Barnsley versus Sheffield United.
Sheffield United were third in the league. They were big. They were rich. They were angry that a little club like Barnsley was sitting right behind them in fourth place.
Michael stood in the tunnel. The air smelled of wintergreen heat rub and nervous sweat.
Arthur Milton stood next to him. The old scout had replaced his usual flat cap with a lucky red beanie hat that looked ridiculous but kept his ears warm.
"They are big, Boss," Arthur shouted over the noise of the crowd. "Look at them. They feed them bricks."
Michael looked at the Sheffield United team lined up in the tunnel. Arthur was right. Their center backs looked like nightclub bouncers. Their striker was a beard with legs. They were staring straight ahead, chewing gum aggressively.
But then Michael looked at his own team.
The Misfits.
