For decades the Devil
held the same parties: at his palace in Hell,
if a Manchester United match was happening,
he and his highest demons would be watching,
meaning he and Belial and Lilith and Abaddon
and Belphegor and Mammon and Melchom and Asmodeus,
in this massive, marble-floored community room
with a full-wall screen for watching soccer.
They'd been watching when Cantona kicked in the winner
to give United the FA Cup: Belial backflipped
off an ottoman into the celebrant arms
of Astaroth. Everyone was drunk off their asses
watching Giggs winding through defenders
for a brilliant goal against Arsenal;
sitting in sofas or standings on top of them,
they screamed with relief when van der Sar's save
versus Chelsea won them the Champions League,
and they popped open a thousand-year-old champagne
when van Persie's hattrick versus Villa
secured the title in Fergie's last season;
in that last happiness, Behemoth and Abaddon
fist-bumped with their beaming, bulbous heads,
and Belial and Lilith led in a chant:
TAKE ME HOME
UNITED ROAD
TO THE HELL
WHERE I BELONG
WEST COCYTUS
MOLTEN MOUNTAIN
TAKE ME HOME
UNITED ROAD
 
That was thirteen godforsaken years ago.
 
On August 15th, 2026,
They were drinking and dreading another year of disappointment
as United were losing, two-nil, to Milan.
Belial was crying, Lilith was screaming,
Abaddon appeared to be having a heart attack,
Mammon was making money having bet
guiltily against Manchester United,
and all of this anguish, agony, and grief
when really the result was completely irrelevant:
a preseason friendly, with no competitive importance.
At the 73rd minute, Mbeumo hit the woodwork.
At the 81st minute, a miss from Šeško.
The 94th passed.
And United had lost.
Tired, drunk, and despondent, the demons
flopped on the floor or checked their phones
till a few filed out; the destitute Devil
followed them; in the fourth floor foyer
he nodded his head, and mumbled "how…
how…this can't keep fucking happening…"
The Devil walked into the adjoining gallery,
his collection of Man U memorabilia
in climate-controlled cases and cabinets.
Slowly, seeing the Devil's sadness
and feeling the same, they followed him in
like metal shavings around a magnet.
They had seen the same memorabilia many times:
kits from throughout the club's history;
a ball signed by the treble-winning side;
and his collection's crown jewel, George Best's
first liver, suspended in solution
in a specimen jar. He circuited the room,
clanking his claws, and then he declared
"It's come down to this. I'm buying the club.
The Glazers and Ratcliffe have got to go.
If we don't do anything it'll be the same disappointment,
falling short at fifth or fifteenth,
the occasional cup win to keep us hopeful.
No more. I'm making this happen, immediately."
There was a brief pause. Abaddon butted in:
"But what can we do to make them win?
You're not suggesting?…" Every one knew
what Abaddon meant: Heaven had diminished,
year after year, their demonic mandate,
so that now, on Earth, they could do almost nothing.
The official rule, often enforced,
said demonic magic in the mortal realm
was completely forbidden, and heavenly courts
had sentenced one watcher to six years in prison
for having intercourse with a man as an incubus,
then having sex with him again as a succubus.
"Nothing like that will be necessary. We just need
to change the club's culture completely.
That, and make sure they have lots of money.
And speaking of money: Mammon, you must have
the Glazers and Ineos's contact info?"
 
Mammon made a few calls; the next morning,
in a video conference with Avram Glazer
and Jim Ratcliffe, an agreement was reached:
for an undisclosed sum, and certain provisions
related to the status of souls in the afterlife,
Satan would receive every single share
of Manchester United. None of his provisions
about souls were the slightest bit true:
contracts like that weren't binding unless signed in blood,
and the Prince of Darkness couldn't promise
anything like what he'd promised them anyway.
But by 5pm Sunday, the sale was complete,
the transfer of funds from Inferno to Earth
all done and docusigned:
the Devil and his party
were moving from Hell to their new home in Manchester.