SKY SPORTS LIVE — PREMIER LEAGUE MATCHDAY 5
Manchester United vs. Crystal PalaceOld Trafford — Saturday Afternoon
Gary Neville:"Good afternoon from a cool, drizzly Old Trafford. The Champions League hangover is always a dangerous thing, and Elias Thorne has heavily rotated his squad today. No Kwame Aboagye. No Casemiro. No Lisandro Martínez. He's deploying a very fluid, high-risk system against a Crystal Palace side that absolutely loves to counter-attack."
Jamie Carragher:"It's a massive test of squad depth, Gary. We know United have the quality, but Palace have this strange, psychological hold over Old Trafford in recent years. It's the jinx fixture. And with the high line Thorne is playing today, Brennan Johnson will be licking his lips."
1' — KICKOFF
FWEET!
"And away we go at Old Trafford!" the commentator's voice boomed across millions of televisions.
"Elias Thorne's rotated Total Football side against Oliver Glasner's razor-sharp Palace machine."
The Stretford End was deafening from the very first second, fueled by a four-game winning streak.
"UNITED! UNITED! UNITED!"
Down on the pitch, Manchester United immediately morphed. It wasn't the rigid, suffocating 4-3-3 they had used against Sporting CP. It was fluid, chaotic, and aggressively ambitious.
Diogo Dalot tucked entirely inside, operating as a second defensive midfielder alongside Kieran Cross. Tyrell Malacia bombed so high up the left touchline he was essentially a winger. This allowed Leo Castledine to drift entirely into the center, playing as a shadow striker off Rasmus Højlund, while Bruno Fernandes floated everywhere, searching for pockets of space.
Up in the VIP Box, Kwame Aboagye leaned forward against the glass, his eyes narrowing as he processed the geometry.
"They're playing a 2-3-5 in possession," Kwame muttered, taking a sip of sparkling water. "It's beautiful, but it leaves Maguire and Yoro completely isolated if we lose the ball."
Maya, sitting next to him in her oversized United jacket, chewed on her thumbnail. "Are you worried, Sturdy?"
"No," Kwame said, though his eyes never left the pitch. "As long as Kobbie keeps the ball."
4'
Down on the pitch, Palace tried to spring the trap.
Kieran Cross zipped a slightly under-hit pass toward Kobbie Mainoo in the center circle. Cheick Doucouré, Palace's physical enforcer, instantly bit on the trigger, sprinting out of the midfield line to smash the young English midfielder from behind.
But Mainoo didn't panic. He didn't even look back.
With a drop of the shoulder so smooth it looked like velvet, Mainoo let the ball roll across his body, pivoting on his right foot. Doucouré went flying past him, grasping at empty air.
Old Trafford collectively gasped, then broke into rapturous applause.
"OLEEEE!"
Adam Wharton, Palace's young midfield orchestrator, pointed furiously at Daniel Muñoz on the right wing. "Track Dalot! Track him! They're overloading the middle!"
8'
The fluid system created an immediate overload.
Bruno found Amad Diallo wide on the right. Amad slipped a gorgeous, reverse through-ball that completely bypassed the Palace back three.
Leo Castledine latched onto it. The Brazilian burst into the penalty area, dropping his shoulder to entirely round Dean Henderson, the Palace goalkeeper. The net was gaping.
Leo pulled the trigger with his left foot.
CLANG.
The ball smashed violently against the near post and bounced out to safety.
The entire stadium performed the classic, agonizing, "OHHHHHHHH!"
Bruno Fernandes threw both of his arms into the air in pure disbelief. "HOW?!" he screamed across the pitch.
On the Palace bench, Oliver Glasner didn't look worried. He calmly clapped his hands. "Good," the Austrian manager shouted to his players. "They're overcommitting. The space is behind them! Be ready!"
11'
Glasner's trap snapped shut three minutes later.
United lost the ball high up the pitch when a flick from Castledine was intercepted by Chadi Riad. Palace didn't hesitate. They didn't try to build up slowly.
Wharton fired a laser-guided, one-touch pass into the massive expanse of green grass behind Tyrell Malacia.
Daniel Muñoz, the Palace right-wingback, exploded into the space like an Olympic sprinter. He drove down the flank entirely unopposed.
In the center, the chemistry issues of the rotated United squad were violently exposed. Kieran Cross stepped up to try and cut off the passing lane, but Harry Maguire dropped back to protect the penalty spot.
