Football Dynasty-Chapter 21: The Season is Over

Maine Road, 29 April 1986

Manchester City: Steve Crompton, Steve Mills, Andy Hinchcliffe, Ian Brightwell, Steve Redmond (capt), Andy Thackeray, David White, Paul Moulden, Paul Lake, Ian Scott, David Boyd.

Manager: Tony Book

Manchester United: Gary Walsh, Tony Gill, Lee Martin, Ian Scott, Steve Gardner (capt), Paul Harvey, Aidan Murphy, Mark Todd, Dennis Cronin, Jon Bottomley, Karl Goddard.

Manager Eric Harrison.

Referee: Vic Callow

Attendance: 18,158

The response to this occasion was staggering—18,158 people attended, which meant the total gate receipts would exceed £25,000. While the match never reached the classic standard of the first leg, it still offered plenty of "woaahs" and "aaaahs" for the enthusiastic audience.

Moreover, based on this alone, you could see how desperate the City fans were. With the first-team squad relegated, all their hopes now rested on the shoulders of the young lads—a beacon of optimism, a chance for redemption, and perhaps a glimpse of a brighter future for the club.

"Nobody's going to do it for you. You have to find your own solace, your own drive, your own ambition, your own inner strength, because the moment's arriving for the greatest game of your f*ckin lives." Tony Book finally showed his menace.

He didn't care anymore.

Maine Road. This is his victory!

Glyn Pardoe and John Collins stood behind him, and further back were Richard Maddox, Jimmy Rouse—the dressing room caretaker—even Ken Barnes and Ted Davies, the scouts, were present. Almost everyone here on the team was a result of their talent-hunting efforts.

"You think they're better than you? You think they deserve it more than you?" he barked, pointing toward the door, as if their rivals stood just beyond it. "No! Not today. This is your house. This is your moment."

The players sat motionless, eyes locked on him, their breathing heavy. The tension in the room crackled like electricity. They could see their manager's fierce eyes, veins bulging on his neck as adrenaline coursed through him.

"Nobody handed you anything. You earned this." *BANG!* Book slammed the locker. "Out there," he growled, "are 18,000 fans waiting to see who wants it more. They don't care about mistakes, or what's happened before. All they care about is this match. Your friends, your family, your fans... they're all watching."

He paused, letting his words sink in as he scanned the room.

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"Tell them—that you will not be forgotten. That no matter what happens, this is only the beginning. This trophy? It's the first. But will it end here? NO! There are still more trophies waiting for you. Send them a message through this match!"

His voice dropped, low and dangerous.

"That they just faced the most dangerous f***** team they've ever seen. Now go. Write your story."

A heavy silence hung in the air—then one clap. Then another. Suddenly, the entire room erupted, fists pounding lockers, voices shouting, the noise deafening.

"LET'S GO!"

"LET'S F*CKIN DESTROY THEM!*"

"COME ON, BOYS! THIS IS OURS!"

They charged out of the dressing room, fired up, ready to make history.

Before the whistle blew, both teams were already lined up in their positions. Andy Thackeray and Aidan Murphy locked eyes across the pitch, exchanging a knowing look before both snorted. Despite their heated clash in the first leg, here they were again—both having managed to play in the second leg after successful appeals from their respective clubs.

The officials and clubs understood the bigger picture. Youth competitions weren't just about winning trophies; they were about development, growth, and second chances. The red cards from the first leg had been a blemish, but everyone involved knew that punishing young players too harshly could hinder their progress.

PHWEEEEE!

The sharp blast of the referee's whistle cut through the roar of the crowd, signaling the start of the match. In an instant, the stadium erupted with cheers, drums, and chants, the tension melting into pure adrenaline on the pitch.

As early as the 2nd minute, the Bonny Blues staked their claim to win the competition for the very first time in history. Paul Moulden, with his devastating routine of twists and turns, corkscrewed through United's defense deep inside the penalty area on the right flank.

His hither-and-thither jink opened up space, and his cross looped over the goalmouth, where David Boyd rose to meet it with a firm header. This time, there was no stopping it—the ball threatened Gary Walsh, who stretched to his limit, fingertips grazing the air, but it wasn't enough.

"GOAAALLL!!! A perfect setup from City—Moulden with some dazzling footwork down the right, floating it right into the danger zone, and David Boyd rose like a rocket! A bullet header past Gary Walsh—no chance for the keeper!"

It was a thrilling send-off for City as the team officials roared and cheered, already celebrating as if they had secured the trophy. Only Richard remained calm. It was just the 2nd minute—they still had to survive another 88.

Sure enough, as the whistle blew and the game resumed, the City officials shifted from elation to anxiety. It felt like sitting on pins and needles. Some perched at the very edge of their seats, while others couldn't sit still, pacing back and forth, nerves fraying with every passing second.

Paul Moulden continued to lead by example, just as he had throughout the competition. Operating from wide positions, he was the spark in City's attack. Andy Thackeray, sent off in the first leg, was now seeking redemption.

He provided a solid presence in midfield, showing composure and determination. But the real standout was the unexpected hero at the back—Ian Brightwell. The heart of City's defense played with a fearless, cavalier spirit, commanding the backline and snuffing out United's advances.

The match became a relentless back-and-forth, with both United and City trading attacks, neither side willing to back down. The tension was palpable—every pass, every tackle, every shot carried the weight of the final.

In the 6th minute, United launched an attack, but fortunately for City, Brightwell managed to clear a menacing cross from Goddard.

