The Return of the Prodigal Son

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Return of the Prodigal Son
Prologue, February 2012 - May 2012


14th​ February 2012:
Newton takes time out – cites ‘Personal Issues’, Thompson takes Manchester United reins.

29th​ April 2012:
United reach Champions League Final, to play Real Madrid.

7th​ May 2012:
United claim 20th Premier League title, still no sign of Newton.

20th​ May 2012:
United heartbreak as Ronaldo steals the show in 5-4 Madrid victory...



20th​ May 2012, Costa Del Sol, Spain.

Here I was. Sat in a Spanish bar, listening to the Madrid fans going wild at their victory. We’d come so close, I mused as I nursed the whiskey in front of me. Three months had passed since Alice had passed away, overdosed on my own medication, and the pain still hurt – even with a bottle of booze inside me.

I’d watched as Thommo steered my squad to the title, knowing that I should’ve been there. Should’ve been celebrating with the team. With Alice at my side... No. I told myself. You can’t just keep drinking yourself to oblivion. I was pulled from my thoughts as a Madrid fan recognised me, probably from my Sevilla days. The mocking got worse, now aimed at me as one of them put his face close to mine, shouting mostly intelligibly in broken English, but I picked some up. “You fail! Manchester lose!” He wheeled away, grinning before I brought the bottle down on his head, dropping him like a stone. I was already on my way out.

There was no doubt about it as I walked the streets back towards the hotel. I was going to clean myself up.

And then, I was coming home.
 
Last edited:
glad to see you back :)

very Max Payne 3 esque :P

one thing, change the font? I see it everyday, its a bit boring :) lol

not sure even where this is going, but its bookmarked!
 
2nd​ July, 2012. Carrington, Salford, Manchester.

“You're not nineteen forever, pull yourselves together
I know it seems strange but things they change”

Passing through the gates of Carrington for the first time in almost half a year, I gave a nod to the security on the entrance with a forced smile. I wondered exactly how the players would respond to my return; although I had faith that Thommo had kept the backbone of the squad together. As the players began to arrive, I noticed a few new faces within the familiar ones of Kroos, Torres and Navas, the latter coming over and shaking my hand warmly.

“Good to have you back, boss...” He said, the young Torres at his shoulder nodding in agreement.

“Thanks Jesus.” I responded, feeling a little more at home as the rest of the players filtered onto the training fields. I headed over to Alan, looking over the squad. He pointed out a young, blonde-haired defender.

“Alex Buttner. From what I heard from Friio, he’s one for the future.” He turned a little, looking at me. “What happened, Laddie?” He asked, but I waved him away.

“Not here. I’ll tell you sometime.” I replied, looking out over the fields as I spotted another returning man. One that, last season, had some contract issues with a nearby club. Former Manchester City captain, Carlos Tevez. He’d agreed a contract deal back in January, and he’d finally joined up with the squad. Replacing the outgoing Dimitar Berbatov, I felt he was a **** good deal, since he didn’t cost the club anything more than wages.

I gave Thommo another nudge. “Well done with last year, Alan.” I simply said.

“All in a day’s work.” He responded with a chuckle. “That’s what I’m here for.”
 
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