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***
The pre-match tension was thick as Manchester City prepared for Crystal Palace at the Etihad. Though the Champions League draw against Juventus loomed on everyone's mind, Pellegrini's voice cut through the noise of studs clattering on the concrete floors and the rustling of jerseys in the locker room.
"Forget Juventus for now," Pellegrini began, his hands resting on the tactics board. He wore his signature calm expression, eyes scanning the faces of his players. "We take it one game at a time. That's how we win things. Focus is on Palace. Nothing more."
The players nodded, some still adjusting their shin pads, others slipping on their Nike boots. Adriano was lacing up his signature black-and-gold AR10s, the crown logo gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Hazard leaned over, tapping the side of Adriano's boot. "Think you'll put a few past them today?" he asked with a grin.
Adriano smirked. "Depends on how many assists you give me."
A wave of chuckles rolled through the locker room. Zabaleta slapped Kompany on the shoulder. "He's getting cocky now. We'll have to humble him."
Kompany, stretching his calves near the bench, shot back, "You first, old man."
Pellegrini cleared his throat, bringing attention back to the board. He began outlining the plan with swift, deliberate strokes of the marker. "We're sticking with the 4-2-3-1," he stated. "Joe, between the sticks." Hart nodded from the corner, taping his gloves. "Back four: Zaba, Vinny, Mats, and Kola."
Kolarov adjusted his socks, tightening the tape around his ankles. He looked over at Hummels, who gave him a quick nod of acknowledgment. They'd been growing more in sync with each game, a partnership built on mutual understanding and silent communication.
Pellegrini continued, "In the middle, Silva and De Bruyne. Keep it tight, recycle possession, don't rush it. Palace will sit deep, try to frustrate us, and hit on the counter. Stay disciplined."
Silva gave a thumbs-up, while De Bruyne leaned back against the locker, arms folded, eyes fixed on the board.
"Don't worry," De Bruyne murmured to Silva, "if they sit deep, we'll just pull them out."
"Wingers—Mo, Eden," Pellegrini pointed. "Stretch them wide. Force their full-backs out of position. Give Adriano and Kun room to operate."
Hazard was already bouncing on his toes, full of energy. Salah adjusted his wrist tape, turning to Hazard. "I'll send it low; you send it high?"
"Deal," Hazard replied with a grin.
Pellegrini stepped forward. "Adriano." The room grew quieter, eyes drifting toward him. "You play just behind Kun. Find the spaces. Make their centre-backs uncomfortable. They'll want to double up—don't let them. Keep them guessing."
Adriano nodded, a flicker of intensity flashing in his eyes.
Aguero patted him on the back. "You do your magic, I'll clean up the rest."
"That's the spirit," Adriano replied with a grin.
Pellegrini folded his arms. "Crystal Palace will try to frustrate us, make no mistake. Zaha and Eze are quick; they'll want to hit us on the break. So, Vinny, Mats—no unnecessary risks at the back. Control the tempo, suffocate their midfield, and keep the pressure constant."
Kompany cracked his knuckles. "Let them try. We'll be ready."
The room fell silent as Pellegrini looked around, his eyes meeting each player's gaze with deliberate purpose. "One game at a time, gentlemen. We've done it before. We do it again today. Control the game. Dominate possession. And most of all…" he paused, letting the tension build. "We send a message. Juventus, the league…they all need to know. We are Manchester City."
The room erupted in claps and murmurs of agreement. Aguero slapped Adriano on the back as they headed out of the locker room. "Ready to make some noise?" he asked, eyes gleaming.
Adriano tightened the last lace on his AR10s, looking up with a smirk. "Always."
They filed out of the room, the tunnel awaiting them with its glaring lights and the muffled roar of the Etihad crowd. The players lined up, stretching, bouncing in place, the tension before kickoff bubbling under the surface. Pellegrini walked down the line, clapping each on the shoulder. "Focus," he repeated. "Discipline."