By the 13th minute, United's Ian Scott blocked a long-range shot from Moulden. The ball deflected and landed at Aidan Murphy's feet, who then made a blistering run down the flank before sending a beautiful cross into the center. Unfortunately, Goddard just missed connecting with an outstretched leg, and City's goalkeeper Crompton managed to get his arm on the ball before launching a long punt upfield.

There were four serious moments when City nearly lost their lead:

18th minute: A poor goal kick from Crompton put City in trouble, forcing Hinchcliffe to grapple desperately to stop Wilson from breaking through. City's full-back was booked for spinning his opponent around.

30th minute: United Dennis Cronin squandered a golden opportunity inside the penalty area after a clever chip from Goddard, slicing his shot wide of the post.

37th minute: Steve Mills, City's full-back, cleared the ball off the line after a deadly shot from Wilson following a Cronin corner.

38th minute: Just a minute later, Mills once again performed heroics, heading the ball off the line to deny Wilson after a dangerous pass from Murphy.

City eventually hit back in the 40th minute after enduring United's constant pressure. It was summed up by a remarkable moment from City's center-back Ian Brightwell, who made a rampaging 40-yard run that tore United's defense apart. Brightwell capped it off with a blistering 25-yard strike, but the outstanding United goalkeeper, Gary Walsh, managed to tip it over the bar.

"HOLY!" Richard muttered, eyes wide as he watched Walsh leap into action, tipping Brightwell's blistering shot over the bar. It was a stunning save—one that still kept United in the game.

Eric Harrison, United's youth manager, who had already risen from his seat, clenched his fists, a mix of relief and awe washing over him. "That was close... way too close," he muttered, glancing at the City staff, whose faces reflected pure disappointment.

PHWEEET!

The referee's whistle echoed around the stadium, signaling the end of the first half. Players from both sides exhaled deeply, some bending over with hands on their knees, catching their breath before heading back to the dressing rooms. The crowd buzzed with anticipation—there was still another half to play, and everything was still up for grabs.

In the second half, the first ten minutes saw United and City return to their initial cautious approach, both teams feeling each other out before United began to settle and grow more aggressive.

City found their left winger, Goddard, a perplexing customer as he shrugged off United's Lee Martin to control Moulden's pass and fired a shot that slammed into the side netting. Moments later, Goddard's powerful drive was stopped at the foot of the near post by Walsh.

After the scare, City captain Redmond rallied his team, leading them into a period of dominance as the remaining minutes ticked away. Yet, United still managed a few threatening shots that forced Crompton onto his heels, though he remained solid—proven by his record of conceding only six goals in nine ties.

Fittingly, the match saw a classic finish in the 86th minute.

Moulden, City's ever-dangerous attacker, played a deadly ball through to White bursting through the middle. Moulden struck fiercely, but Gary Walsh defiant made another brilliant save. Yet, Moulden's sharp instincts had him charging onto the loose ball, calmly steering it low into the net from six yards out.

"GOOAAAALLL, PAUL MOULDEN!! Instincts sharper than ever! He followed up the rebound like a true predator, pouncing on the loose ball, leaving Gary Walsh with no chance this time!"

The crowd erupted, the stadium a sea of blue and white flags waving wildly.

For the first time, there was no way back for United, and everyone on the pitch knew it.

In a nutshell, the probability had almost shown from the very beginning that City would likely win the match—they had the strength to complement their style. It wasn't the vintage Young Blues of the 1950s, but it was good enough. It was worthy enough to win the trophy, especially after the dismal performances by City's first team.

In the director's box, smiles were spreading wide across the faces of the City directors and board members. For once, after a season of struggles for the first team, there was a glimmer of hope—a reason to believe in the club's future.

For the next few minutes, down on the touchline, Book, Pardoe, and Collins stood at the edge of the technical area, tense but ready. Their eyes were fixed on the referee, waiting for the final signal.

PHWEEEEEET!

For a split second, there was pure silence—a moment of disbelief—before an explosion of noise erupted.

Cheers filled the air as the young City players threw their arms skyward, some collapsing to the ground in joy, while others sprinted wildly across the pitch.

Tony Book, the manager pumped his fist and without hesitation broke into a run, joined by Glyn Pardoe his assistant and John Collins, the coach, all racing toward the celebrating players.

On the sidelines, Richard let out a triumphant yell, throwing his arms around Jimmy Rouse, the dressing room caretaker, who had tears streaming down his face.

Redmond, the captain, led his team to receive the trophy, cheered by City's ecstatic fans. There were scenes to remember. However, amid all the happy, smiling faces, one figure could only watch from afar.

Andy Thackeray.

He had refused the honor of collecting a medal—a punishment he imposed on himself after his dismissal in the first leg. Despite the FA allowing him to play in the second leg, the disciplinary rules still applied.

It was a painful and sad sight. City staff consoled the young Thackeray, especially Richard.

The punishment felt too severe to be imposed on any player who had battled his heart out for the cause. This scar would probably never leave the young Thackeray.

Thankfully, the sad sight didn't last long. Redmond soon pulled Thackeray forward and handed him the trophy. Thackeray looked at Redmond, who nodded in encouragement.

As the players assembled for their lap of honor, Thackeray raised the trophy high in his hands, and the other players jumped and roared in excitement. Richard sighed in relief, though a hint of regret remained on his face.

'I could have lifted the trophy too,' the thought flickered in his mind for a moment before he shook his head to dismiss it quickly.