A massive, ten-yard chasm opened up between them.
Muñoz saw it. He whipped a devastating, low cross straight into that exact pocket of space. Jean-Philippe Mateta arrived perfectly, finishing first-time past a helpless Andre Onana.
The away end behind the goal absolutely erupted.
"EAGLES! EAGLES! EAGLES!"
The home fans instantly groaned. The tactical disjointedness was glaringly obvious.
Harry Maguire threw his arms out, pointing furiously at Cross and Dalot. "One of you stays!" Maguire roared, his face red. "You can't both push up! Read the line!"
Up in the VIP box, Kwame sighed, resting his forehead against the cool glass.
"Cross stepped up to press, Maguire dropped to cover," Kwame explained quietly to Afia, who was already frowning at the pitch. "The link broke. You can't play Total Football if the center-backs and the pivot aren't sharing the exact same brain."
SOCIAL MEDIA
@General_AllDay:Thorne is overthinking it! Why are we playing 1970s Ajax football against a team that literally only wants to counter-attack?! Bring the Icebox down from the stands immediately! 😭
@Bandana (Ghana):Ah! Kieran Cross is selling my ticket! A 10-odds accumulator is resting on Manchester United and they are playing nonsense! Elias Thorne, what is this lineup?! 🇬🇭🤬
@CPFC_Ultra:Death, taxes, and Palace turning up at Old Trafford like prime Barcelona. Mateta is inevitable. 🦅⚽
⏱️ 16'–30'
Gary Neville (Commentary):"United are playing some absolutely gorgeous football in the final third, Jamie, but every time Palace win the ball, the counter-attack feels terrifyingly dangerous."
United laid siege to the Palace box.
19': Mainoo slipped a beautiful ball through to Rasmus Højlund. The big Dane found himself 1v1, but Dean Henderson rushed out, spreading his body to make a massive, point-blank save.
Højlund slapped the wet turf in frustration. "Come on!" he roared.
Henderson popped up, screaming at his back three. "WAKE UP! WIN THE SECOND BALLS! THEY ARE WALKING THROUGH US!"
The Stretford End sensed the rising pressure. The drumbeat started, rolling through the stadium like thunder.
"ATTACK! ATTACK! ATTACK ATTACK ATTACK!"
⏱️ 28'
The relentless pressure finally shattered the Palace block.
It was the fluid system working at its absolute peak. Amad Diallo pinned his man wide on the right. Instead of overlapping, Diogo Dalot executed a ferocious, blistering underlap, driving straight into the Palace penalty box.
Amad slipped the ball perfectly into Dalot's stride.
Dalot didn't shoot. He cut the ball square across the face of the six-yard box.
Rasmus Højlund arrived like a freight train, bullying Chadi Riad out of the way and burying the ball into the roof of the net.
Absolute bedlam.
Fans leaped out of their seats. The roar was deafening. "
RASMUS! RASMUS! RASMUS!"
Bruno Fernandes sprinted over, pointing aggressively at Dalot. "That's it! Keep moving them! They don't know who to track!"
Down on the touchline, Elias Thorne didn't smile. He applauded intensely, shouting at his midfield. "Same rhythm! Keep the structure! Don't force the passes!"
31'–45'
But as the half wore on, the strange, suffocating anxiety of the 'Palace Jinx' began to settle over Old Trafford.
35': Bruno Fernandes received the ball on the edge of the box. He spotted Henderson slightly off his line and executed a disgustingly beautiful, delicate chip.
The ball floated over the keeper.
SMASH.
It hit the crossbar and bounced out.
The sound in the stadium wasn't a groan; it was pure disbelief. Even the traveling Palace fans in the corner laughed nervously.
Down near the dugout, a frustrated United fan leaned over the railing and shouted, "It's going to be one of those days! I can feel it!"
42'
Leo Castledine drove into the box with his lightning-fast step-overs. He knocked the ball past Chris Richards and went tumbling to the turf under a heavy challenge.
FWEET!
The referee pointed to the penalty spot. Old Trafford erupted in joy. Bruno grabbed the ball.
But then, the dreaded finger went to the ear piece. VAR Check.
Two agonizing minutes later, the referee jogged to the monitor, came back, and signaled a reversal. No penalty. He booked Castledine for simulation.
