For once, the Manchester sky wasn't weeping. A pale sun hung cautiously above Carrington, casting long shadows across the training ground. But despite the weather's cooperation, the atmosphere was tense.
Something was off.
Training had started like normal—rondos, sprints, short passing drills—but Jayden McCabe, United's flashy winger and social media darling, was barely participating. Again.
He jogged through warmups like he was walking through a shopping mall. His touches in possession drills were lazy, his pressing was non-existent, and his attitude? Somewhere between bored teenager and hungover bachelor party guest.
Ethan Cross stood at the edge of the pitch, arms folded, eyes locked on the scene unfolding before him. Next to him stood Dave Granger, the interim coach standing in while Ten Hag worked behind the scenes on tactical restructuring.
"Is he walking?" Ethan asked, incredulous.
Dave sighed. "Says he's feeling some tightness."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Tightness or laziness?"
Dave gave a noncommittal shrug. He wasn't the type to stir things up—but Ethan wasn't bound by that constraint.
Not anymore.
10:22 AM – Rondo Circle
The usual suspects were sharp. Bruno Fernandes barked instructions in three languages. Marcus Rashford drilled passes across the circle with precision. Alejandro Garnacho danced through cones like his boots were on fire.
Jayden?
Jayden drifted in late, spinning a football on his finger like he was hosting a youth clinic.
Rashford gave him a look. "You get tired walking from the car too, or just on the pitch?"
Bruno didn't look up. "Let him save his energy. He's gotta dance in his next TikTok."
Garnacho snorted. Dalot, tying his laces, whispered to a coach, "Jayden's warm-up has fewer steps than my skincare routine."
Laughter rippled. Jayden didn't seem to care.
But Ethan did.
11:00 AM – Ethan's Office
Jayden arrived ten minutes late, hoodie up, sunglasses indoors, and gum snapping obnoxiously. He flopped into a chair without waiting for an invitation.
"Yo, boss man," he grinned. "We doing a vibes check or what?"
Ethan didn't respond. He finished highlighting a paragraph in the match report on his desk before speaking.
"You skipped recovery yesterday."
Jayden shrugged. "Recovery's optional, innit?"
"No. It's mandatory."
Jayden leaned back, unconcerned. "Come on, man. I'm a flair player. I don't need ice baths and yoga."
Ethan stared at him. "You've played three full matches this season. And one of them was a League Cup tie against League Two opposition."
Jayden raised an eyebrow. "So?"
"You're not Ronaldo," Ethan said flatly. "You don't get special treatment because you went viral on TikTok doing a behind-the-scenes tunnel walk."
Jayden laughed. "Relax, man. The fans love me. My brand's on point. I'm just building my platform."
Ethan stood slowly. Walked around the desk.
"Jayden, this isn't a branding agency. It's Manchester United. That badge means something. And right now? You're treating it like a free ride."
Jayden's grin wavered slightly.
"You think this club gives out chances like sweets? Ask the last guy who thought effort was optional—he's in Turkey now. Playing in front of 800 people and a goat."
Jayden straightened a little in his chair.
"I brought you in because I thought you could give us something different. But if you're more interested in filters than football, I'll have Ellie loan you out so fast your Wi-Fi won't have time to connect in Belgium."
He let the silence settle.
"Gaffer didn't come here to babysit egos. And neither did I."
1:30 PM – Afternoon Session
The change was instant.
Jayden returned to training early. No gum. No sunglasses. Boots laced. Head down.
He ran drills at full speed. Tracked back. Fought for loose balls like they owed him money. Even stayed after to work on shooting.
The squad noticed.
So did Bruno, who nodded silently after a clean finish into the top corner.
Garnacho, watching closely, stepped up his own intensity. Dalot muttered something in Portuguese and high-fived him.
From the touchline, Ethan watched with quiet satisfaction. He didn't say anything. But he didn't need to.
Standards had been restored.
5:30 PM – Gym Area
Rashford walked past Ethan near the weights room.
"Whatever you said to him," Marcus said, "worked."
Ethan smirked. "Sometimes, you just gotta remind them where they are."
Marcus nodded. "That's why the kids are watching you, you know."
Ethan blinked. "Me?"
"Yeah. You act like a fan, but you don't let the badge get disrespected. That's new. That's good."
It meant more than Ethan expected.
6:47 PM – Group Chat Buzzes
Ibrahim dropped a text in their shared WhatsApp group.
"You've officially entered your Ferguson arc. One slack, one smack."
Ethan: "He flinched harder at 'Ellie' than 'loan.' That's power."
Then he dropped a Gordon Ramsay meme.
"IT'S RAW!"
Ethan laughed out loud in his car. For all the pressure, the politics, and the insanity of running one of the biggest clubs in the world—moments like these made it worth it.
Because leadership wasn't about being the loudest voice in the room.
It was about knowing when to speak—and when to make someone remember who they're playing for.