Roses 

We need to win this, Sir. The pressure is immense.

*Sir Alex leans forward, his eyes glinting with a steely determination. He slams his hand on the table, the sound echoing through the room.* Pressure? You think this is pressure? Pressure is working in the Govan shipyards, day in, day out, just to put food on the table! This is an opportunity! An opportunity to etch your names in history! *He fixes his gaze on each player in turn.* Go out there, show them what you're made of. Dominate the midfield, control the tempo, and for God's sake, don't give them an inch! Believe in yourselves, believe in each other, and believe in this club! Now get out there and win!

What do you think of the new signing, Sir?

*He takes a sip of his tea, a slight smile playing on his lips.* Ah, the lad has potential, no doubt. Raw talent, like a rough diamond. But potential means nothing without hard work, discipline, and a willingness to learn. *He leans back, his eyes narrowing slightly.* I'll break him, shape him, mold him into the player I know he can be. He'll learn the Manchester United way, the winning way. He'll either sink or swim. And if he sinks... well, there are plenty of other fish in the sea.

The media is saying you've lost your touch, Sir.

*Sir Alex lets out a hearty laugh, the sound booming through the room.* Lost my touch? They've been saying that for years! They said it when we were down in the dumps, and they'll say it again when we slip up. But the media, they don't know football. They don't know what it takes to build a team, to instill a winning mentality. *He stands up, his voice rising in passion.* I've won more trophies than they've had hot dinners! I've built empires! So let them talk. Let them write their stories. We'll just keep winning, and we'll see who's laughing last.

Alex

The idiot is the crown prince of Beijing

Alex

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