Droisten is an amateur team that has long been involved in the lower leagues of English football. Their run-down old stadium can accommodate up to 3,000 fans, most of whom have to stand. It's a very ordinary amateur team among more than 7,000 football clubs in England. Their owner, David Pace, is just an ordinary man from Manchester, not wealthy, although he is quite stout. In the history of Droisten, their home field has almost never been full.
But suddenly, this amateur team, with its old stadium, has become the focus of attention throughout England and even European football.
It's not Droisten attracting this attention. What's really drawing the media and fans is the new Manchester United, a club funded by Manchester United's most passionate fans, who have just decided to form it and are now selecting players.
For a while, fans and media cars crowded the parking lot outside Droisten's Butcher's Knife Stadium, severely blocking traffic on Market Street.
Though it's not in the city of Manchester, to avoid obstructing the access of surrounding residents, the local police station sent several officers to help fans who are volunteering to maintain order and direct traffic.
"Hello, where is the registration office?" a young man carrying a travel bag commonly used by players asked at the stadium gate's security office.
"Turn right up ahead; the place with the most people is it!" The old security guard extended his hand out the window, pointing to the stadium.
"Oh, thank you!" The young man immediately trotted away.
Entering the stadium, he found fans everywhere in the stands, all wearing red Manchester United jerseys. Anyone looking at the scene would think a Manchester United game was taking place.
Smiling at the familiar red jerseys, the young man looked around and saw that the venue was divided into three sections. The outermost area was the registration office, full of people with a large sign indicating its location hanging over parasols.
"Hey, I'm only 62 years old. I can still play well. Just ask them!" A gray-haired old man protested to his companions behind him.
Behind him were other elderly men, all seemingly here for the trial training.
"But, he's so old, can he still run on the field?" The young man thought amusingly as he walked over, touched by the old men's determination.
They must be here for the same reason he was, to continue their connection to Manchester United through this unique club.
"Uh, do you need to perform a fitness test?" A middle-aged man who seemed to weigh at least a hundred kilograms asked, sweating.
Looking at his body, the young man thought he probably couldn't run much on the field anymore.
"I'll forget it. I'm here to make up the numbers. If I had known there would be so many people today, I wouldn't have come." When it was his turn, the fat man voluntarily confessed to the applicants. "My name is Jim, the taxi driver. This is my phone number. Call me if you need me. I promise to be there and won't charge you!"
With that, the fat man cheerfully walked away to the stands.
"Hello!" When it was his turn, the young man stepped forward and greeted.
"Hello!" The registrant stared at the young man for a moment. "How old are you?"
"13 years old!" the young man answered with a smile. "I'm from London."
There was a sudden uproar among the crowd. A 13-year-old from London here for the New Manchester United trial?
The registrant looked at the young man, clearly not wanting to disappoint him but having to follow the rules.
"I'm sorry, but the players we select must be at least 16 years old. I'm really sorry!" the registrant said politely.
The young man was stunned, quickly becoming anxious. "No, look, although I'm only 13, I'm not shorter than a 16-year-old. I'm strong. I've worked hard for this. I play center. Believe me, I can meet the team's requirements!"
"I'm really sorry!" The registrant was full of apologies, knowing this avid Manchester United fan had come from London.
The young man's optimism faded, his eyes darkening. "I don't need to be paid or can be a substitute. I..."
"Sorry, these are the FA rules. I'm really sorry!" The answer was still no.
The boy bit his lip, forcing himself not to cry, nodding towards the staff member. "Thank you."
As he turned to leave, the staff member stood up. "Can you leave your phone number? We'll notify you when our team forms a youth echelon."
The boy's face lit up. He nodded, ran back, and carefully wrote his address and phone number in the logbook, adding his name with care.
Curtis Davis.
"What a cute little Red Devil!" the staff member said with a smile as Curtis left.
The incident at the registration office didn't attract much attention, but Levi Ackerman, who had just stepped out of the office, saw it all and was deeply moved.
As an avid fan, Levi appreciated the young boy's determination.
Suddenly, Levi understood why Walsh and others were so busy yet so cheerful.
"I really envy you!" a fat middle-aged man said, approaching Levi. "Droisten has never received attention like this. You have a unique team!"
"Mr. Pace, you're too humble. With your support, Droisten is improving. I believe we'll soon be promoted to the National League," Levi replied.
David Pace had given Levi a lot of advice and help when forming the new club, even providing the venue for free. As a clothing business owner, Pace decided to provide free jerseys and socks to each player of Levi's new club, for which Levi was very grateful.
But Pace's words reminded Levi of an important fact: funding is crucial for a football club.
However, finding sponsorship for a newly formed club in the lowest league was difficult, so Levi had to solve this problem himself.
"By the way, what's the name of your club?" Pace lit a cigarette, knowing Levi didn't smoke.
"We originally intended to be called United FC, but it was rejected by the FA. So we chose four more: Manchester United FC, Manchester FC, AFC Manchester 1878, and Newton Heath United FC."
"Oh, all connected to Manchester United. No matter which one you choose, fans will support you!" Pace was happy, feeling his help had been worthwhile.
"But it's best to speed up the registration process. It's already June, and the league starts in August. Time is tight," Pace urged. "Also, I checked for you. There are still vacancies in the North West England Second Division. As a new team, you should be able to join."
Levi nodded. A newly formed club must start from the lowest level. Even if the media called this team "New Manchester United," they couldn't change FA rules.
At that moment, Levi realized the team hadn't even selected a head coach yet!
"Oh my God, we've been so busy we forgot this!"
"Well, I have to go to the factory. I'll leave now!" Pace said, noticing Walsh approaching.
As Pace left, Walsh leaned in, looking mysterious. "Levi!"
"Huh?" Levi was still thinking about the head coach.
"Do you know who showed up at the registration office?" Walsh asked excitedly.
"Who, David Beckham?" Levi joked.
"No, Beckham is preparing for the World Cup in France. How could he be here?" Walsh replied.
"Who is it then? Did they sign up?" Levi asked, intrigued.
"Of course!" Walsh confirmed.
"A superstar?" Levi asked.
Walsh nodded.
"From Manchester United?" Levi asked.
Walsh nodded again.
"Who?" Levi was excited.
"Giggs!" Walsh said slowly.
Levi was completely stunned.