The 2006-2007 season saw Arsenal bid farewell to their historic Highbury home and move into the state-of-the-art Emirates Stadium. But this grand transition came at a cost—mounting debt.
Yet, at the start of the season, Arsenal proved they could still go toe-to-toe with the Premier League giants. They even briefly overtook Chelsea in the standings, sitting just two points ahead. This year, expectations for the Gunners were sky-high.
Though the departure of legends like Dennis Bergkamp and Thierry Henry had weakened their attack, Robin van Persie—who joined in 2004—had stepped up to lead the frontline.
Now, sitting at the back of the team bus, Van Persie rested his chin on his hand, lazily watching the bustling streets of Manchester pass by. As the bus neared Old Trafford, the crowds grew thicker.
"Tch. I heard United's got some big news for this match," Van Persie mused.
Beside him, Cesc Fàbregas—the core of Arsenal's midfield—snorted. "What, the extra 15,000 tickets they sold? Or that singer, Claire?"
Van Persie's eyes lit up. He glanced at their manager, Arsène Wenger, confirming he was asleep, then leaned in. "I heard that kid was signed as a defensive midfielder. And the media's been hyping up some rivalry between you two!"
Fàbregas scowled, shoving Van Persie's phone away. "You believe that nonsense? It's all for clicks. Who's better—some reserve player from the lower leagues, or me?"
He turned away. "Worry about marking Rooney and Ronaldo instead."
But Jens Lehmann, the veteran goalkeeper sitting in front of them, twisted around with a grin. "That Claire kid's got quite the buzz, huh?"
Van Persie nodded. "Even Ronaldo's apology got overshadowed."
"Smart move by Ronaldo's PR team," Lehmann said, then smirked. "But if I accidentally rough him up a bit, maybe I'll steal the spotlight."
Van Persie shot a nervous glance at Wenger. "If you don't want the gaffer screaming at you, I'd drop that idea. This match matters."
Lehmann, a World Cup veteran, just shrugged. "I'm the keeper. If I happen to misplace a pass, well… mistakes happen."
Before Van Persie could argue, Fàbregas tugged his sleeve, signaling him to drop it. With a sigh, Van Persie leaned back and closed his eyes.
---
As kickoff approached, the crowds outside Old Trafford swelled. Fans buzzed with excitement, some even waving signs that read "Ronaldo, Apologize!"
But one group stood out—a stunning girl in a skimpy football kit, leading a chant with a handmade "Claire, I Love You" sign.
"Our darkness must be broken by song!" she shouted. "Claire's debut needs our support!"
With every cry, her following grew. Soon, nearly a thousand voices were singing The Nights—Claire's anthem.
The noise woke Van Persie, who blinked as his teammates stared out the bus windows.
"Tch. Fan clubs won't save him," Van Persie muttered loudly. "We'll teach him how real football's played."
His words sparked a chorus of agreement.
"Right! That pretty boy won't get past midfield!"
"Even if we don't win, we'll shut him up!"
---
Meanwhile, on the United bench, Claire had no idea Arsenal's entire squad now resented him—thanks to Danielle Sharp's fan club.
Not that it mattered. He wasn't even on the team sheet.
As fans flooded the stands, Claire whistled. "Damn. Big stadiums really hit different. The lower leagues could never."
Anderson, who'd joined United just three months ago, plopped down beside him with a grin. "Don't worry, mate. This'll all be yours soon."
Claire smiled. The Brazilian was one of the few who'd welcomed him—a natural charmer who got along with everyone.
"Thanks, man."
"Hey, don't take Rooney's yelling personally. He's just stressed. This match is huge because of… well, you and Ronaldo."
Claire winced. That morning, during training, his poor stamina had cost the reserves possession repeatedly—earning him a public scolding from Rooney.
"Ha, no hard feelings. He's my idol."
Anderson nodded. "Good attitude. And hey—you sold 15,000 extra tickets. Your contract's safe. Boss is just protecting you. Your stamina's… uh… not great."
Before Claire could retort, Ronaldo arrived with two staff members.
"You ready?" Ronaldo asked, clapping Anderson's back. "We're counting on you today."
Anderson laughed, playing to the nearby cameras. "Just following the gaffer's tactics!"
Once he left, Ronaldo muttered, "What a kiss-ass."
Then, turning to Claire: "You good?"
"Never better. Just sit back and watch us win."
Ronaldo grinned and jogged off to join the huddle with Rooney, Nani, and the other starters.
Claire sighed. When do I get my shot? I'm at least better than Park Ji-sung…
---
As Arsenal's players took the field, Ferguson gathered his squad for one last talk.
"Fifth match of the season. I don't accept losing. And I won't let outside noise ruin our title chase." His glare lingered on Ronaldo and Rooney.
But this time, Ronaldo didn't shrink. Instead, he extended a hand to Rooney.
Rooney eyed the cameras, then shook it. "Play like crap, and I'm not accepting your apology."
Ferguson exhaled in relief. But the pressure was still crushing.
Claire's drunken antics had set the stage—if United lost today, Ronaldo's reputation in England would be shredded.
Arrogant. Overconfident. All talk.
Right now, "viral sensation" Claire was taking some heat off. But Ferguson knew the truth:
In football, only results mattered.
"Go out there," he said, "and prove why we're Manchester United."
A unified roar answered him.
For now, that was enough.
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