The Football Legends System

Chapter 41 – Still Standing

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AFTER ONE WEEK

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Matchday 2: Crystal Palace vs Manchester United

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The moment Nathan stepped out of the team bus, he felt it.

Selhurst Park was tight. Old-school. No towering megastructure. No polished, glass-clad arena hum. Just a compact, snarling stadium with fans almost leaning over the pitch. The air reeked of fried onions, sweat, and hostility.

And it was loud already.

"Oi, Perry!""Back to the academy, mate!""Should’ve stayed in your dad’s shadow!"

Nathan didn’t flinch.

He just adjusted his jacket, gave a quick nod to a steward, and headed into the tunnel.

—

Before the Match

"New stars aren’t welcome here," Valverde murmured, leaning in as they changed into their kits. His Spanish accent curled around the words

Nathan tied his laces tighter, then glanced up with that calm, razor-edge smile.

"They’ll be clapping by the end."

Valverde raised a brow. "Confident."

"Conviction," Nathan corrected, standing. "Let’s make it loud."

—

Matchday 2: Crystal Palace vs Manchester UnitedKickoff — Selhurst Park

-*-

Random Skill: Müller’s Positioning & Creativity in the Box

-*-

The crowd was on top of them from the first whistle.

Booing every touch.

Especially his.

Every time Nathan got near the ball, the jeers grew sharper. It didn’t help that Palace’s midfield bit at his heels like wolves. Doucouré and Eze double-teamed him constantly, and Guehi loomed behind like a wall waiting to collapse on him.

But Nathan welcomed it.

That tight pressure? That hostile energy? It felt like home.

—

7th Minute

Valverde slipped a clever pass between the lines—Nathan pounced.

Dash!

Split between defenders. One perfect touch to kill the ball’s momentum.

The keeper rushed out—Nathan didn’t hesitate.

Snap!

Low shot. Near post.

THUMP!!

Blocked.

The keeper’s legs snapped shut like a bear trap.

Groans from the away end. Cheers from the home.

Nathan spun, frustrated—but not angry. He looked at the keeper, nodded once, then jogged back.

No sulking.

He could feel something ticking in his blood.

The space was there. He just needed the next chance.

—

19th Minute

Nathan shielded the ball near the sideline.

Guehi stormed in.

WHAM!!

Full body. Shoulder to ribs.

Nathan went flying, boots scraping the pitch. He hit the grass with a grunt, rolled once, then popped right back up—dirt streaked across his arm, breath steady.

Guehi smirked.

"Welcome to the Prem."

Nathan shook his head slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"Oh, I’m still standing," he said quietly. "You’ll be the one falling later."

The centre-back snorted. "We’ll see."

—

Second half. Selhurst Park buzzed like a hornet’s nest.

The fans had smelled blood since the restart, and every misplaced United pass only fed the fire.

Nathan stood near the halfway line, hands on his hips, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Sweat glued his shirt to his back, and the roar of the crowd felt like it was pressing on his spine.

But his eyes didn’t waver.

This match still had something left.

—

56th Minute

Bruno spotted him—one quick glance, then a zipped pass across the turf.

Thud!

Nathan’s first touch killed the ball like a trap.

Defender closing in.

Tap! Tap!

Quick feet. A shimmy. He broke left—cut inside. The crowd hissed.

He saw it—half a gap, the keeper off his line.

Crack!!

Left foot, clean and true. The ball arced—spun—smashed the upright!

CLANG!!

Gasps. Groans. Hands flew to heads.

The post rattled as the rebound was cleared.

Nathan stood there for a beat, eyes wide, heart pounding.

So close...

He jogged back slowly, biting the inside of his cheek.

Valverde jogged past and muttered, "Post saved them."

Nathan just nodded.

"Next one goes in."

—

62nd Minute

Palace struck like lightning.

Valverde lost the ball in transition. Just a moment’s lapse.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Three passes and they were off.

Eze to Doucouré.

Wide to Zaha.

The winger had aged, but his pace hadn’t died.

He tore down the flank, ghosted past Dalot with a sharp chop, cut in—

Whip!

Far post finish, low and ruthless.

GOAL — 1:0 PALACE

Selhurst exploded.

Smoke flares. Thunderous chants. Fists in the air.

Zaha cupped his ear toward the away end, grinning like a demon.

Nathan exhaled sharply.

He walked back to the center circle, head held high.

But the crowd wasn’t done.

"Where’s your star now?!"

"Send him to the Championship!"

"Your dad’s watching with his hands over his face!"

He didn’t bite.

He let it roll over him like rain.

Tch... they’re loud now. Let’s see if they stay that way.

—

68th Minute

Amorim gestured from the sideline. Attack.

Zirkzee dropped deeper. Bruno moved wider. Valverde began pushing higher.

And Nathan? He floated.

Raumdeuter mode again. He let instinct guide him.

No forced runs. No screaming for passes.

Just reading.

Breathing.

Waiting.

—

75th Minute

Palace pressed high—too high.

Nathan peeled off the midfield, slipping behind a blind spot.

Valverde spotted it.

Tap.

Nathan received under pressure—three men around him.

Tap-Tap—Flick!

He escaped, toe-poking it back to Valverde.

Bang!

Valverde zipped a return pass into Zirkzee.

Zirkzee controlled—shielded—then nudged it forward.

Nathan was already there.

Slide in. Toe poke.

Dink—!!

The ball rolled past the keeper like silk, brushing the inside of the net.

GOAL!!! 1–1

Selhurst groaned. The away end erupted.

Commentator’s voice rang through radios and screens:

"GOLD-CLASS GOAL! Müller would be proud! Brilliant awareness from Nathan Perry—what a touch!"

Nathan didn’t jump or scream.

He just jogged back toward midfield, a ghost of a grin on his face.

Valverde caught up, arm draped around him. "Now that’s how you pass under pressure."

Nathan exhaled.

"I owed the post one."

—

82nd Minute

United surged.

The team smelt the tide turning.

Bruno nearly slipped Rashford through. Dalot had a cross blocked off the line. Onana barely had to move.

The ball came to Nathan again—central. Thirty yards out.

He turned.

The defender hesitated.

Wrong move.

Nathan stepped forward and—

BOOM!!

Right-foot rocket. Low and swerving.

The keeper saw it late—dived, desperate—

SLAP!!

One hand pushed it wide.

The crowd gasped again.

Nathan winced. Hands on hips.

—

Full-Time: 1–1

The whistle blew. Players dropped to their knees. Selhurst Park was quieter now—not silent—but no longer mocking.

Nathan walked toward the tunnel slowly.

The crowd near the dugout began to clap. Lightly. A few at first. Then more.

He turned slightly.

Took it in.

Accepted it.

—

Guehi appeared beside him, jersey half untucked, breath heavy.

He extended a hand.

Nathan took it.

"I was wrong," Guehi said, voice low. "You’ve got star charisma."

Nathan raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly.

"Thanks... and you’ll remember me in the return leg."

Guehi chuckled. "I’ll be ready."

"So will I."

The handshake lingered a beat longer.

Respect.

—

Later That Night

The media ran with it.

"Nathan Perry: Back-to-back goals for Manchester United. This kid’s not joking."

"From the academy to the headlines—Perry carving his name."

"Selhurst silenced. Twice."