After Wolves restarted the game, Arthur stood up from the bench, waving both hands like a man trying to guide traffic after a car crash.
He pressed his palms downward, signaling the players to calm the heck down.
After 25 minutes of non-stop, full-throttle pressing like caffeinated greyhounds, Arthur knew the team's gas tanks were almost empty. Their legs were about to turn into noodles.
They were already two goals up anyway. There was no point in sprinting around like lunatics and passing out before halftime.
So Leeds United slowed the tempo, finally letting the poor pitch breathe again.
Wolves, sensing a rare moment where they weren't being chased by a pack of wolves (ironically enough), tried to string some passes together. They pushed the ball wide, again and again, hoping something magical might happen.
Spoiler: nothing magical happened.
Their whole game plan was basically, "kick it to the wing and pray."No creativity. No guts. No brain.And absolutely no threat to Leeds' goal whatsoever.
The second half of the first half dribbled away, flat and uneventful.By the time the whistle for halftime blew, everyone — players, fans, even Arthur — knew Wolves had about as much bite as a sleepy goldfish.
But even during the break, Wolves fans who had traveled all this way weren't ready to admit reality. Oh no, they were just warming up to complain.
"Hmph, it's just luck!" one Wolves fan muttered while folding his arms so tightly it looked like he was trying to squeeze himself into a jacket two sizes too small."I've never seen anyone who looks like him understand football," another one added, spitting the words out like sour milk.
Another fan, proudly wearing an ancient Wolves jersey that had seen better centuries, chimed in:"Look, Leeds players ran around like headless chickens in the first half. They'll collapse soon enough! Just wait!"
Confidence was high. Reality was low.
Meanwhile, inside the Leeds United locker room, Arthur wasn't letting the players get cocky.
He stood in front of them, practically vibrating with excitement."Well done, boys!" he shouted, clapping his hands hard enough to scare the water bottles. "You did a fantastic job!"
The players grinned, catching their breath, still panting from their first-half madness.
"But!" Arthur raised a finger. "We're only halfway there. There's still 45 minutes to go. I don't want any of you thinking we've already won!"
He pointed toward the wall as if Wolves' players were hiding behind it."Look at those guys! They're DONE. Old men! They can barely jog!"
Laughter exploded around the locker room. Even Chiellini, normally a statue of seriousness, chuckled under his breath.
Arthur slammed his fist into his palm."Rest up now. Because when that whistle blows, I want you crushing them! Tell me — CAN YOU DO IT?"
Captain Milner, already red-faced from adrenaline, jumped up and roared, "NO PROBLEM, BOSS! WATCH US CRUSH THESE OLD MEN!"
The room shook with the players' chants. It was like a Viking war council, but with more Gatorade.
Arthur nodded, satisfied. He had them exactly where he wanted them.
He also knew the truth: Wolves were completely unsuited to handling a high press. They had about as much hope surviving the second half as a snowman in July.
Unless the Wolves coach suddenly swapped out half his squad for marathon runners, they were in serious trouble.
Spoiler: he didn't.
As soon as the second half kicked off, Leeds United exploded again, pressing like maniacs.
It was déjà vu for Wolves, but somehow even worse.Arthur's team swarmed them so fast it looked like Leeds had extra players hidden on the pitch.
On the Wolves' sideline, their coach was losing his mind. He hopped up and down like a kid who needed the bathroom, screaming at his players to "Just kick it long! Stop passing at the back!"
Good advice. Shame it was already too late.
Within just 10 minutes, Leeds United had stolen the ball three times in Wolves' defensive third. Three times, they created chances. Three times, they missed.
Arthur was not happy about that.
Charging down the touchline like a man with a mission, he cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed:"Emmanuel! Did you leave your shooting boots in the locker room at halftime?!"Adebayor, missing a shot wide, gave a sheepish thumbs-up that probably didn't help his case.
"And Carlos!" Arthur bellowed, practically spitting fire, "What did I JUST SAY? Run! Run, dammit! Don't stand there looking pretty!"
Right on cue, the stadium cameras zoomed in on Arthur mid-yell, his face the exact shade of an overripe tomato.His furious expression appeared live on the big screen for all 20,000 fans to see.
And the reaction?
Pure adoration.
Fans who had been skeptical before — those who grumbled about "some random guy coaching Leeds" — suddenly changed their tune faster than a DJ at closing time.
"Look at this young lad," an old man said, nudging his friend with his elbow. "Handsome too! I apologize for calling him a lucky fool earlier."
"Yeah," his buddy nodded seriously. "He's got the spirit! He looks like a real boss out there!"
The female fans, though, were a different story entirely.
They were ready to launch a full-blown fan club by halftime.