As they stood at the mouth of the tunnel, Adriano caught Salah's eye. "First goal?" he asked, grinning.
Salah laughed. "If you're fast enough."
Adriano chuckled. "Watch me."
The tunnel doors opened, and the roar of the Etihad crashed over them. Flags waved, chants echoed, and the smell of fresh grass and adrenaline filled the air. They walked out onto the pitch, a sea of blue rising in anticipation.
Pellegrini watched from the touchline, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Today wasn't just another game. It was another step forward. And they intended to make it count.
***
From the first whistle, the Etihad buzzed with anticipation. Crystal Palace lined up in a rigid 4-5-1, dropping deep and congesting the midfield. Their intent was clear—frustrate City, break their rhythm, and strike on the counter.
But City, well-drilled and brimming with confidence, were having none of it. Pellegrini's side pushed forward with purpose, their passes sharp and relentless, stretching Palace's lines thin.
On the touchline, Pellegrini stood with arms crossed, nodding approvingly as the ball zipped from Kolarov to Silva, then back to De Bruyne. The Belgian maestro looked up, spotting Hazard's run on the left. With a quick flick of his right boot, the ball sailed forward, perfectly weighted. Hazard, already accelerating, caught it in stride.
"Give it back!" Kolarov shouted as he overlapped. Hazard obliged with a deft touch, sending Kolarov sprinting towards the byline.
The Serbian full-back took one glance up before whipping a low cross into the box. It was perfectly timed. Aguero darted to the near post, stretching to flick it with the outside of his boot. The ball skimmed past the upright by mere inches.
Martin Tyler's voice crackled through the speakers: "You can see the intent from City—quick interchanges, sharp passing. Crystal Palace are already pinned back."
Alan Smith nodded, adding, "It's relentless pressure. If Palace can't get out of their own half, it's only a matter of time."
The Etihad collectively gasped, hands flying to heads in disbelief. "Unlucky!" shouted Silva, clapping his hands. Aguero gave him a thumbs-up, already jogging back into position.
Up in the commentary box, Martin Tyler leaned forward. "They're probing, Alan. You feel like it's just a matter of time."
Alan Smith nodded. "Palace are hanging on. They're not getting out of their own half. It's wave after wave from City."
City's dominance continued, with Silva and De Bruyne orchestrating play from midfield, shifting the ball left and right, looking for that opening. Palace held firm for a while, but their defensive wall began to crack under the constant pressure.
City continued their siege. Kompany and Hummels barely left the halfway line, recycling possession and pinning Palace back. Salah and Hazard exchanged flanks, causing constant headaches for the Palace full-backs. Pellegrini's side kept knocking, and finally, the door cracked open.
The first breakthrough came on the 20th minute.
The move began with Silva, who danced around two Palace midfielders before poking a pass into De Bruyne. The Belgian, with his head already swiveling, spotted Hazard peeling off his marker on the left. One touch—two touches—Hazard was gone, his acceleration blistering as he charged into space.
"Look at Eden go!" shouted Zabaleta from the back, clapping his hands together.
Hazard, eyes up, saw Adriano's movement instantly. He ghosted between Palace's center-backs, timing his run to perfection.
Hazard lofted a cross with pinpoint accuracy, the ball curving into the heart of the box.
Martin Tyler's voice rose with anticipation: "Hazard... a beautiful delivery... Adriano's there—!"
Adriano leapt, muscles coiling as he rose above the defenders. For a split second, time seemed to pause. His eyes locked onto the ball, and with a powerful snap of his neck, he redirected it low and hard into the bottom corner.
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "GOOOOOAAAAALLLL! ADRIANO! MANCHESTER CITY TAKE THE LEAD!"
The Etihad exploded with noise. Fans erupted from their seats, scarves waving, chants bursting through the crisp air. Adriano wheeled away, sprinting towards the corner flag, sliding to his knees with fists clenched. Hazard was the first to reach him, nearly tackling him in celebration.
