Football Dynasty

Manchester City, despite trailing Newcastle United, has emerged as a strong contender for the Premier League title.

The Daily Mail even dedicated a full spread to analyzing City's strengths, emphasizing that the team has developed the traits of true champions.

However, as the media began bombarding City with hype and speculation about their title potential, the team visibly lost focus. Starting from Matchday 34 in March, City's old habits began to resurface.

Draws.

Despite showing impressive stability over the season—losing only three times, away to Manchester United, Leeds United, and Nottingham Forest—City's form started to dip just when it mattered most.

Offensively, they remained a threat. While their total goals scored weren't the highest in the league, their goal difference reflected a team with a well-balanced and efficient attacking approach. But one consistent problem lingered: They often went down 0–1 against weaker sides, only managing to scrape a draw late in the game.

So far, Manchester City had become the second-most drawn team in the league. With 54 goals scored and 34 conceded, they showed both competence and fragility—a team on the brink of greatness, but not quite over the line.

After securing the League Cup, Manchester City displayed a more dominant presence on the pitch, gaining momentum that forced most opponents to adopt a defensive strategy

Starting in April, they faced a punishing schedule with matches every few days, playing more games than Newcastle and Manchester United without much rotation of players.

Oneill complained about the timing, thinking that if the Euro '96 hadn't taken place in England, the Premier League fixtures wouldn't have become so congested at the end of the season.

As Manchester City arrived at Wembley, they were met with a chorus of boos and jeers echoing from the stands. It wasn't unexpected—Wembley was in London, after all.

Chelsea, meanwhile, remained the unremarkable side they had been all season. Their championship dreams were long gone, and hopes of European qualification had vanished months ago. With enough points secured to avoid relegation—four rounds before the season's end—they were simply coasting toward the finish line.

But for today's match, Chelsea's outspoken owner, Ken Bates, had issued strict instructions:Take down Manchester City at all costs.

Not that Bates truly expected his team to win—he was well aware of City's undeniable strength. But if Chelsea could somehow land a heavy blow to their title ambitions, it would all be worth it.

Just one defeat here, on this grand stage, could shake City's momentum. And that, for Ken Bates, was victory enough.

Despite the difference in team strength, the match quickly turned heated due to a variety of factors. Commentators Martin Tyler and Andy Gray frequently checked in on the scores from other matches—particularly the crucial clash between Manchester United and Newcastle United.

Chelsea approached the game with a defensive, counter-attacking strategy, knowing full well that if they couldn't steal a goal in the first two halves, at the very least, they could try to drag City into a penalty shootout.

O'Neill ignored the jeers from the crowd behind him. He wasn't in a celebratory mood. His players had entered the match with the ferocity of tigers, determined to overwhelm their opponents from the start.

During the pre-game preparations, O'Neill's words had seemed to fall on deaf ears. It wasn't that the players had intentionally ignored him—but once they stepped onto the pitch, the lure of the FA Cup trophy took over. They were no longer cautious—they were consumed with desire to win, ready to leave everything on the field.

The atmosphere was electric. City executed their trademark quick-passing game with precision, forcing Chelsea to either defend with all they had—or resort to tactical fouls.

Notably absent from the Chelsea starting lineup was Ruud Gullit. The legendary Dutchman's fitness and once-dominant presence were no longer suited for the intensity of this kind of contest.

Instead, the spirit of Chelsea that day came from a different source: Dennis Wise, a homegrown player who had become the team's true emotional leader.

The "bad boy" of the day had arrived.

Why that nickname?

His actions spoke for themselves. Within the first three minutes of the match, Wise kicked Zanetti down with a reckless challenge.

The referee blew his whistle sharply, clearly preparing to reach for a card. But before he could, Wise offered Zanetti a smile, helped him up, and even patted down his jersey in a comically apologetic manner.

The referee, seeing that Zanetti wasn't seriously hurt, chose to let Wise off with just a warning.

Watching from the sidelines, Richard in the VIP box could only shake his head in silent frustration.

The young Zanetti was simply too much of a good sport—too professional, in short.

When a player fouled him, Zanetti would get up as quickly as possible, wasting no time on the ground.

Richard hadn't expected any theatrics from him—but the downside of having such a professional player was that referees often wouldn't step in to protect him. They assumed everything was fine because he never made a scene.

This played right into Dennis Wise's hands.

Wise had a talent for appearing innocent after committing a foul. Unlike players like Roy Keane or Vinnie Jones, who would barrel through challenges without apology, Wise would immediately strike a pose of regret—sometimes even offering a handshake and a smile after roughing someone up.

