Chapter 318: A Gift from Manchester United—Premier League Champions with Five Games to Spare!
Leon's response to the Sky Italia reporter's praise may have sounded humble at first, but anyone who had followed his career closely—be it at Real Madrid, Milan, or now Chelsea—knew it wasn't just modesty.
He had always answered questions like that the same way.
Leon genuinely didn't believe in the concept of "winning by yourself." Sure, it was the media's job to hype players. Sure, fans could gush about their favorite stars with passionate exaggeration.
But for a professional footballer to actually believe that? That would be a betrayal to his teammates—disrespectful, even shameful.
There is no football without teamwork.
And without the support and sacrifice of the team, even the greatest player would be drowned in tactical traps and relentless marking.
So Leon didn't like it when reporters posed those kinds of foolish questions.
To him, the team always came first. And his respect for his teammates was unwavering.
After fielding a couple more questions, Leon lost interest in the press altogether and cut the interviews short.
Then, after hugging each of his teammates in celebration, he walked toward the Juventus half.
"Álvaro, you played really well today."
"Boss."
Leon opened his arms and gave Morata a big hug.
It had been a while since they'd seen each other.
Unable to secure a starting spot at Real Madrid, Morata had eventually left La Liga and joined Juventus.
Leon couldn't help but marvel at how "history" always had a way of repeating itself.
Still, compared to the version of Morata in his memories—rotating in and out of the Juventus XI—this Morata had come much further.
After developing as one of the primary striker options under Mourinho at Madrid, Morata had matured significantly.
Now, in his first Serie A season, he was already Juve's undisputed starting center forward with 17 league goals.
Leon was sincerely happy for his old friend.
If Morata stayed focused, he'd steadily rise into the ranks of Europe's elite strikers in the coming seasons.
The two chatted enthusiastically on the pitch before exchanging shirts and parting ways with a warm embrace.
Leon then jogged, shirtless, toward Pirlo, who had just finished trading shirts with Kroos.
"Maestro!"
"Little Lion."
It had been nearly two years since they last crossed paths—back in a preseason friendly after Leon's first transfer to Chelsea.
Leon was beaming. Pirlo, smiling back, was proud and content.
Seeing a former student stay true to his path, rising as a leader and pushing toward greatness—this was what veterans at the twilight of their careers lived for.
The old era of football was fading. But players like Leon carried their torch forward into the new one.
If Leon really did lead Chelsea to Champions League glory as their core and captain, he would surely claim the Ballon d'Or next January.
That would place him beyond even Alonso and Pirlo in career honors—and put him on the trail of Zinedine Zidane, the greatest midfield icon of them all.
Pirlo, speaking from the heart, didn't mind being part of that story.
His own career had been complete: league titles, Champions League, a World Cup—he had tasted every flavor of victory and defeat.
He'd played for Italy's greatest clubs and reached every milestone a midfielder could hope for.
Even that 2012 loss to Spain in the Euros didn't feel like a regret anymore.
That Italy side had pushed beyond their limits and made it all the way to the final, beating Germany and facing a peak Spain team in the end.
That in itself had been a miracle.
Yes, Pirlo still dreamed of another Champions League medal. But if he had to lose?
He hoped it would be to Chelsea and Leon—the best team in Europe this season.
At least that way, they'd only have lost to the very best.
The two didn't talk about the next leg.
They simply checked in on each other's lives and reminisced about their time together at Milan.
Soon, Ibrahimović joined them. The three stood together, laughing, covering their mouths as they chatted.
It was a joyful reunion—but also a bittersweet one for Milan fans watching.
A Chinese football forum posted a photo of the trio, and fans flooded the comments:
"Protect Milan!"
"Milan Protection Society strongly condemns this emotional damage!"
"Milan fans can't handle this pain…"
"Who said Milan isn't in the Champions League? Look, it's all ex-Milan players out there! Hahaha!"
"Someone help him. He's lost it. Drag him away!"
…
As the match wrapped up, the atmosphere in Juventus Stadium became warm and respectful.
Still, Leon and Ibrahimović didn't stay in Italy overnight for dinner and nostalgia.
The pressure of the league returned immediately for both Premier League and Serie A clubs.
Chelsea flew back to London that very night.
Matchday 33 of the Premier League kicked off on April 18th, with Chelsea set to face fellow London side Crystal Palace.
Palace were safe from relegation. Their survival point tally was secure.
They weren't expected to go all out against Chelsea.
But the Blues couldn't afford to slip—not this late in the season.
Palace had just upset Manchester City in their previous home match.
And Chelsea weren't about to manufacture drama at the finish line.
Back in training, the squad approached prep with laser focus.
Meanwhile, Manchester City were preparing for their second Manchester derby of the season.
Since the second half of the league began, United had been on a tear.
Van Gaal's strange "giant-circle" formation was winning games left and right—including wins over Arsenal and Liverpool.
City had the talent. But their morale was shaky.
Facing a surging United side now?
The outcome was far from guaranteed.
If the stars aligned, and Chelsea beat Crystal Palace while City lost the Manchester Derby—
Chelsea would clinch the Premier League title with five games to spare.
It wasn't impossible.
Chelsea fans, ahead of this pivotal matchday, transformed into die-hard Manchester United supporters.
No joke—they were praying for a United win harder than some actual United fans.
