Chapter 4 - Among Devils
24th November 2012
Old Trafford, Manchester, England
Aitor sat down on to the comfortable away bench of the Manchester United stadium. He glanced up at the fans. They were passionate, intimidating, as usual- but something was wrong. It seemed those who attended the games for the glory were gone, and now, the die-hard supporters remained. This was because Manchester United had fallen to the middle of the table.
Aitor walked over to David Moyes and put out a hand. "Good luck,"
"Likewise," the Scotsman nodded casually and shook his hand. Aitor could tell, however, that Moyes was tense. His job was on the line, only a couple of months after he'd been appointed. If Moyes was to be sacked, his time as Manchester manager would be dramatically different to Sir Alex's.
The whistle blew and the game kicked off. For the first couple of minutes, the ball was played in to Villa's half by the Manchester attackers and they brewed a very promising attack, but, when the ball was intercepted by claret & blue defenders, Aitor's plan set in to motion.
The ball was chipped to Gabby Agbonlahor's feet. This was an intentional move. The first thing Aitor noticed about Gabby was his pace, and because of it, he'd made him the linkup man. Agbonlahor knocked the ball past Carrick and began to sprint up through the middle of the pitch with the ball comfortably under control.
"To Bent..." Aitor whispered, spotting the seasoned striker running in to a very good position. "To Bent!" Aitor repeated, louder this time.
Agbonlahor knocked the side of his foot against the ball so that it slid right in to Bent's control, who turned past the defender and rifled his boot in to the apex of the ball, sending it shooting in to the bottom right corner of the net and leaving De Gea fumbling on the ground.
Aitor merely nodded. He knew this would not last if they did not continue playing. It was too early to celebrate against a side like Manchester United, who had a history of turning results like this on their head and embarrassing their foes.
Bent steamed down the pitch, grinning and raising his arms to the away fans. "Four minute goal," the speaker in the stadium announced. "Darren Bent." The Aston Villa fans chanted and sung. "Manchester United 0, Aston Villa 1." Aitor guiltily glanced at Moyes, who held his face in his hands.
The rest of the half past by very quickly. Not many chances graced either net, and for most of the time it was just nerves from both side. One team was at risk of relegation, the other one was much further down the table then they had earlier expected.
When the half time whistle blew, the squad walked in to the changing room proudly. "Very well done so far," Aitor nodded simply. "Buy we aren't out of the woods." The Villa squad peered at him, attention set on the Spaniard.
"We all know how Man United play their game. When they come-back it's late, and fast. So we have to expect that. Not only will we expect it, but we will prevent it." Aitor paced the floor. "If they do score, we will retaliate. Do
not let them take advantage and score again. I will not be disappointing if we come out with one point, but, you are all capable of obtaining all three. Now are you all ready?"
"Yes, coach," most of the players replied.
When the game kickstarted it seemed Manchester had a new mentality. Everything they did made the Villa defense looks like fools. It would only be a matter of time before they equalized.
"Look for Nani, Look for Nani," Moyes called out. Aitor glanced at the Portuguese midfielder, who had the ball passed to him. Nani chipped the ball past Clark and then hit it home, sending the home fans in to raptures.
"Sort yourselves out!" Aitor yelled, disgruntled. "We can't let them score again! Westwood, play deeper!"
The game drudged on and on. Every now and then each team would have a good chance- at one point the Man United fans began to cheer, as they did not realize that Giggs had actually missed the goal completely and hit an old man in the face with his shot- on another occasion, Benteke got his head on a ball which slipped through De Gea's fingers but was cleared by a careful Rafael.
The timer ticked on by until the final whistle blew. Moyes' face was as cold as stone. He was clearly not happy with the loss. Aitor, on the other hand, was delighted he'd won a point at the infamous Old Trafford.
He walked in to the changing room with a spring in his step, and suddenly, his ambitions at Villa did not seem as unrealistic as first presumed.