God Of football

Chapter 948: 3rd Day Of Matchday 1.

The opening weekend of the English Premier League got people excited for what was to come, and they weren’t disappointed, aside from a few fans whose teams had seemingly forgotten how to play football altogether.

Sunday morning’s broadcast opened with the hum of studio lights and the soft shuffle of papers, the host already smiling at the camera before it even faded fully in.

”If you’ve been living under a rock,” he began, leaning slightly toward the desk, ”the Premier League is back, and we’re heading into the third day of matchday one. Plenty has already happened, and there’s plenty more coming today.”

He turned to his left. ”I’ve got Darren Cole with me this morning.”

Darren gave a small nod. ”Morning.”

”And on my right, the always lively Mark Trelaw.”

Mark grinned.

”Happy to be here. Happy the league is back. Happy I don’t have to pretend I enjoy preseason fixtures anymore.”

That pulled a light laugh from the host.

”Well, it has been an eventful opening weekend already. Friday night set the tone. Liverpool beat Bournemouth four-two. Good game to start with.”

Darren leaned forward.

”Bournemouth actually played some good stuff in spells, but Liverpool eventually got the job done. The pressing was there, the tempo was there, but in my opinion, they were lucky at the last, and I hope they do not keep that up. For the title, they’ll be dangerous again as they were last season. ”

Mark nodded.

”You could see they’re trying to move on cleanly after the changes they made over the summer. New addition, Hugo Ekitike, made his mark, and as always, four goals on the first night is always a statement.”

The host moved on. ”Now, yesterday... a lot happened.”

He read down his card only long enough to keep the order straight.

”Brighton one, Fulham one. Sunderland three, West Ham nil. Tottenham three, Burnley nil. And Manchester City four, Wolves nil.”

Mark let out a soft whistle.

”City didn’t even look like they broke a sweat.”

”Last season was a tough year for Pep and his men as they almost missed out on Champions League football,” Darren replied, not joking.

”Once they get rolling, though, you’re just hoping to survive the first twenty minutes. Wolves never settled.”

The host nodded and tapped his pen.

”I agree with you, Mark, but the big talking point from yesterday, funnily enough, isn’t City but rather, Sunderland.”

Mark chuckled.

”Yeah, Jamie, that’s the one that woke everyone up.”

Darren joined him.

”I’ll be honest, I expected them to take a few weeks to find their footing. First season back in the league after so long, big jump in pace and physicality. But they walked straight into it and ran over West Ham, and it was fully deserved as well.”

Mark lifted a hand.

”And the thing is, they didn’t even look like they fluked it. They were brave. Took the ball, kept it, created chances. That’s what impressed me.”

The host shifted comfortably in his seat, enjoying the energy between them.

”It was one of those results that reminds you why this league is what it is. Anything can happen. And speaking of what’s to come...”

He placed the card aside.

”We’ve got three matches lined up for today.”

”Chelsea against Crystal Palace,” Darren said, already scanning in his head how that might play out.

”Forest against Brentford,” Mark added. ”Which could be more open than some people think.”

”And the one most people have circled,” the host finished, looking directly at the camera as the graphics began to slide onto the screen behind them.

”Arsenal travel to Old Trafford to take on Manchester United.”

A quiet moment of anticipation settled between the three men as Darren smiled and eased back in his chair, looked toward the camera, then back at the host.

”What can I say,” he began, exhaling as if settling into a familiar story.

”It’s always exciting when two sides with this much history meet. You’ve got the current Premier League champions on one side, the team that went the entire season without losing a match in the league, and on the other, you’ve got the club with the most league titles in the country, still trying to climb out from under the weight of their past success. Every time they face each other, something happens. It never feels like just another game.”

Behind them, the studio screens shifted to fresh clips from Arsenal’s recent training session, where the camera panned across Izan drifting past defenders, Eze gliding through small-sided drills, and the tight passing sequences that always seemed to run clean in Arsenal’s sessions.

The host followed the images for a second before leaning in.

”You mentioned that feeling of something always happening. When you look at this fixture, this season in particular, what do you think shapes it?”

Darren folded his arms.

”Momentum. Arsenal have it. They carried it through preseason, they carried it all last year, and you can tell they’re hungry to prove it wasn’t a one-off. United, on the other hand, need to show they’re not taking another step back. When that’s the dynamic, matches tend to be decided by who handles the pressure better.”

Mark jumped in.

”And Arsenal have players who’ve been living in that pressure for months now. They’re used to being the team everyone wants to beat. United still feel like they’re trying to figure out who they are. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be dangerous. At Old Trafford, they’re always capable of making a game messy or forcing a moment that swings momentum their way.”

The host nodded.

”You’re both hinting at the same thing. It’s a meeting of two different energies, but both with something to prove.”

”That’s exactly the point,” he said, while pointing at the screen behind where Izan had carried the ball across the field.

”Arsenal have a player like him. Someone who can take a match that’s heading nowhere and flip it with one touch. United need someone to match that. Right now, you don’t know who that is for them. Bruno, maybe, but it’s just not the same.”

The host shifted the conversation.

”So let me ask the obvious question. How do you expect the game to play out? What are you looking for?”

Darren took a moment before letting his thought be known.

”Arsenal will try to control it early. If they settle, United will find it hard to break their shape. But if United score first, the match becomes completely unpredictable.”

Mark nodded slowly.

”And I think the first twenty minutes decides everything. If Arsenal survive the early atmosphere without giving up anything cheap, they grow into it, and I think they will. But if United catch them cold, then we’ve got ourselves a proper fight.”

The host placed both hands on the table.

”Then I suppose we should get to predictions. The part people yell at their televisions over.”

Darren gave a small smile.

”I’ll go Arsenal. Four-one. It’s cagey, but I am betting on Izan doing some of his heroics if he starts, which I think he will.”

Mark raised an eyebrow.

”I’ll also go for Arsenal, but just because, it feels like a mismatch if we take into account how battered they were by Arsenal and since things don’t seem to have changed much aside from the new signings they have got on the squad.”

The host looked between them, amused by the contrast, before turning towards the cameras.

”There you have it. Two different reads, one heavy matchup, and ninety minutes ahead that will definitely give us something to talk about next week.”

And just like that, the day stretched on quietly.

By early afternoon, the streets around Old Trafford began to thicken.

Small groups of fans stepped out of trams and buses, while others walked in from nearby pubs with scarves already around their necks.

The air felt different, expectant, like the fans were hoping for something to hold onto, to believe in for the start of the season.

By the time the clock moved past two, the area outside the stadium had filled properly.

Kids on their parents’ shoulders pointed at the banners hanging along the walls.

Vendors shouted out offers for matchday scarves, and it didn’t take long before the police escorts appeared first, engines low and steady, and then the Manchester United team bus rounded the corner.

A wave of noise surged up from the crowd as fans pressed closer to the barriers, waving scarves, phones raised high.

A few players gave small nods or lifted a hand in acknowledgement when the tinted windows allowed it.

The bus slipped past and disappeared into the stadium tunnel, but the noise lingered, rolling across the forecourt even after it was gone.

The crowd settled again, though the energy stayed sharp.

Just as the excitement began to steady, phones lifted again.

Someone pointed toward the road leading in from the south side.

”There. That has to be them.”

The heads turned, and the first glimpse of Arsenal’s bus came into view, edging into the sunlight, the noise rising all over again.