"Did you see that jump? You think you're Ronaldo now?" Hazard laughed, slapping Adriano's back.
Adriano chuckled, still catching his breath. "I don't need to be Ronaldo when I have you putting it on a plate like that," he replied, patting Hazard on the shoulder.
Aguero joined them, grabbing Adriano's head and ruffling his hair. "You just had to take my goal, huh?" he joked.
"Get in line," Adriano laughed back. "Plenty more coming."
Behind them, Zabaleta jogged over, clapping his hands. "That's how you do it, boys! More of that!" he shouted, rallying the squad.
Alan Smith's voice chimed in over the broadcast. "It's his positioning, Martin. He always seems to be exactly where he needs to be. That wasn't just a header—that was pure instinct."
Martin Tyler added, "And it's his 16th of the season already. He's making a habit of this, Alan."
City's momentum only grew after the goal. They zipped passes around confidently, stretching Palace from side to side, looking for cracks to exploit. Pellegrini, arms folded on the sideline, gave a nod of approval. His team was in control, and Adriano's opener had only solidified their grip on the match.
The City players regrouped near the halfway line, Adriano receiving pats on the back from Silva and De Bruyne. "More of that, yeah?" De Bruyne urged. "They can't handle it."
Adriano nodded, catching his breath. "We keep pushing. Next one comes soon."
Martin Tyler observed, "You can sense City are hungry for more. Palace are going to have to find a way to get out of their half, or this could get ugly."
Alan Smith agreed. "They're playing with confidence, Martin. And when Adriano's on form, you just feel like more goals are coming."
Palace, stung by the early goal, tried to shake off their defensive shell. Pulis barked instructions from the touchline, urging his players to press higher, to take risks. They obliged, pushing forward with more bodies, pressing City's midfield with newfound intensity. But that aggression came with a cost. City, sharp and ruthless, waited for the perfect moment to pounce.
It came in the 34th minute. Silva, floating in the half-space, received the ball under pressure but with the elegance of a conductor, he danced away from two Palace midfielders. Spotting Aguero's darting run, Silva threaded a pass between two defenders, perfectly weighted and timed.
Martin Tyler's voice rose with anticipation: "Silva... with the vision... Aguero's through on goal!"
The Argentine took it in stride, his touch immaculate as he drove into the box. With a quick glance at the keeper's positioning, Aguero unleashed a low, driven shot that nestled into the bottom corner with surgical precision.
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "GOOOOOOAAAALLLLL! SERGIO AGUERO! TWO-NIL TO MANCHESTER CITY!"
The Etihad erupted, fans leaping from their seats as Aguero turned, arms outstretched, before being mobbed by his teammates. Adriano jogged over, giving him a firm slap on the back. "Clinical, man. Absolutely clinical," Adriano said, grinning.
Aguero smirked. "Just like in training, eh? Silva makes it too easy."
Silva arrived, chuckling as he joined the celebration. "I serve them on a plate; you just make me look good," he quipped, earning a laugh from both.
Alan Smith broke in on commentary. "That's the problem with pressing City. One slip, and they tear you apart. It's masterful passing and movement."
Martin Tyler added, "And with finishers like Aguero and Adriano, you only get punished. Palace have been brave, but it's cost them."
The Palace players trudged back to the center circle, shoulders slumped, heads bowed. Their attempt to claw back control had only deepened the deficit.
City, now in full control, continued to dictate the tempo, pinging passes around with confidence. The midfield trio of Silva, De Bruyne, and Fernandinho pulled the strings, moving Palace's defense side to side, waiting for another crack to appear.
That crack came just before halftime.
In the 44th minute, a sloppy Palace pass was intercepted by Silva, who calmly fed it to Salah. The Egyptian burst down the right flank with electrifying pace, jinking past his marker as if he were invisible. His eyes scanned the box—Adriano was lurking, unmarked and ready.
