The pre-match press conference was a new kind of battleground for Ethan.

He sat at the table, the flash of virtual cameras reflecting in his eyes, feeling less like a football manager and more like a rock star.

The nine-man miracle against Plymouth had turned Apex United from a curiosity into a sensation.

"Ethan," a journalist from a major virtual sports network began.

"Your team is top of the league, but you're coming off a chaotic performance against Plymouth that saw two red cards. Is there a discipline problem at your club?"

Ethan leaned into the microphone, a calm, practiced smile on his face.

"There's no discipline problem," he said smoothly. "There's a passion problem. My players are so passionate about winning for this club that sometimes, it boils over. I'd rather have to calm a lion than prod a kitten. We've addressed it, and we're ready for Burton."

"Burton Albion's manager has called your team a 'flash in the pan' and 'tactically naive'. Your response?" another journalist asked.

"He's a very experienced manager, and he's entitled to his opinion," Ethan said, the picture of professional respect. "We're a young team. We are naive in some ways. But we're also five wins from six. We'll do our talking on the pitch."

He answered every question with a cool, confident charisma that was a world away from the nervous kid who had first logged into the game. He was growing into the role, and he was loving every second of it.

The home dressing room at The Apex was a hive of focused energy.

David Kerrigan, the agent of chaos, was the center of attention.

"Right, gaffer," he said, walking up to Ethan with the swagger of a player who knew he was the main event.

"What's the plan for my new friend, their right-back? Should I just run at him, or do you want me to do the thing where I pretend to tie my shoelace and then nutmeg him?"

"Just be a menace, Davey," Ethan said with a grin.

"Your only job is to live in his head, rent-free, for the first twenty minutes. The rest will follow."

"You got it, boss," Kerrigan said, cracking his knuckles. "Operation: Break His Brain is a go."

The team walked out into the roar of their adoring home crowd.

"A huge welcome back to The Apex, where the league leaders, the entertainers, the absolute madmen of League One, Apex United, are looking to continue their sensational start to the season!" the commentator's voice boomed. "They face a solid Burton Albion side today, but after last week's nine-man miracle, this Apex team looks like they believe they can do absolutely anything!"

The match began.

And from the first second, David Kerrigan began his one-man psychological warfare campaign.

He got the ball, ran directly at the star right-back, did three ridiculous, unnecessary step-overs, and then passed the ball backwards.

The defender just looked at him, bewildered.

A few minutes later, Kerrigan got the ball again.

He stopped it dead. He put his foot on top of it, leaned on his knee, and pretended to catch his breath.

The right-back, a picture of professional fury, took a step towards him. Kerrigan then zipped the ball through his legs and sprinted away, laughing.

"Hahaha! I don't believe it!" the commentator chuckled. "David Kerrigan is treating a professional league match like a testimonial! The Burton right-back looks like he's about to have an aneurysm!"

The Burton manager was a volcano on the sideline.

"GET TIGHT TO HIM!" he screamed, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple.

"STOP LETTING HIM DANCE!"

The chaos plan was working perfectly.

The entire Burton defense was being dragged out of shape, their focus entirely on the giggling, showboating winger on the right.

But in the 21st minute, the joke was on Apex.

While all eyes were on Kerrigan's antics, Burton won the ball back and launched a swift, simple counter-attack down the other flank.

Their winger, completely ignored, had acres of space.

He whipped in a perfect cross, and their big striker powered a header into the net.

1-0 to Burton.

The goal came from absolutely nowhere. The home crowd was stunned into silence.

Kerrigan's showboating had come at a cost.

"And a classic sucker punch!" the commentator announced. "While Apex United were playing for the cameras, Burton Albion were playing for the goal! A brilliant cross and a clinical header, and the visitors have the lead! A harsh lesson for the young gaffer, Ethan Couch!"

The Apex players looked at each other, the confident smiles gone, replaced by a dawning horror. They had been arrogant. Again.

But then, a strange thing happened.

From the edge of the box, Viktor Kristensen, the 16-year-old striker, started to laugh.

A genuine, hearty laugh.

"What's so funny?" Grant Hanley grumbled, jogging back to the center circle.

"That was us last week!" Viktor said, a wide grin on his face.

"We did that to Accrington! We fell for our own trick!"

The sheer, ridiculous irony of it was not lost on the other players.

A few of them started to chuckle.

The panic was replaced by a strange, collective sense of "well, we deserved that."

Ethan watched from the sideline, a slow smile spreading across his face.

His team wasn't panicking. They were learning.

The game restarted, and the arrogance was gone. The showboating was replaced by a sharp, focused intensity.

In the 28th minute, Apex won a free-kick thirty-five yards from goal.

Emre Demir stood over it. The whole stadium expected one of his signature, curling efforts.

Instead, he did something no one could have predicted.

He took a short, quick run-up and, with an almost disdainful-looking flick of his ankle, he just chipped the ball.

It wasn't a shot. It was a soft, gentle, looping pass into the penalty area.

The Burton wall, expecting a thunderbolt, just stood and watched.

The defenders were flat-footed. The ball floated, as if in slow motion, over their heads.

And running onto it, having made a completely untracked run from his defensive midfield position, was Jacob Sørensen.

He met the ball on the volley, a perfect, cushioned strike that he guided into the bottom corner.

1-1.

It was a goal of such sublime, unexpected, and intelligent beauty that the stadium was momentarily silent before erupting into a roar of pure admiration.

"OH, THAT IS GENIUS! PURE, UNADULTERATED FOOTBALLING GENIUS!" the commentator screamed, his voice filled with awe. "No one in the stadium saw that coming! A free-kick of audacious, brilliant simplicity from Emre Demir, a perfectly timed run from the defensive midfielder Sørensen, and we are all square! What a response from the league leaders! This game is an absolute delight!"

Ethan just shook his head, laughing. His team was a box of chocolates.

You never knew what you were going to get. And it was the most fun he had ever had.

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