The emotional fallout was immediate.
Bruno sarcastically clapped his hands right in the referee's face. Kobbie Mainoo had to physically grab his captain and pull him away before he got booked.
Harry Maguire was screaming at the fourth official on the touchline.
Several Palace players, including Kamada and Mateta, openly smirked at the United frustration.
Jamie Carragher (Commentary):"The jinx factor is becoming psychological now. United feel aggrieved, they feel unlucky, and they are letting their emotions override their tactical discipline."
FWEET FWEET!
The halftime whistle blew. There were no boos from the Stretford End, but there was a heavy, anxious murmuring.
Everyone in the stadium knew United were the better team, but they felt terrifyingly vulnerable.
HALFTIME
THE VIP BOX
Afia set her tablet down on the glass table, crossing her arms.
"They have eighty percent possession, but Palace have had four shots on target to our three," Afia noted clinically. "The system is broken."
Maya slumped back into the plush leather sofa. "Why is it always Palace? We can beat Chelsea and Sporting Lisbon, but we can't beat Crystal Palace. It doesn't make any sense."
"It makes perfect sense," Kwame said, walking over and grabbing a slice of fruit from the hospitality spread.
Chloe looked at him. "Enlighten us, Sturdy."
"Palace don't care about the ball," Kwame explained, tapping his temple. "They are happy to sit in a 5-4-1 block and let us pass it around them all day.
Gaffer's system today requires the center-backs to play a high line to keep the pressure on. But Cross and Maguire aren't communicating. Cross is jumping to press, Maguire is dropping to cover Johnson's pace. It leaves a massive gap."
Kwame looked back out at the empty, rain-slicked pitch.
"If we don't fix the spacing, they will score again."
46'–60'
51'
Kwame's tactical prophecy became a brutal reality exactly six minutes into the second half.
United were camped around the Palace box. Mainoo had the ball, looking for an angle. He shifted his hips, looking to play a reverse pass to Dalot.
Kieran Cross misread Mainoo's body language entirely. The veteran midfielder stepped forward, expecting a short layoff.
Mainoo played the reverse pass. Cross wasn't there.
Cheick Doucouré pounced on the loose ball like a starving predator. Palace transitioned with terrifying, lethal efficiency.
Doucouré bypassed the entire United midfield with one pass. Brennan Johnson isolated Harry Maguire, bursting past the English defender with raw pace, and rifled a brilliant shot into the top corner.
A stunned, horrified silence fell over Old Trafford.
Then came the scattered, furious groans. "For heaven's sake..."
Andre Onana kicked the post, screaming at his midfield.
"TOO EASY! IT IS TOO EASY!"
Kieran Cross just stood in the center circle, staring at the wet grass, visibly frustrated with himself.
SOCIAL MEDIA
@UnitedStrandGuy (Live Stream):(Holding the clippers, his voice trembling)"Lads... I might have made a massive mistake. I might have angered the ancestors. WHY DID I BRING THE CLIPPERS OUT BEFORE THE 90TH MINUTE?! WE ARE CURSED!"
55'
Elias Thorne didn't wait. He didn't hesitate. He killed the 'Total Football' experiment immediately.
OFF: Kieran Cross, Leo Castledine.ON: Mason Mount, Alejandro Garnacho.
The stadium let out a massive, desperate roar of hope as Garnacho sprinted onto the pitch.
"ALE! ALE! ALE!"
The energy spiked instantly. Mount began flying around the pitch, executing a one-man pressing machine, while Garnacho injected pure, chaotic directness onto the left wing.
But Palace leaned heavily into gamesmanship.
At every throw-in, Tyrick Mitchell took thirty seconds to wipe the ball with a towel. Dean Henderson slowed down every single goal kick.
Jefferson Lerma was warming up on the touchline, openly grinning at the frustrated United fans behind the dugout.
The away fans were having the time of their lives, chanting loudly into the Manchester sky.
"Same old United, always jinxed! Same old United, always jinxed!"
61'–75'
Gary Neville (Commentary):"This is no longer a football match. This is attack versus resistance. United are throwing the kitchen sink at them."
67': Garnacho hit the byline, dropping his shoulder and flashing a wicked, low cross across the face of the goal. Højlund threw himself at it, missing the tap-in by absolute inches.
The Danish striker grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his face in total disbelief.
