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Although the press conference had been a surprise, it wasn't exactly the kind of surprise anyone had hoped for.
Arthur's announcement about taking over as Leeds United's head coach was like a sudden thunderstorm on a clear day. The room, which had been calm moments earlier, exploded into chaos. The reporters' jaws dropped as their pens started flying across their notepads, and murmurs filled the air like a cloud of bees.
At first, the shock was so thick it could almost be cut with a knife. The question came from a reporter near the front, his hand raised in disbelief as he almost shouted, "Mr. Arthur, this can't be serious. A club owner being a part-time coach? You've got to be joking, right? There's never been a precedent for that in the English Football League. And besides, do you even have a coaching license from the English Football Association? Is this some kind of prank?"
Arthur, ever the professional, took a deep breath. The reporter's words weren't entirely without merit. In England, to be officially recognized as a coach, you needed a certification from the Football Association. This was something Arthur knew well, and as soon as the system had unlocked his [Master Coach] ability, it had handled all the paperwork for him. The English Football Association coaching license had already been processed, and he was now fully certified—at the highest level.
Arthur leaned into the microphone and answered with a confidence that seemed to catch the reporter off guard. "Of course I have it. You can check my credentials on the official website of the English Football Association if you want. It's all legitimate."
For a split second, the room went silent.
Then, as though someone had thrown a switch, the reporters began frantically pulling out their phones. Within seconds, there was the collective clicking of camera shutters and the unmistakable sound of people tapping away at their smartphones. It was as though everyone had collectively forgotten how to function like normal human beings.
Arthur sat back in his chair, arms crossed, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched the reporters scramble. He wasn't worried. The truth was, he had nothing to hide. He'd done his homework, and now he was ready for this.
About thirty seconds later, the reporters slowly raised their heads from their phones, their eyes wide. They looked at Arthur as though they were seeing a rare species of animal that had just walked into the room.
Some of them were even shaking their heads in disbelief. A club owner getting the highest-level coaching license in England? This was beyond what they could comprehend. It didn't make any sense. How could someone who owned a football club also be their manager? Surely, this was a mistake?
The situation only grew stranger as time passed.
"Unbelievable..." one muttered under his breath.
Another whispered, "Did he actually get the highest coaching license? Is he serious?"
Arthur didn't mind the surprise. In fact, he enjoyed it. They could have their doubts, but he knew he had everything in place. There was no way they could argue with facts once they'd confirmed them.
Meanwhile, at the Leeds United training base, things were a little less formal, but just as awkward.
It was 8:30 AM on a Wednesday morning when Wesley Sneijder walked through the doors of the training ground with his small bag slung over his shoulder. He wasn't used to coming in this early—after all, he wasn't exactly known for being a morning person—but he'd heard from Allen, Arthur's assistant, that today's training session would be led by the new head coach. Sneijder had been with Leeds United for a few months now and had barely seen any action under Blackwell's reign, so he was eager to get a fresh start.
He figured that if he could make a good impression on the new head coach, maybe, just maybe, he'd finally get some playing time. He'd missed playing regularly and was itching for a chance to show what he could do.
As Sneijder entered the locker room, he noticed he wasn't alone. In fact, there were three others already sitting down, chatting quietly.
One of them, a tall, bald man sitting next to a locker, looked up as Sneijder walked in and smiled warmly. "Good morning! I'm Vincent Kompany. Nice to meet you."
Sneijder smiled back and nodded. "Hey, I'm Wesley Sneijder. Welcome to Leeds United."
Kompany, with his deep voice and unshakable confidence, seemed like the kind of guy who had no problem adjusting to the English game. He seemed laid-back, despite the high-profile transfers both of them had been a part of over the summer. Sneijder liked him immediately.
Just then, Chiellini, who had also joined Leeds that summer, spoke up. "Wesley, have you figured out who the new head coach is yet?"
Sneijder shook his head, "No, no idea. You'll have to ask these two guys," he said, gesturing to the other two players. "They might know more than me."
Before anyone could respond, Schmeichel, the Danish goalkeeper sitting beside Chiellini, piped up. "We don't know either. I actually met our boss in Manchester once, but he didn't mention anything about the new coach then."
The group continued to chatter idly, exchanging guesses about who their new head coach might be. Maybe it would be someone from the top leagues, or perhaps a manager with a wealth of experience. They were all curious, none of them knowing what to expect.
But then, just as they were getting lost in conversation, the door to the locker room creaked open again.
Arthur entered, dressed in sportswear—a white cap perched on his head, a clipboard in one hand, and a whistle hanging from his neck. His usual business attire had been swapped out for something more suitable for a coaching role, but the players immediately recognized him.
Chiellini and Sneijder, who were both familiar with Arthur, exchanged confused glances. They had seen him around the club plenty of times, but this? This was different.
He wasn't wearing a suit or tie, which was how they were used to seeing him. Now he looked like… like he was ready to lead a training session, not run a board meeting.
The realization hit them almost at the same time.
"No way..." they both muttered under their breath, their eyes wide.
Arthur, oblivious to their stunned expressions, walked into the room with all the confidence of a man who had just unlocked the greatest cheat code in football.
He glanced at the group of players, gave a small wave, and smiled. "Alright, lads. Let's get to work."
The room fell silent as the players took in the surreal sight. The owner of Leeds United—someone they all knew well—was now their head coach. What on earth was going on?
But Arthur wasn't waiting for their approval. He was ready to get started. "Let's have a great session today," he said, his voice firm but friendly. "And remember, we've got a game on Sunday. Let's show everyone what we're made of."
