Petr Čech would not turn twenty-two until May 20, yet he was already being hailed as the outstanding goalkeeper of the Premier League season. New Manchester United had conceded only eighteen league goals, the best defensive record in the division, and Čech had been central to that achievement. At the other end stood Alan Shearer, still one of England's most dangerous strikers at thirty-two. He had already scored twenty-two league goals for Newcastle that season, not enough to lead the scoring charts but more than enough to remind everyone why he remained the symbol of the club.
Now the two men faced each other at St James' Park, each watching the slightest movement of the other.
The referee stood a short distance away and blew his whistle. Shearer took several steps back without taking his eyes off Čech, looking for some clue as to which way the Czech goalkeeper intended to move.
Before the penalty, Almunia had passed on the coaching staff's notes. Shearer's penalties were struck with enormous power and travelled quickly enough that a goalkeeper often had to commit early. He favoured the goalkeeper's left slightly more often, although he was perfectly capable of going the other way.
Čech said nothing. Rather than trying to read every detail of Shearer's run-up, he decided to trust his instinct.
Left.
Shearer struck the ball with tremendous force.
Čech moved immediately and saw the shot racing towards the same side. He extended his arms as far as he could and managed to get enough of a hand to it, pushing the ball behind for a corner.
The save transformed him instantly. Čech sprang back to his feet and roared towards Shearer and the Newcastle players, all the tension of the previous few minutes exploding out of him. Shearer closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the sky, clearly unable to believe he had missed such an important chance.
The travelling supporters responded with Čech's song, their voices ringing around St James' Park in praise of the goalkeeper who had once again rescued New Manchester United.
Curtis immediately called his teammates together. They formed another tight huddle around Čech, shouted something that could not be heard beyond the circle, and then broke apart. Whatever had been said, the effect was obvious. Despite being reduced to ten men, New Manchester United returned to play with even greater intensity than before.
Mourinho made his final attacking gamble. De Rossi, exhausted after another immense performance, came off for Ishmael Miller. Curtis stepped higher into midfield when New Manchester United had possession, effectively becoming a holding midfielder. His pace, acceleration, mobility, and sound passing meant the team did not completely lose its balance despite sacrificing a central midfielder for another striker.
Ishmael's introduction immediately gave the attack another dimension. Messi continued delivering dangerous balls from the right, while Ishmael attacked the penalty area with the instincts of a player who had spent years alongside him in the academy. Their understanding was almost automatic.
Newcastle were visibly unsettled by the momentum but continued defending stubbornly, breaking up attacks in dangerous positions and throwing bodies in front of anything that reached the box. New Manchester United refused to ease off. They attacked down the left, down the right, and through the centre with almost reckless determination. Even Curtis repeatedly appeared near Newcastle's penalty area. At that stage, every player had the same thought: somehow, they had to score.
Newcastle eventually abandoned any thought of counter-attacking. All eleven players dropped around their own penalty area, concentrating entirely on protecting the point that seemed within reach.
The away supporters never stopped singing. They had followed this club from the lower reaches of English football all the way to the Premier League, through promotion after promotion, and now they were watching it fight for the title. They wanted recognition, they wanted silverware, and they wanted the rest of the country to understand that New Manchester United had arrived.
A few thousand travelling supporters somehow managed to make themselves heard over the home crowd.
Evra cramped after another long sprint. The medical staff treated him quickly and sent him straight back on. Maicon chased a pass beyond the byline and crashed into the advertising boards, but immediately bounced up, recovered the ball before Newcastle could react, and found Messi.
Messi kept attacking his defender, taking challenge after challenge. At one point an elbow caught him across the cheek, but he stayed on his feet and continued trying to force the ball into the area. Cristiano Ronaldo had abandoned most of his usual tricks and was simply driving towards goal whenever he saw space. Twice he was knocked to the ground by heavy tackles, and once a shin pad came loose, but he barely stopped to adjust it before throwing himself back into the match.
Villa, Ribéry, and Ishmael kept charging into the box. Newcastle's defenders leaned into them, blocked them, pulled at them, and fought for every ball. Ishmael nearly collided head-first with the post while trying to reach one cross.
The players were exhausting themselves, while Mourinho, his staff, and the travelling supporters kept urging them forward.
The fourth official raised the board.
Three minutes of added time.
Few of the New Manchester United players seemed to notice. As far as they were concerned, the match would continue until the referee finally ended it.
In the 92nd minute, Messi received the ball near the right edge of the penalty area and tried to slip inside. Newcastle's left-back stepped across and brought him down just before he could enter the box.
Free kick.
It was an excellent position.