Bruno ran past, clapping his hands. "Next one! Next one, Rasmus!"
Palace's defense was in full warrior mode. Maxence Lacroix, the Palace center-back, was throwing his body in front of everything.
He blocked a shot from Amad, popped up, fist-pumped aggressively, and chest-bumped Chris Richards, screaming in celebration after every clearance.
72'
Elias Thorne played his final cards.
OFF: Amad Diallo, Tyrell Malacia.ON: Marcus Rashford, Benjamin Šeško.
Old Trafford rose to its feet. This was it. The kitchen sink. The nuclear option.
"MARCUS! MARCUS! MARCUS!" the crowd chanted, desperate for their homegrown hero to save them.
Oliver Glasner immediately stood up on the touchline, frantically signaling his team to drop into a deeper block.
Palace moved to a rigid 5-5-0 formation. They were going to park the bus and weld the brakes.
76'–84'
81': Rashford burned Muñoz on the outside, using his fresh legs to terrorize the tired full-back.
Rashford hit a low, driven cross. It beat Henderson, but Lacroix was there on the goal line to hack it desperately clear.
The entire United bench jumped up, thinking it was in.
84'
Thorne's tactical shift from 'fluid football' to 'aerial chaos' paid off.
Diogo Dalot, now playing as a traditional full-back, whipped a massive, towering cross into the penalty box.
Benjamin Šeško, the 6-foot-5 Slovenian titan, had pinned Lacroix perfectly. Šeško didn't even have to jump that high. He just used his massive frame to dominate the airspace, powering an unstoppable, thumping header past Dean Henderson.
The noise was thunderous. Absolute, unadulterated chaos.
Down on the touchline, Mason Mount sprinted down the sideline to celebrate with the corner flag. Casemiro, wearing a substitute's bib, violently punched the air. Matthijs de Ligt shoved Šeško playfully in celebration as the team jogged back to the center circle.
Dean Henderson was furious, screaming at his defenders.
"SOMEONE MARK HIM! HE'S SIX FOOT FIVE!"
Adam Wharton gathered the Palace midfield, clapping his hands.
"Focus! One point first! Don't let them breathe!"
85'–90+5'
Jamie Carragher (Commentary):"You feel there's one final twist in this tale, Gary. Old Trafford is absolutely rocking now."
The crowd sensed the blood in the water. The noise was a physical wall of sound pushing the team forward.
"UNITED! UNITED! UNITED!"
90+2'
United lumped the ball forward again. Šeško engaged in another massive aerial duel with Richards. The ball dropped loose, spinning wildly on the wet turf just inside the penalty area.
Marcus Rashford reacted first. He sprinted toward the loose ball, poking it away just as Chadi Riad lunged in for a desperate tackle.
Riad's boot caught Rashford's trailing leg. Rashford went down.
FWEET!
The referee didn't hesitate. He pointed straight to the penalty spot.
Total chaos erupted.
The entire Crystal Palace team surrounded the referee, screaming in his face.
Dean Henderson sprinted out of his goal, waving his arms in imaginary "diving" gestures toward the Stretford End.
But Marcus Rashford completely ignored the madness.
He calmly walked over, picked the ball out of the mud, and walked straight to the penalty spot. He placed the ball down, his face a mask of absolute, terrifying focus.
Bruno Fernandes walked up beside him. As the captain, it was technically Bruno's penalty. But Bruno looked at Rashford, put a hand over his mouth to block the cameras, and whispered in his ear.
"Your moment. End the jinx."
Bruno backed away, standing on the edge of the box, his arms crossed.
The referee finally cleared the arguing Palace players away. He blew his whistle.
The Stretford End, usually a wall of noise, became almost entirely silent. Seventy-four thousand people took a tense, collective, agonizing inhale.
90+4'
Jamie Carragher (Commentary):"Rashford... to win it at the death..."
Rashford took three steps back. He took a deep breath.
He ran up. A slight stutter-step.
Dean Henderson guessed right. Rashford went left.
He stroked the ball perfectly, low and hard into the bottom corner. The net rippled.
GOAL.
Pure, unadulterated eruption.
The stadium detonated. It was a shockwave of relief, ecstasy, and pure adrenaline.
Scarves were thrown high into the air. Fans were hugging complete strangers in the aisles. Half-full pints of beer went flying into the Manchester sky, raining down on the lower tiers.