Salah whipped a low, driven cross toward the penalty spot. Adriano, anticipating it perfectly, glided in front of his defender, stretching out his right boot to meet the ball. His touch was precise, redirecting it past the outstretched arms of the goalkeeper and into the back of the net.
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "AND IT'S ADRIANO AGAIN! THREE-NIL FOR MANCHESTER CITY!"
The Etihad exploded into cheers. Adriano ran toward the touchline, his expression cool and composed. He tapped his chest, pointing at his name before pressing his hand to the Nike logo—a nod to his new boots that had been shining under the lights all game.
Martin Tyler exclaimed, "He just can't stop scoring! Another inch-perfect finish from the Portuguese Superstar. It's becoming routine at this point."
Alan Smith agreed. "He's got the awareness, the timing, and the finishing to make it all look so easy. That's his 17th goal of the Premier League—he's unstoppable. And we're still not halfway through the season."
As his teammates swarmed him, Kompany gave him a hard pat on the back. "You're spoiling us, you know that?" he laughed.
Adriano shrugged, grinning. "Just doing my job, Captain."
Silva, shaking his head with a smirk, added, "If that's just your job, then we need to start giving you a raise."
The banter continued as they walked back to the halfway line, the smiles evident even as the referee blew for halftime moments later. City jogged off to applause, their dominance undeniable.
The second half began with Palace clearly deflated. Their earlier attempts to press and push had evaporated; they now sat deeper, almost resigned to damage control. City, however, showed no mercy. Pellegrini's men continued to move the ball crisply, probing for openings while remaining in complete control.
In the 74th minute, their patience was rewarded again. City worked the ball from left to right, dragging Palace's defense out of shape. Kolarov overlapped on the left, receiving the ball in stride before delivering a cutback into the heart of the box. Silva, arriving late and unmarked, took a touch to settle and then calmly slotted it into the bottom corner.
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "DAVID SILVA! FOUR FOR CITY! THEY ARE RAMPANT AT THE ETIHAD!"
Silva raised his hands to the crowd, a modest gesture as his teammates crowded around him. "Finally!" Hazard laughed, patting him on the back. "I thought you'd forgotten how to shoot."
Silva smirked. "Just had to make it look good."
Adriano joined, nodding in approval. "You had me worried for a second. That touch was a bit heavy," he teased.
Silva chuckled. "All part of the plan."
After bit of back and forth , the remaining minutes didn't provide any opportunities. The referee checked his watch and decided that was it.
The full-time whistle blew to a standing ovation from the Etihad faithful. Pellegrini's men walked off with confidence etched into their expressions, another dominant performance in the books.
Adriano strolled back to the tunnel, Hazard draping an arm around his shoulder. "Juventus better be watching, eh?" Hazard said with a grin.
Adriano just nodded. "Let them watch," he replied coolly. "We'll be ready."
***
The icy chill of winter clung to the air as Manchester City arrived at The Hawthorns, the snow flurries dusting the pitch like scattered confetti. Despite the biting cold, the City players looked sharp and focused as they warmed up, breath puffing in clouds as they stretched and sprinted across the frosty grass.
Inside the tunnel, Adriano bounced lightly on his toes, glancing over at Hazard. "You ready for this, Eden? Snow and all?" he asked with a grin.
Hazard chuckled, rubbing his hands together. "If it means slipping past defenders like they're on ice skates, I'm ready."
Kompany overheard and clapped both on the back. "Let's make this one count. No slow starts," the captain urged, his eyes steely with determination.
***
The referee's whistle pierced the frosty air, and the game kicked off with City immediately asserting control. Pellegrini had opted for the same starting eleven that had dominated Crystal Palace, banking on rhythm and stability. West Brom, however, were disciplined, settling deep into their 4-4-2 formation, content to suffocate City's midfield and pounce on any loose balls.