Ironically, Wise was also a relatively short player, not particularly imposing in stature, which made his aggressive fouls appear less harmful than they actually were.

But if you understood his background, his behavior made perfect sense.

He was a product of Wimbledon.

After Wise brought Zanetti down for the third time, O'Neill had seen enough. He kicked a water bottle in frustration along the sideline and shouted at the fourth official:

"Are you seriously going to wait until one of my players breaks a leg before you act?"

Finally, the referee had had enough and showed Wise a yellow card. Wise, of course, feigned innocence, shaking his head vigorously and protesting the decision.

"Look at him!" he argued, pointing to Zanetti. "He's still running and jumping—his speed hasn't even dropped! My foul might've looked aggressive, but it didn't actually hurt him!"

The referee wasn't buying it and ignored the protests. The match carried on.

By halftime, Chelsea had accumulated five yellow cards but had still managed to keep the score level, heading into the locker rooms with their strategy intact.

During the halftime break, O'Neill noticed a heavy atmosphere in the changing room.

Everyone wanted the championship—and they all knew they had to win every match to get there. The pressure weighed on them, creating a palpable tension in the air.

He didn't focus on tactics. Instead, he asked the physiotherapists to help the players relax their muscles. What he really wanted to shout was: "Stay calm!"

But he knew it wouldn't matter. At this point, his players were consumed by the desire for victory. All they could think about was the trophy.

That laser focus was throwing their formation out of balance. If Chelsea had been a stronger side, City would have been easily picked apart on the counter.

The physiotherapists under Dave Fevre helped Zanetti remove his socks and shin guards, revealing swelling and visible bruising on his right leg.

O'Neill approached with furrowed brows, concern written across his face.

The Argentine took a sip of water and said confidently, "Boss, I'm fine."

O'Neill looked around and asked the group, "How's everyone feeling physically?"

Their sweat-soaked, exhausted faces told the real story. But with determined expressions, they all replied, "We're good."

O'Neill knew they were lying—but pressing the issue would only create tension. Forcing substitutions now could spark disagreements.

When the players returned to the field for the second half, O'Neill sat down. Robertson leaned over, worry in his voice.

"I feel like the team is losing control. Look at Neil—he just charged right through midfield the moment he came on. They're so desperate to score, they're just throwing bodies forward."

O'Neill shook his head but didn't respond.

This wasn't the same team from last season's Championship campaign, when he had to constantly remind them of basic tactics.

Now, their tactical understanding had matured. Their growing confidence allowed them to play more freely and independently.

It was like a character from a martial arts novel—someone once unremarkable who suddenly masters a legendary skill and believes they can now conquer the world.

This was a necessary phase.

They had grown wings and believed they could soar. But they had yet to learn that a mature team doesn't just need talented players—it needs strong leadership.

At this delicate stage, O'Neill feared conflict. Ferdinand was already enough of a handful. The last thing he needed was more division. So, he stayed silent and let those players, high on self-belief, do as they pleased.

Reasoning with them would get him nowhere.

Then, in the 53rd minute, Dennis Wise received a second yellow card for yet another foul and was sent off. Hoddle, on the Chelsea sidelines, protested furiously to the fourth official. O'Neill remained stone-faced.

City now had a man advantage.

Unexpectedly, though, Fabrizio Ravanelli suddenly turned into prime Messi, and Richard felt a flicker of despair.

It was utter chaos.

Yes, City still dominated possession, but their composure had vanished. They crossed aimlessly from the wings, fired off desperate shots, and overloaded the box with attackers. Zanetti, Capdevila, Lennon, Finnan, Pirlo, and Van Bommel were all pushing deep into Chelsea's half, leaving only Gallas to guard the backline.

The goal came from a scramble—a mess of bodies, a deflection, and a loose ball.

Gallas struck from outside the box. The ball ricocheted off a leg and fell to Ravanelli, who pounced and poked it into City's net.

It wasn't beautiful. It wasn't skillful. But it counted.

With that ugly, chaotic goal, Chelsea snatched the win amid the madness.

Afterwards, City's performance collapsed entirely. They had no balance between attack and defense. Their forward play looked threatening, but none of it translated into goals.

Richard wanted to unleash his fury—he wanted to scold them for their recklessness and lack of composure.

But he held back.

If these players couldn't stay calm on the biggest stage, how could he entrust the future of the club to them?