Rashford sprinted directly toward the Stretford End, his arms spread wide, sliding on his knees across the wet grass. The entire team swarmed him, burying him in a pile of red shirts.
The chant rolled instantly through the stadium, deafening and proud.
"MARCUS RASHFORD, HE'S ONE OF OUR OWN!"
The Palace emotional crash was immediate. Dean Henderson violently kicked the post. Maxence Lacroix sank to his knees, staring at the turf in disbelief. Oliver Glasner folded his arms on the touchline, absolutely furious at the late lapse in discipline. Muñoz shook his head at Riad.
Manchester United 3–2 Crystal Palace
FWEET! FWEET! FWEEEEET!
The final whistle blew.
The moment the whistle sounded, the raw, unfiltered emotions of ninety-five minutes of grueling, psychologically draining football spilled out onto the pitch.
Marcus Rashford, still covered in mud from his penalty-winning hustle, sank to his knees. He looked up at the roaring Stretford End, closed his eyes, and pointed a single, definitive finger to the United badge on his chest.
"We did it for the badge," Rashford muttered to himself, his chest heaving. "For the fans, for us."
Not far away, Rasmus Højlund spotted Benjamin Šeško near the center circle. The two massive strikers sprinted toward each other, pulling themselves into a fierce, celebratory hug that looked more like a wrestling match.
"We're unstoppable together, big man!" Šeško laughed, ruffling the Dane's wet hair.
"Next time, I want the header!" Højlund joked, flexing a bicep as the adrenaline surged through them.
The contrast on the other side of the pitch was devastating. Crystal Palace had held the psychological edge for so long, and it had shattered at the absolute death.
Dean Henderson was pounding his gloves against the goalpost in sheer agony. Maxence Lacroix remained on his knees, his forehead pressed against the wet turf in utter disbelief. Jean-Philippe Mateta just stood with his hands on his hips, slowly shaking his head.
Oliver Glasner, the Palace manager, paced furiously near the dugout, arms folded tight across his chest. "One mistake," he was heard muttering to his assistant. "That's all it took. Discipline lost at the absolute death!"
Up in the VIP box, Kwame Aboagye let out a long, heavy exhale, running a hand over his freshly cut hair. He looked down at the chaotic, beautiful mess on the pitch.
"I'm going down there," Kwame said, adjusting his pristine club suit jacket. He flashed a smile at Afia, Maya, and Chloe, who were still hugging and screaming. "They earned this."
Kwame navigated his way through the concourses, slipping past euphoric fans who were already chanting songs about the manager and the jinx being broken. By the time he reached the tunnel and pushed through the heavy oak doors of the home dressing room, the party was already in full swing.
The United sanctuary was a scene of absolute, unrestrained jubilation. Rain-soaked kits were dripping everywhere, leaving puddles of sweat and mud on the polished floor. The room smelled powerfully of adrenaline, spilled energy drinks, and victory.
Marcus Rashford was standing in the center of the room, a massive grin on his face, still clutching the match ball.
"That's ours!" Rashford shouted, violently throwing the ball against the lockers before catching it on the rebound. The teammates surrounding him cheered, jumping on his back in a massive group hug.
Bruno Fernandes, standing near his locker, was calmly clapping at each corner of the room, offering sharp, tactical nods of approval. "We switched gears perfectly, lads! We didn't panic! Everyone kept their head when it mattered most!"
In the corner, Mason Mount and Alejandro Garnacho were high-fiving and spinning in circles.
"That's Total Football… on paper!" Mount yelled over the blasting reggaeton music.
"But chaos wins matches too, hermano!" Garnacho laughed, dumping half a water bottle over Mount's head.
On the far bench, Andre Onana sat with a towel draped completely over his head, rocking slightly. "Never letting that Mateta goal in again," the Cameroonian keeper was muttering to himself, still furious at the 1-0 deficit despite the win. "Never again."
"Did you see Henderson's face after Rashford went down?" Šeško cackled from across the room, unlacing his massive boots.
"I've never seen a VAR call ruin my heartbeat like that," Højlund added, throwing a damp sock at Dalot. "I thought my chest was going to explode."
"Jinx? Dead. Totally dead," Bruno declared, walking over to the fridge.
"Pour me a pint of electrolytes!"
The heavy door swung open, and Kwame stepped inside.
The room erupted again.