"My God," one girl squealed, clutching her cheeks, "his chest muscles are about to rip that suit apart!"Another one, clutching a homemade sign, sighed dramatically, "I think I'm in love with him. He's got such a big temper."
"You better mean the temper I'm thinking of," her friend giggled.
Several young women, seemingly from nowhere, had conjured up giant signs and were waving them like crazy. The signs even had their home addresses scrawled across them in glitter pens.
"Marry me, Arthur!""Arthur, take me home!""Coach my heart, Arthur!"
But Arthur, busy pacing the sidelines, furiously shouting orders like a general in battle, didn't even notice.
He didn't see the heart eyes.He didn't see the flying signs.He didn't hear the hormonal chaos in the stands.
He had only one thing on his mind:Score another goal. Crush these old men. Make Wolves wish they never got on the bus.
And with the way things were going, it was only a matter of time.
In the 57th minute, Wolves managed to get their first corner kick of the game. Now, this wasn't something that had been on anyone's bingo card for the match, given how thoroughly Leeds had been running circles around them. Still, here they were — about to take a corner kick.
Arthur, who had been watching the match unfold with the intensity of a kid in a candy store, quickly turned to his coaching staff and gave them the universal sign for "keep it cool." With a sharp gesture, he told his defenders to hang back and only send two players into the penalty area. He didn't want anyone overcommitting. After all, this was the first time Wolves had gotten this close to scoring. Arthur wasn't about to let them spoil his beautiful high-pressing party just because of a corner kick.
At this point, everyone had crowded into Leeds' penalty area, making the space look more packed than a sale at a discount store. Sneijder and Tevez, meanwhile, were standing around like two guys who got invited to the party but weren't really interested in taking part in the dancing. Both of them were standing at the center circle, and Arthur had specifically chosen them to stay out of the set-piece defensive duties. They weren't exactly known for their aerial prowess. At 1.7 meters tall, neither of them was going to be winning any headers against Wolves' defenders, who were as tall as skyscrapers.
The referee blew his whistle. And just like that, the corner kick was taken. The ball floated into the air, a little too high for most of the Wolves' players to do anything useful with, but there was one man who wasn't going to let it pass him by — Chiellini. With the precision of a well-practiced professional wrestler landing an elbow drop, Chiellini soared up and got his head on the ball, sending it right back into the penalty area.
On the Leeds side, the ever-alert Milner was the first to react. He had a radar in his head that pinged every time the ball came near, and he quickly seized the opportunity. He collected the ball and passed it out wide to the left before the Wolves players even had a chance to surround him. Smooth.
McKenna, who had been quietly hanging out on the left side, immediately dribbled forward. The Wolves defense, looking like a confused band of lost sheep, didn't know whether to stick with their man-marking duties or try to halt the Leeds players breaking forward. McKenna had no one in front of him. The remaining two defenders were busy chasing after Tevez and Sneijder, leaving McKenna with a clear path to run down the pitch.
Just as McKenna approached the edge of the Wolves' penalty area, Ins, who had been shadowing Tevez, made a big mistake. With a knowing look, he pointed to the defender next to Sneijder and started rushing towards McKenna, trying to stop his run. Ins, like a seasoned chess player, was planning to block McKenna's cutting route, but McKenna had other plans.
With the sort of sneaky move that would make even the slickest magician jealous, McKenna dribbled the ball one step closer to the goal line. And then, just as Ins thought he had the ball pinned, McKenna pulled a classic fake-out. He let the ball roll past him and, without missing a beat, sped around Ins to chase after the ball.
Now, Ins was left standing there, feeling like the world's most embarrassed traffic cone, while McKenna zipped toward the Wolves' goal.
Just as everyone thought McKenna was about to send a low pass to Tevez, who was in prime position to score, McKenna pulled off yet another curveball. He ignored Tevez and passed the ball right past the Wolves goalkeeper and defenders like they weren't even there. The ball flew across the penalty area, untouched, before landing perfectly at the feet of Sneijder, who was standing just inside the small penalty box.
On the big screen, you could see Sneijder preparing for the shot, his foot coming back like a spring-loaded weapon. He struck the ball with such force it looked like he was trying to kick a hole through the net.
And then it happened — the ball slammed into the back of the net.
Goal. 3-0.
The Leeds fans, who had been waiting patiently for this moment, erupted into cheers. The noise from the south stand was enough to shake the very foundations of Elland Road. Hundreds of scarves were waved in the air. For the fans who had been there through all the good times and the bad, it was more than just a game. It was a cathartic release. They had lived through the highs and lows of Leeds United's history. They had suffered through the fall from grace, but now, with Arthur at the helm, they could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
The older fans, the ones with the silver hair, were already wiping tears from their eyes. They hugged each other, grinning like kids in a candy store. These were the same fans who had seen Leeds rise to the top and fall apart, and now, they were witnessing a revival.