For the first twenty minutes, West Brom's plan was effective. City rotated possession between De Bruyne and Silva, probing for openings, but West Brom's packed midfield kept the channels closed. Hazard and Salah found themselves double-marked on the flanks, their usual bursts forward stifled. Martin Tyler commented, "You can see what West Brom are trying to do here. They're sitting deep, compressing the spaces, and trying to deny City any joy out wide."
Alan Smith added, "It's smart. But how long can you keep City out? They only need that one crack, and they're through."
That crack finally appeared in the 28th minute. Silva drifted into a pocket of space just outside the box, drawing two defenders toward him. With a deft flick of his boot, he played it back to De Bruyne, who wasted no time firing a sharp, grounded pass into Adriano's feet.
Adriano, with his back to goal and a defender tight on him, pivoted smoothly, shrugging off the challenge with ease. He spotted Hazard making a run down the left channel, and with a perfectly weighted through ball, split the defense wide open.
Martin Tyler's voice rose with anticipation: "Adriano... threading it through… Hazard's in!"
Hazard surged forward, took one touch to set himself, and calmly slotted it past the onrushing keeper, his shot grazing the inside of the far post before nestling into the net.
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "GOOOOOAAAAALLLL! EDEN HAZARD! MANCHESTER CITY TAKE THE LEAD!"
The away section erupted, scarves twirling above heads as the fans roared in unison. Hazard pointed back at Adriano in acknowledgment, nodding with a grin. He jogged over to the away section, pumping his fists and sharing high-fives with his teammates.
Adriano jogged over, patting him on the back. "Told you they'd be slipping," he said with a wink.
Hazard laughed, catching his breath. "Perfect pass, mate. You keep feeding me like that, and I'll keep scoring."
Kompany joined them, clapping both on the back. "That's how we do it. Keep the tempo up," the captain urged, eyes locked with determination.
***
West Brom emerged from halftime with a bit more urgency, pressing higher up the pitch. City, however, remained unfazed, circulating possession with calm precision. Pellegrini's instructions were clear—control the ball, wait for openings, and strike when the moment was right.
In the 54th minute, Adriano won a free-kick just outside the box after a clumsy challenge from Dawson. The Portuguese striker dusted himself off, took a deep breath, and placed the ball down, eyeing the wall and the keeper's positioning. He took four measured steps back, hands on his hips, his gaze fixed on the target.
Martin Tyler's voice grew tense. "This is within his range. We've seen him do it before…"
Adriano ran up and struck it cleanly, the ball curling with wicked precision around the wall. The keeper leapt, stretching his fingertips desperately, and just managed to tip it onto the post. The ball cannoned off with a loud thud, and the crowd gasped in unison.
Alan Smith was quick to react. "Oh, that was inches away! Almost another beauty from Adriano!"
Adriano slapped his hands together in frustration, turning to Silva with a smirk. "Next one's going in," he promised.
Silva just laughed. "I don't doubt it."
City continued their pressure, and in the 64th minute, they found their reward. Salah, who had been relatively quiet, suddenly exploded into life. Collecting the ball on the right flank, he danced past his marker with a sharp shimmy, gliding down the line before whipping a low cross into the six-yard box.
Adriano, always anticipating, slipped between two defenders, his eyes locked on the ball. He took a clean touch, spun his marker with a drop of the shoulder, and smashed it into the roof of the net from close range.
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "GOOOOAAAALLLL! ADRIANO AGAIN! CITY DOUBLE THEIR LEAD!"
The away section roared with approval. Adriano sprinted to the corner flag, kissing the badge and pointing to the crowd. Salah joined him with a laugh. "Told you I'd get you one," he grinned.
Adriano chuckled, throwing an arm around him. "Perfect delivery, Mo. Keep those coming."
Kompany jogged over, ruffling Adriano's hair. "You're making it look too easy, mate."
Adriano just shrugged. "Good service makes it easy," he replied with a grin.
West Brom pulled one back in the 82nd minute after a scramble in the box led to a scrappy finish, sparking brief hope for the home side. Pellegrini shouted instructions from the touchline, urging his side to maintain composure.