"Beckham would love this," Andy Gray said. "This is exactly the sort of range where he'd fancy himself, but of course he's no longer on the pitch."
Martin Tyler considered the alternatives. Ishmael had taken free kicks for the academy, but his technique relied more on power than finesse. Ribéry and Cristiano Ronaldo had both practised them as well, although neither was yet a specialist.
The players gathered briefly around the ball. Eventually Ribéry and Messi remained over it while Newcastle organised the wall.
"Messi's worked on free kicks too," Tyler said, "although Michael Johnson is probably the standout among the younger players at Newton Heath."
Johnson's set-piece technique had developed considerably, particularly after working with Beckham. His passing range had improved as well, adding longer diagonals to the short and medium combinations that had always been part of his game. Similar work had been encouraged with Fàbregas and Mikel.
Gray looked at Ribéry. "I'd expect the Frenchman to take this. He's got a very useful free kick on him."
The referee whistled.
Ribéry began his run first.
He shaped to strike and stepped over the ball.
Messi followed.
Left foot.
The shot climbed over the wall with heavy spin. At first it seemed to be travelling too centrally, but once it cleared the jumping defenders, it bent sharply away towards the upper corner.
The Newcastle goalkeeper reacted and launched himself across goal.
He could not reach it.
The ball brushed the underside of the crossbar and flew into the net.
0-1.
St James' Park erupted at one end.
Mourinho lost all restraint and slid across the wet grass on his knees, while the New Manchester United players sprinted towards Messi and swallowed him in a mass of red shirts.
Lionel Messi was sixteen years old.
Again and again that season, Mourinho had introduced him from the bench and watched him change matches. Now, in stoppage time, with New Manchester United down to ten men and their title hopes seconds from disappearing, he had scored the most important goal of his young career.
The image immediately invited comparisons with famous last-gasp title-race moments from English football. If New Manchester United somehow overtook Arsenal on the final day, this free kick would be remembered as the goal that kept the dream alive.
The club anthem rolled through the away end. Thousands of travelling supporters celebrated as though the championship itself had already been won.
Newcastle, by contrast, looked devastated. After defending for so long and then missing a penalty, conceding in stoppage time seemed to drain what little belief remained. With barely two minutes left, their players moved through the restart almost mechanically.
"This is an enormous victory," Tyler said. "Messi's free kick has won it at St James' Park and kept New Manchester United alive in the title race. They leave here with three points, and the gap to Arsenal is down to one."
Everything would now be decided on the final day.
New Manchester United would host Tottenham.
Arsenal would host Birmingham.
If Mourinho's side beat Spurs but Arsenal also won, New Manchester United could finish with ninety-two points and still come second. It would be an extraordinary total for a newly promoted team and, in most previous Premier League seasons, enough to win the championship.
The numbers showed just how exceptional the race had become. Manchester United's twenty-eight wins in 1999-2000 remained the Premier League record for victories in a season. Arsenal had already matched that total and would set a new mark with another win. The record points tally stood at ninety-two, achieved by Manchester United in 1993-94. New Manchester United and Arsenal were both threatening figures that would normally have guaranteed a title.
Whichever club finished second would have every reason to feel unfortunate.
Some observers believed New Manchester United themselves had helped create this version of Arsenal. Their emphatic victory at Highbury had wounded Wenger's side and sharpened their resolve, helping drive the extraordinary second half of Arsenal's campaign. Yet New Manchester United had beaten them twice and still found themselves behind because of the cost of fighting deep into Europe at the same time.
The equation was now simple. New Manchester United could do no more than beat Tottenham and hope Birmingham took something from Highbury.
As Martin Tyler wrote before the final weekend, merely reaching this position had already proved how formidable Mourinho's team had become. Whatever happened, they had produced a season worthy of champions.
Mourinho, however, had no interest in being remembered as an uncrowned king.
After a full week to recover, New Manchester United came out against Tottenham with renewed energy. From the opening minutes they attacked relentlessly, and the front four of Villa, Cristiano Ronaldo, Palacio, and Kaká quickly overwhelmed the visitors. Kaká created the first goal for Villa, and from there the match became a rout.
Villa scored again in the 23rd minute and completed his hat-trick in the 56th. Palacio added two goals of his own, while Kaká and substitute Ishmael also found the net.
7-0.
It was an astonishing final-day performance.
Fàbregas, starting in place of the suspended Beckham, produced his best match since arriving in Manchester. He did not score, but he supplied four assists and created several other chances that his teammates failed to convert.
New Manchester United had done everything they could.
Now all eyes inside Old Trafford turned to the other matches being played at the same time.
One score mattered more than any other.
Arsenal against Birmingham.
(To be continued.)