Arthur, on the sideline, stood there like a man who had just seen his dreams come true. It wasn't just the goal, it was the entire performance. His team had played exactly the way he wanted — fast, high-pressing, ruthless. They were a team reborn, and this goal was the icing on the cake.
The Wolves players, on the other hand, were now visibly broken. Their heads hung low. The joy from the Leeds fans was a direct contrast to the despair on the Wolves' side. There was no fight left in them. Any hope they had of coming back was now dashed.
By the time the 91st minute rolled around, the game was as good as over. The final whistle blew, and Elland Road erupted. The crowd was on fire. Leeds had not only won, but they had dominated. They had been clinical, ruthless, and entertaining.
And as the fans chanted Arthur's name, he couldn't help but crack a smile. He had come into this game, this season, with a point to prove. And today, his team had backed him up every step of the way.
It was a moment to savor. But Arthur knew this was only the beginning. He wasn't going to let his foot off the gas. The players were hungry. The fans were hungry. And most importantly, Arthur was hungry. Hungry for more.
So, as the final whistle blew and the cheers echoed around Elland Road, Arthur's eyes shifted to the next challenge. Because, for him, the journey had just begun.
···········
After the game, Sneijder, fresh from his dazzling performance with a goal and an assist, was named the best player of the match. Arthur, not one to shy away from a moment of glory, decided to bring him along to the post-game press conference.
The Wolves' coach, who had just wrapped up his interview, shuffled out of the room with a face that looked like he'd just been told to run a marathon in a pair of flip-flops. He couldn't help but glance over at Arthur and his Leeds team, who were making their entrance into the press area. The reporters, who were clearly more interested in Arthur and his boys than the defeated Wolves manager, immediately shifted their attention to the new kings of the Championship.
If there had been any lingering doubt about Arthur's abilities, it was clear that the atmosphere had changed. The reporters' faces, which had once held skepticism and doubt, now displayed wide smiles. They were more than happy to shower praise on the victorious Leeds United. They were ready to roll out the red carpet for this unexpected mastermind.
Arthur, as cool and collected as ever, slid into his chair. The first reporter to break the silence had a question that seemed to have been brewing in his mind for hours: "It's incredible, Li. Leeds United brought something new to the Championship today. Congratulations on your big win."
The other reporters followed suit, nodding and offering their congratulations as they turned their focus to Arthur and Sneijder.
Arthur, ever the showman, couldn't resist a little playful jab. He blinked a couple of times, leaned back in his chair, and responded with the kind of teasing tone that made the room crack a smile: "Thank you, everyone. Actually, I emphasized before the game that although our lineup has changed this week, these changes are positive. Facts have proven that I did not lie!"
There was an awkward pause. A few of the reporters, the ones who had been skeptical of Arthur's "radical" changes to the team lineup earlier in the week, shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Arthur, ever the master of turning the tables, simply gave them a knowing grin, the kind that said, "I told you so."
He wasn't about to let them off that easy. Before any of them could ask the next question, Arthur leaned forward and spoke with a level of certainty that made it impossible for anyone in the room to doubt his vision: "I believe everyone has seen Leeds United's performance today. I've said before that our goal this season is to return to the Premier League. This has never changed."
There it was again — the confident declaration that had sparked debates in the media and had even gotten some doubters to raise their eyebrows. But now, Arthur wasn't just talking the talk; he was walking the walk, and the proof was in the 3-0 victory against Wolves.
With that, Arthur stood up from his seat, pointed at Sneijder, who was still basking in the glory of his game-winning performance, and gave the reporters a gentle nudge: "Alright, now, it's time for you to interview the man of the hour. Go ahead and talk to Sneijder."
The reporters, always quick to catch the vibe, nodded and eagerly turned their focus to Sneijder, who was no doubt going to be answering questions for the next ten minutes about his fantastic performance. Arthur, however, had other plans. As he made his way toward the door, his mind wasn't on the press conference anymore. No, Arthur had heard the sweet sound of his task completion prompt in his head, and that meant only one thing: it was time to open his treasure chest.
The promise of rewards, perhaps even something that could give Leeds a little extra edge in the future, was far more tantalizing than any post-game interview. After all, who needs reporters when you've got magical rewards at your fingertips?
Once outside the press room, Arthur made a beeline for his office. He had a treasure chest to open. It was like he was a kid in a candy store, and this chest was the golden ticket. Every task completed, every victory earned, had now built up to this moment.
Arthur sat down at his desk, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. His eyes gleamed as he clicked to open the chest.
What could it be? A new signing? A tactical boost? Maybe a magic spell that made his team run 20% faster? The possibilities were endless, and the excitement was building up.