Fortunately for Chelsea, Manchester United had every reason to go all-out against Manchester City.
The Red Devils had clawed their way up to fifth place in the Premier League table and were desperate to return to the Champions League next season.
That meant every single one of their final six matches mattered—massively.
Tottenham sat just four points ahead of them in fourth, and Liverpool only trailed by two.
The race for the top four was brutal.
Van Gaal needed results if he wanted to keep his job.
So United had no reason to hold back—and Chelsea fans took comfort in that.
England's major sports media outlets had already prepared to witness Chelsea officially clinch the title.
The three-day preparation window flew by.
On the afternoon of April 18th, both Chelsea and Manchester City hosted key matchday opponents—
simultaneously.
The matches kicked off at the same time, meaning neither team would be distracted by news from the other game.
For fans, this simultaneous start was thrilling.
What made it even more fun?
Most Chelsea fans were glued to the Manchester Derby.
Meanwhile, most City fans kept one eye locked on Stamford Bridge.
At exactly 15:00, two of the most-watched Premier League matches of the season kicked off.
Chelsea rotated just two players—Terry and Ibrahimović—fielding a nearly full-strength XI against Crystal Palace.
City, facing United, had also gone all-in.
Remarkably, Mourinho and Guardiola deployed nearly identical strategies this round.
From the opening whistle, Chelsea's 4-3-3 fired on all cylinders, pressing high and swarming Palace's half.
They weren't worried about Zaha breaking loose and punishing them on the counter.
Azpilicueta had him on lockdown.
And Karlo Lás, paired with Thiago Silva at center-back, was keeping one eye on Palace's danger man at all times.
Both defenders were elite in one-on-one situations.
Mourinho's game plan was meticulous.
Chelsea's attackers executed it with confidence.
Leon made no secret of his role—he was feeding Hazard to blow up the right side of Palace's defense.
Bertrand pushed up in support, always ready to overlap.
Everyone in the stadium knew Chelsea were targeting the left flank.
Palace knew.
They just couldn't stop it.
Hazard and Bertrand had torn through the Premier League all season.
Their chemistry was now on par with the best in Europe—just a notch below Real Madrid's lethal left side.
Even Neymar and Alba weren't necessarily more effective.
Right-back Mariappa held up for maybe six minutes.
After that, he had to call for help.
Punched retreated to assist, but Hazard made him look like a cone.
By the 10th minute, Palace's right flank was already cracking.
Chelsea's repeated assaults forced Palace's entire backline to shift right.
Then, in the 14th minute, Hazard shook off Puncheon again.
Bertrand was wide open on the overlap.
Mariappa tracked him.
But Hazard faked the inside run—then rolled the ball back to Leon, who called for it in the half-space.
Leon, without hesitation, pinged a perfect diagonal ball to the weak side—
where De Bruyne had ghosted in unmarked.
Palace's left side was a mess.
De Bruyne brought it down, looked up, and whipped a low cross into the box.
Leon's late run pulled defenders toward the back post—
And Drogba, popping up at the near post, used his thigh to redirect the ball into the net!
Drogba roared in delight, waving teammates over as he led a classic knee-slide celebration.
Leon sprinted in and tackled him to the turf.
The rest of the team piled on.
On the bench, Mourinho and Holland were locked in a bear hug.
It was only the beginning.
For Chelsea, the goal ignited their rhythm.
For Palace, it spelled the start of a long day.
They failed to get anything going on the counter and gradually began pushing higher to look for chances.
Mistake.
Chelsea struck again—twice.
In the 31st and 39th minutes, they capitalized again.
Three goals in the first half.
Game over.
Meanwhile, the Manchester Derby was still deadlocked at 0–0 after 45 minutes.
Chelsea weren't trying to inflate the scoreline in the second half.
They controlled possession and conserved energy.
Lukaku, subbed in after the hour mark, made it 4–0 in the 74th minute—slamming home a through-ball from Leon.
That was the final nail.
Zaha wanted to restore some pride.
But between Azpilicueta and Karlo Lás, he never got a real chance.
Only two minutes of added time.
The whistle blew.
But Chelsea didn't celebrate immediately.
Instead, they sprinted to the bench, huddling around their coaches.
"What's the score in Manchester?!"
Holland glanced at his phone, voice tight with suspense.
"Two minutes left!"
United and City were still tied.
Leon folded his arms, standing slightly apart, breathing slow—but he wasn't calm.
"Two minutes left… come on, United. Just hold. Don't let Agüero hit a winner now…"
Lukaku muttered under his breath, rubbing his hands together.
Then—slap!
His teammates jokingly smacked him for jinxing it.
Leon chuckled. But he, too, counted in his head.
One minute… thirty-seven seconds…
Then—
"IT'S OVER! FULL-TIME IN MANCHESTER! ZERO-ZERO! WE'RE CHAMPIONS!!!"
Holland screamed.
The huddle exploded.
Chelsea's players scattered in joy across the pitch.
At that same moment, Stamford Bridge roared to life.
Nearly 40,000 fans went berserk.
Leon didn't race to the corner flag or leap into the crowd.
He ran straight to Mourinho.
They hugged—tight.
Another title.
Another early crown.
They had the makings of a dynasty now.
Like the United teams of old.
Chelsea had gone back-to-back in the Premier League.
And next season?
The iron-blooded Blues would begin their reign.
Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.
Read 40 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/johanssen10