Chapter 860: Favored by Heaven
In China, the national sports channel broadcast the match live as well, and the renowned host He Wei's excited voice rang in fans' ears: "Harry Kane's brace has given Manchester United a 2–0 lead over Paris Saint-Germain at halftime, and now United need just one more goal to complete the comeback and eliminate PSG, who swaggered to a 4–1 home win in the first leg!"
"The past two weeks have been extremely difficult for both Manchester United's players and fans."
"After the drubbing at the Parc des Princes and back-to-back league draws against Chelsea and Crystal Palace, United hit a rare slump. On the brink of elimination in Europe and facing a potential league turnaround at the hands of Manchester City, the refrain across Britain, Europe, and the entire world was the same: United are finished! The United that swept England, overawed Europe, and won everything—finished! Many claimed PSG's big home win marked the end of an era, the end of United's invincible age."
"But at the critical moment, United redeemed themselves. In last weekend's Manchester derby at the Etihad, on their archrivals' turf, United trampled their foes to declare to the world that the sky over the Premier League remains red!"
"Even if that six-point swing in the derby and a win over in-form West Ham restored their league cushion, before tonight, anyone saying United could lead PSG 2–0 at half and have a shot at a turnaround would have been called crazy."
"Yet here we are at halftime, and it's truly happening—PSG are staring at the threat of elimination!"
"Coach José Mourinho and Manchester United have shown their magic to everyone—especially the second goal, an absolute work of attacking art: pace, dribbling, exquisite passing, the shot, the follow-up—no room left for PSG!"
He Wei was overtaken by emotion—not only from his admiration for United and Mourinho, but because, as a commentator, such a breathtaking goal and the prospect of a monumental comeback stir something primal.
Why are great comebacks celebrated and remembered? Because people are innately drawn to tales of relentless persistence and last-stand reversals—every person harbors a dream of heroic resurgence.
...
In the home dressing room at the Millennium Stadium, Mourinho was ablaze with energy, praising every player—especially David de Gea, whose world-class fingertip save preserved United's clean sheet.
"Well done! Outstanding!" Mourinho said.
To him, that vital brush from De Gea was worth its weight in gold.
Had Martial scored, United would have lost the away-goal cushion and needed two more to complete the turnaround.
After the accolades, Mourinho poured in more adrenaline: "Listen to the roar in the stands, look at PSG's stunned faces—they're rattled."
"In the second half, we keep playing exactly like this!"
"Coach, do we have a chance to turn it around?" Kylian Mbappé shouted, barely containing himself.
Everyone perked up at the question, eyes fixed on their manager.
It was simple arithmetic—they could do it themselves—but hearing it from this man's lips would carry a different kind of power.
"Yes. By the numbers, one more goal flips the tie," Mourinho affirmed.
The room erupted.
"But don't think about the comeback. Don't think about anything," Mourinho said, face stern. "We played so well in the first half because our minds were clear—no clutter, no noise."
"What we must do now is exactly what we did before—stay focused, do our jobs. As for the result, believe this: those who help themselves are those whom heaven helps."
Some absorbed it; others were still awash in joy, minds racing with the idea of a comeback.
There was no perfect fix—people think, people imagine, and at a moment like this, who can help it? Mourinho could only hope the thought wouldn't weigh on his players' poise or psyche.
...
In the away dressing room, the mood was heavy.
"Today is cursed," Presnel Kimpembe muttered. "Nothing of ours goes in, and everything of theirs does."
"Yeah, yeah—Anthony hit the woodwork twice. The luck's rotten."
They weren't brooding over United's two goals—those were top-class, and indignation had no argument. What truly gnawed at them was the feeling that fortune had abandoned them.
PSG hadn't played badly in the first half—55% possession, eight shots to United's seven.
And yet, the scoreline read zero goals, two off the frame; United, two on target, two goals.
"Enough about the first half," Mauricio Pochettino clapped his hands. "Our luck was bad, which means there's nothing fundamentally wrong with us. If the luck improves even a touch, the goals will come—the win will come."
He wasn't wrong. With PSG's quality, provided fortune turned, they had every reason to believe.
But one thought lingered like a fog: what if luck didn't shift in the second half?
Never belittle that psychological weight; another one or two gilt-edged misses would twist minds tighter with each moment.
...
Pochettino made no changes. As he'd said, trailing 0–2 wasn't about systemic failure—it was about luck.
If even one of Martial's two strikes off the frame had dipped an inch, the narrative would be completely different.
And PSG's play had been good—no adjustments felt necessary in personnel or approach. Eight shots told its own story.
"Don't overthink it. Luck won't smack the frame a third time. Go for it," Pochettino told a glum Martial before they left.
A former Golden Boy, Martial hadn't reproduced the dazzling heights of that award year since arriving in Paris, but he'd remained excellent—at one time PSG's marquee star.
Neymar's record-shattering €220 million arrival eventually overtook Martial's spotlight, yet Martial's stature and influence within PSG stayed immense, and he was one of Pochettino's most trusted lieutenants.
What Pochettino prized most was Martial's year at Manchester United—only two months under Mourinho, but enough to understand United's style, possibly the trump card to end the Red Devils' myth.
Martial hadn't disappointed—his hat-trick at home powered PSG's 4–1 rout and all but killed the tie, shoving United to the brink.
United's first-half surge complicated things, and Pochettino hoped Martial would again be the man to decide it.
Martial nodded, still sullen—but the coach was right: two shots off the frame in one match was rotten luck; surely it wouldn't get worse.
...
The second half began, both sides resuming the ferocious duel.
In the 51st minute, PSG earned a penalty—Mauro Icardi was kicked by Harry Maguire as they challenged in the box, and the referee upheld the call after review. Martial stepped up; De Gea got a touch, and the ball smacked the outside of the post—clang!
Martial's face froze. So did his teammates'. Even the commentators were struck dumb, blurting out exclamations.
"Good grief! The frame again! Martial's hit the woodwork three times today!" Andy Gray moaned.
Martin Tyler shook his head, incredulous: "Martial's luck is unbelievable. He might as well buy a lottery ticket after this—his odds of winning would be better than hitting the frame three times in one match, including a penalty!"
(END CHAPTER)
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