The draw was finally announced. The Football Association, perhaps wary of fan backlash or maybe just wary of the Red Tiger's growl, had refrained from setting another landmine.
Manchester United were drawn against Norwich City at home in the League Cup Round of 16.
A Premier League side, yes—but far from a powerhouse. The air around the club grew lighter. For now, the FA had pulled back their claws.
For many, it seemed like a stroke of good fortune for Tiger King's men. But the real story lay further back, behind closed doors.
The Football Association, alarmed by dwindling attendances and lack of intensity in early League Cup rounds, had been searching for a way to inject fire into the tournament. Too often, the big clubs fielded second-string squads, treating the competition like an afterthought. The prestige was fading. The spotlight dimming.
That's when the idea had taken root:Manchester United vs Liverpool — a rivalry steeped in blood, history, and tribal passion.
The draw wasn't rigged, but it wasn't innocent either. The FA wanted fireworks. They wanted eyes. They wanted war.
And boy, did they get it. A seven-goal thriller, a late winner, a stadium roaring like thunder, and a manager who turned a pre-match press conference into a vendetta. Tiger King didn't just play the game — he weaponized it.
"Second kill complete," he'd declared with a cold grin, "I told you: every time we face Liverpool this season, we will kill Liverpool."
The FA's gamble paid off. Headlines blazed across the nation. Ticket sales surged for the next round. The League Cup suddenly mattered again.
So, in the aftermath of that chaos, when Manchester United were handed a tie against Norwich City at Old Trafford — it wasn't the FA pulling back their claws.
It was the FA wiping the sweat off their brow, whispering: Mission accomplished.
Now they just needed to keep the fire burning.
Just three days later, Manchester United would return to action. It was another home game, this time in the Premier League against familiar foes: West Bromwich Albion.
Tiger King was clear: rest the generals, but don't let the army lose its edge.
He named a rotated XI:
Goalkeeper: Alisson
Defenders: Ashley Young, Van Dijk, Alderweireld, Valencia
Midfielders: Phil Jones (back from suspension and burning with focus), Anderson (rewarded with a start), Giggs, and Lingard
Forwards: Martial and James Wilson
On the bench waited Rooney, Mahrez, Vidic, De Gea, Alonso, Rafael, and Carrick.
Before kickoff, Tiger pulled Phil Jones aside. "Like a tiger," he told him, "but with control. No more reds. Earn your place with brains as well as brawn."
Jones nodded fiercely. He understood.
As for Anderson, he got no special congratulations for his Liverpool heroics. Instead, King looked him dead in the eye and said, "Today, you lead. No excuses."
On September 28, in front of a packed Old Trafford, Manchester United professionally dispatched West Brom 2–0.
It was clean, sharp, and satisfying. Anderson ran the midfield like a general. Giggs brought width and intelligence. Martial and Wilson linked well, and the backline barely gave the visitors a sniff.
But the biggest applause of the afternoon? It went to Phil Jones.
He was a wrecking ball with a scalpel — fierce but controlled. His positioning was smarter, his tackles well-timed. For once, his yellow card didn't come with panic.
Scholes commented post-match, shaking his head with a smirk, "Jones is finally getting rid of it."
In the second half, King replaced Vidic with Van Dijk.
He leaned in toward his captain on the bench. "How do you feel?"
Vidic wiped sweat from his brow and grinned. "Boss, don't worry. I'm back."
King sighed in relief. "You and Rio getting hurt at the same time — nearly gave me grey hairs."
Vidic looked out at the pitch, quiet. "They're doing well. Maybe Rio and I should start thinking about retirement…"
King cut him off. "Don't even joke. Your contract's till 2016. You're helping us win a treble. No shortcuts."
Vidic smiled, but his eyes wandered to the cloudless Old Trafford sky. "Today's sun is good."
After the match, King made his rounds.
Rio Ferdinand was still recovering from a serious injury. He wouldn't return for two months. But King brought a gift: a new contract till 2016. No change in salary, no conditions. Just respect.
Ferdinand signed, his eyes misty. His loyalty repaid.
Michael Carrick was improving slowly. His injury was old and needed patience.
King told him: "No rush. We'll wait."
N'Golo Kanté, the engine room Tiger missed the most, was finally back in ball training. King watched him from a distance, hopeful.
In his heart, King whispered, If I had you against City… things would've been different.
With Kanté's absence still weighing heavy, King began planning.
More depth at defensive midfield would be crucial by summer 2014. He knew what modern football demanded: tireless lungs, aggressive pressing, and coverage in transition.
And if not for Jones' redemption arc, King mused, they might have collapsed.
But now, they had survived. Liverpool were vanquished. West Brom were dismissed.
The League Cup journey would continue against Norwich. And on the horizon?
The lights of the Champions League began to glow once again.