The roar of the Goodison Park crowd was a physical weight. Under the floodlights, the "Old Lady" felt alive, but there was an edge to the noise—a mixture of "show us what you've got" and "don't screw this up."
West Ham, managed by Slaven Bilić, were no pushovers in 2015. They had Dimitri Payet, a man who could bend a ball like it was controlled by a joystick.
Elias stood perfectly still in the technical area. He didn't shout. He didn't wave his arms. He watched the first ten minutes with the cold, calculating eyes of a man who had already seen the highlights.
The Tactical Trap
"They're overloading the left," his assistant, Duncan Ferguson, growled. "Payet is drifting. We need to man-mark him."
"No," Elias said, his eyes fixed on the pitch. "Let him drift. He's pulling our right-back out of position on purpose. Tell Coleman to stay narrow. We're going to let them have the flank, then trap them in the 'half-space.'"
At the 22nd minute, it happened exactly as Elias predicted. West Ham's Lanzini played a wide ball to the overlapping Cresswell. As the Hammers' midfield pushed up to support the attack, Everton's midfield—drilled relentlessly for two weeks—sprung the trap.
Gareth Barry intercepted a lazy square pass. In 2015, Barry was seen as a "steady" veteran. Under Elias, he was a transition trigger. One touch. A laser-accurate diagonal ball into the space West Ham had just vacated.
Romelu Lukaku was already running. He hadn't waited for the pass; he knew it was coming. He outpaced James Collins, rounded the keeper, and slotted it home.
1-0.
The stadium erupted, but Elias only checked his watch. "Thirty seconds," he muttered. "The transition took six seconds. It needs to be four."
The Mid-Match Pivot
The game stayed tense. Payet nearly leveled with a trademark free-kick that rattled the bar. At halftime, the dressing room was buzzing, but Elias walked in and threw a jug of water into the bin. The clang silenced the room.
"You're satisfied?" Elias asked, looking at Barkley. "You played three Hollywood passes that went straight to their center-backs. Ross, I told you: one touch. And John?"
John Stones looked up.
"Stop trying to Cruyff-turn in your own six-yard box. You're a world-class ball-player, but not today. Today, you are a wall. If you lose the ball there again, you're starting for the Under-23s on Monday."
He turned to the whiteboard. "In the 65th minute, they will bring on Andy Carroll. They'll go long. We're switching to a back five the moment he steps on the pitch. Deulofeu, you're coming off for Funes Mori. Don't look at me like that; we win as a collective, or we lose as individuals."
The Scout's Secret
The match ended 2-0. A late, clinical counter-attack from Gerard Deulofeu sealed it. The "Millionaire Manager" had won his first game, and the media was already salivating.
But Elias didn't go to the post-match party. He went to his private office at the stadium. There, a man was waiting—a scout Elias had hired privately, bypasssing the club's traditional network.
"Did you get him?" Elias asked.
The scout laid a dossier on the desk. It was a young player from Schalke 04.
"His name is Leroy Sané. He's nineteen. He's raw, but his speed is frightening. Man City is sniffing around, but they aren't serious yet."
"Make them serious," Elias said, opening his laptop to his offshore trading account. He had just made another £4 million on a short-sell of a failing retail giant. "Offer Schalke a deal they can't refuse. Pay it all upfront. No installments. And tell the boy he won't just be a squad player here; he'll be the face of the new Everton."
"And the other one?"
The scout hesitated. "The kid in Nice? Vincent Koziello? He's tiny, Elias. The Premier League will eat him alive."
Elias smiled. It was the same thing they had said about Kanté. "The league is changing. It's not about size anymore; it's about the 'seconds.' How many seconds can you keep the ball? How many seconds can you win it back? Buy him. Now."
The Shadow War
As Elias left the stadium, his phone buzzed. An unknown number.
"Impressive win, Mr. Thorne. But playing with the future is a dangerous game. Some people don't like it when the script is changed."
Elias stopped in the middle of the parking lot. The wind whipped his coat. He looked around, but the lot was empty.
Was he the only one who had come back? Or was the "universe" trying to correct the anomaly he had created?
He tucked the phone into his pocket, his jaw set. "Let them try," he whispered. "I've already bought the ending."