"Icebox!" Dalot yelled, pointing at the teenager in his sharp suit.
Kwame smiled broadly, walking around the room, offering high-fives and hugs. He reached Kobbie Mainoo and Kieran Cross, who were slumped against the wall, utterly exhausted.
"You boys survived the mud," Kwame said respectfully, bumping fists with both of them.
Cross offered a tired but immensely satisfied grin. "We created chances, General. We controlled the possession. We just needed the finishing touch. Good to see you resting that leg, though. We'll need it."
Thorne's Press Conference
Deep in the media room, the flashing cameras illuminated Elias Thorne's face. The manager looked as calm and intense as ever, showing zero signs of the emotional rollercoaster he had just endured.
A reporter in the front row raised a microphone. "Elias, was the 'jinx' factor really a concern for the squad today, going into the match?"
"It's always there, psychologically," Thorne answered, his voice steady and clinical. "You cannot erase history from the fans' minds. But we trust the players. Football is about adapting. Today, the plan changed mid-game. We played fluid football, we met a brick wall, and then we transitioned to aerial chaos. And the players executed brilliantly."
Another reporter chimed in. "Rashford taking the winning penalty—why him? Did you instruct Bruno to step aside?"
"No," Thorne replied smoothly. "Because Marcus is composed, and he believes. Simple as that. Leadership isn't always wearing the armband. Sometimes, it's taking the ball when the stadium is holding its breath."
"Does this late, chaotic victory change your approach for the rest of the season?" a third journalist asked.
Thorne smiled, a very faint, almost imperceptible curving of his lips. "Every match teaches you something. Today, it was patience, flexibility, and belief. That's exactly what we'll carry forward."
In the back of the room, Assistant Manager Mark quietly high-fived the club's press officer. They both knew a legendary, season-defining narrative was forming right in front of their eyes.
Fan Mania Outside Old Trafford
Outside the stadium, the streets and pubs of Manchester were gridlocked.
Fireworks popped in the damp evening air. On TikTok and Instagram Reels, live feeds showed fans literally climbing lampposts, waving red scarves like flags of conquest, singing Rashford's name into the night sky.
In a massive, overflowing crowd near the Sir Matt Busby statue,
@UnitedStrandGuy was standing on top of a heavy-duty trash can. He was holding his phone in one hand and the cordless hair clippers in the other.
"THE CURSE IS DEAD!" he screamed into the camera, his voice completely hoarse, tears of joy streaming down his face. "UNITED WILL WIN THE LEAGUE! FIVE OUT OF FIVE! FIVE OUT OF FIVE!"
The crowd around him surged, chanting at the top of their lungs.
"MARCUS RASHFORD, HE'S ONE OF OUR OWN!""
THORNE, THORNE, MASTER OF THE GAME!"
"EAGLES CAN'T FLY HERE!"
Inside the local pubs, pints of beer were flying through the air, completely soaking the floors as fans continuously replayed the penalty footage on the big screens. It was total chaos, but it was purely joyful.
Social Media
As the night wore on, the digital world cemented the narrative.
@General_AllDay:RASHFORD! Rashford! Rashford! The jinx is gone! The streak continues! 🔴🔥
@Bandana(Ghana):Accumulator survived. THORNE = LEGEND 🇬🇭💰
@NeutralScout:Season-defining win today. Tactical pivot at its absolute finest. Manchester United simply refuse to lose right now. Five wins in a row.
@CPFC_Ultra:We can't believe it… Højlund & Šeško's headers changed everything. Hate to admit it, but respect. You broke the curse.
Memes flooded the timelines—split-screens of Dean Henderson diving too early alongside Rashford calmly slotting the penalty, interspersed with GIFs of Benjamin Šeško dominating the airspace like a skyscraper.
The implications for the season were massive. Manchester United now sat on five consecutive wins. Morale within the dressing room was at an all-time high, the psychological barrier of the Crystal Palace fixture had been shattered into a million pieces, and their confidence was surging.
For Palace, it was heartbreak. A lesson in defensive focus, punished mercilessly by late adaptability.
The media narrative was locked in:
The jinx is dead. Thorne adapts. Rashford leads. United are unstoppable.
And standing in the dressing room, surrounded by his celebrating brothers, Kwame Aboagye knew that the momentum they had just forged would be the exact armor they needed for the Champions League battles to come.