But City weren't done. In the dying moments, a quick counterattack saw De Bruyne release Salah with a perfectly timed pass. The Egyptian sprinted clear of the last defender, eyes locked on the goal. He took one touch and slotted it coolly past the keeper, silencing any hopes of a comeback.
GOAL ANNOUNCER: "MOHAMED SALAH SEALS IT FOR CITY! 3–1!"
Salah pointed to De Bruyne in celebration, grinning as Adriano and Hazard joined him. "That's how we finish a game," Adriano said, offering a high-five.
Salah slapped his hand with a grin. "We make it look easy, huh?"
The final whistle blew to raucous applause from the traveling fans. Pellegrini clapped proudly from the touchline, while the players shared pats on the back and embraces.
Kompany gathered them together in a huddle. "Another one down. We don't stop. Keep this momentum," he said firmly, his eyes burning with conviction.
Adriano nodded. "Let's go into the new year as the League Leaders."
***
Pellegrini, ever the pragmatist, decided the final two matches of December were the perfect opportunity for rotation. With the Champions League knockout stages looming and the league race heating up, it was time to protect his key assets.
Adriano, Hazard, Silva, De Bruyne, and Hummels were all given a week off—time to recharge and spend Christmas with their families. Their replacements—Kane, Milner, Casemiro, and Mangala—were tasked with keeping City's momentum against Burnley and Sunderland.
***
The glass walls of Manchester Airport shimmered with frost as Adriano stood leaning against a steel column, hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets. His assistant, Raul Anderson, stood beside him, tapping away on his phone and occasionally glancing up at the digital departures board. The airport buzzed with holiday travelers, families lugging suitcases and couples wrapped in thick scarves, rushing to catch flights to warmer climates.
Adriano's gaze swept across the crowd, scanning each wave of passengers disembarking from the arrival gate. His eyes lit up as he finally spotted her—Kate, dragging her suitcase behind her, bundled up in a beige coat and a knitted scarf, her hair slightly windswept from the journey. Her eyes searched for him, squinting through the sea of faces.
"There she is," Adriano said, nudging Raul with a grin.
Raul looked up and chuckled. "Go on, don't keep her waiting."
Adriano didn't need to be told twice. He broke into a light jog, weaving through clusters of travelers until Kate finally saw him. Her face brightened, eyes sparkling with delight. Before she could even call out his name, Adriano reached her, scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around.
"Adriano! Put me down, you crazy man!" she laughed, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
"Not a chance," he replied, laughing as he spun her one more time before setting her down gently. Kate caught her breath, her cheeks flushed from both the spin and the sheer joy of seeing him. Adriano leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. "Missed you," he whispered.
She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Missed you too. Are you trying to cause a scene?" she teased, glancing around at the curious onlookers, some of whom had already pulled out their phones to snap photos.
Adriano shrugged with a grin. "Let them watch. I don't care anymore." He kissed her gently, ignoring the flickers of camera flashes from the far side of the terminal. For once, he was oblivious to the world.
He finally set her back on her feet, still holding her close. Kate straightened her coat, cheeks flushed but smiling wide. "You always have to make a scene, don't you?" she teased.
"Only when it's worth it," he shot back with a grin.
Raul wandered over, raising an eyebrow. "You two are going to make me miss my flight," he said, glancing at his watch with an exaggerated sigh.
Kate smiled warmly. "Good to see you too, Raul."
He returned the smile. "I'm heading out ahead of you. I'll make sure everything's set up in Lisbon." He gave Adriano a nod. "You two enjoy the flight. I'll see you there."
Adriano clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Raul. Safe trip."
With that, Raul disappeared into the crowd, leaving the two of them alone. Adriano took Kate's suitcase from her hand. "Come on, let's get going. Our gate's this way."
Kate smiled and leaned against him. " Can't wait to see what Lisbon has in store for us."
Adriano grabbed her suitcase with one hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders with the other. "Come on, then. Let's go home."