And just like that, Arthur, the owner, was now the head coach, with nothing but a whistle and his newly acquired coaching certificate to his name.
The players were left to wonder: could this actually work? Could the owner, a man who they'd all thought of as a businessman, pull this off? Or was this about to turn into the most chaotic few months in the club's history?
One thing was for sure—no one was going to be bored.
That's how things stood as the door to the training room closed behind Arthur. The players exchanged uneasy glances before silently nodding, realizing this was happening, like it or not. They were about to find out what kind of coach Arthur really was.
***
Three hours later, the morning training session was finally winding down. The players, drenched in sweat and more than ready for a rest, were trudging back to the locker room.
Their legs felt like jelly, their bodies screamed for mercy, but there was something different about today. For the first time in a long while, they felt... excited.
Arthur—who, despite still looking like he belonged in a boardroom rather than a training ground—had just put them through the most dynamic, innovative session they'd experienced in months. It wasn't just the usual drills they'd been enduring under Blackwell, the previous manager, but something fresh. Something different.
Arthur, in his signature tracksuit (complete with a clipboard, because, of course, that's a must-have when you're a self-proclaimed "manager"), had broken from the mold.
Gone was the boring, defensive, counter-attacking nonsense. Instead, there were tactical exercises—real, thoughtful drills. And more than anything, there were options.
Arthur was testing different formations, running through various setups, and throwing in surprise moves that had the players feeling like they were part of something alive.
For the first time, the players actually had the opportunity to showcase their talents. He divided them into two groups for confrontation drills—Group A and Group B.
But Group A, well, that's where the magic happened. Arthur made sure to throw some of the most underused players into that group.
Adebayor, Tevez, Sneijder, and Chiellini—four players who had mostly seen the bench (or the stands, in Chiellini's case) under Blackwell—were suddenly given their moment in the sun.
And let me tell you, they were loving it.
"Did you see that?" Adebayor grinned at Tevez, after one particularly well-executed counter attack. "That's what we've been missing all along."
Tevez simply smirked, not one to waste words. But he was smiling, too. The kind of smile that comes when you realize you might actually play in the next match.
Sneijder, having been stuck in Blackwell's system where he felt more like a spectator than a player, was practically beaming. "This is what I'm talking about. This is what I've been waiting for!"
Arthur was getting results. His new system, while still experimental, was giving them the chance to shine. The players couldn't believe it. A new manager had come in and given them real hope. Under Blackwell, it was like they were part of a bad sitcom that had overstayed its welcome. But now, under Arthur, it was like they'd stepped into a new series—one with actual drama, actual chances to succeed.
After the final whistle blew, and the players started heading for the locker room, there was a noticeable shift in their demeanor. No more grumbling, no more complaints about being underappreciated. These guys walked off the pitch with their heads high. They had just been given something no one had bothered to give them for months: a reason to believe.
Arthur, on the other hand, wasn't quite as relieved. While the players were high-fiving and patting each other on the back, Arthur was off to the side, sitting down on the bench. He had a mission to complete.
He pulled out his phone and accessed the system—he was curious to see just how much impact today's session had had. And, of course, he had a few players he needed to check on.
First up: Wesley Sneijder. Arthur smiled as he pulled up his profile.
Wesley Sneijder
Age: 24
Offensive Threat: 77
Defensive Strength: 43
Body Balance: 79
Long Pass Accuracy: 81
Short Pass Accuracy: 86
Shooting Accuracy: 84
Dribbling Accuracy: 81
Shooting Skills: 87
Speed/Maximum Speed: 75/79
Awareness: 87
Leadership Awareness: 71
Injury Tolerance: C
Talent: S
Current Game Status: Average
Transfer Value: 4 million Euros
Remaining Peak Period: Has not yet reached the peak period
Contract Period Remaining: 1 year and 9 months
Potential: Very high
Arthur couldn't hide his grin. Sneijder had shown clear improvements. It wasn't earth-shattering, but the system had clearly given him a boost. His passing accuracy, shooting, and dribbling were all up. His overall awareness had increased as well.
Arthur could almost hear Blackwell's disappointed sigh from here. The old manager never gave Sneijder a chance to be anything more than a benchwarmer. But Arthur? Arthur was seeing potential everywhere.
"Take that, Blackwell!" Arthur muttered under his breath. "You old, defensive-minded dinosaur."
He quickly scrolled through the other players' profiles, noticing similar improvements. Adebayor's strength was better. Tevez's shooting skills had sharpened. Even Chiellini—who had spent most of his time on the sidelines—had improved in key defensive stats.
Arthur leaned back, satisfied. The system really did work. His tactical approach, combined with the improvements from the system, was turning things around.
It wasn't just about winning matches—it was about developing these players into something better. If anything, the system was Arthur's secret weapon. He couldn't wait to see what else it could do.
Arthur stood up, stretched, and checked his watch. It was almost time. West Brom was playing Tottenham that night, and Arthur was eager to see how Tim Howard performed. He knew Howard was a gem, but Arthur was hoping for something special tonight. A few more performances like the one Howard had last time, and Arthur would have even more to be proud of.
With a smirk, Arthur left the training ground. He was looking forward to the evening. West Brom had their work cut out for them, but for
Arthur, it was just another step in the grand plan.
"Let's see what happens tonight," Arthur said to himself, stepping into his car. "I've got a good feeling about this."
And as the car pulled away from the training ground, Arthur couldn't help but think: "Maybe, just maybe, this Leeds United project is actually going to work out."