The numbers are outrageous, even by City’s standards. It looks like a typo

In the cold morning air of Manchester, when the city was just waking up and the sky was still grey like a man thinking about his future, a storm was already building around Erling Haaland. People were talking everywhere, from the streets to the pubs to the football blogs that never sleep. They were whispering one name the way people whisper the name of a king who controls everything without saying a word. Haaland. The striker who walks into a stadium and makes defenders feel like school children holding stones against a giant. The man who scores goals like he is collecting coins in a video game. The man who does not need to speak too much because his boots talk for him.
And now Manchester City were preparing something for him, something that England had never seen before in the Premier League. Something so big that people were calling it astronomical. Something so massive that even the richest clubs in Europe were touching their heads and asking themselves how they would ever match it. It was not just a deal. It was a mega deal. A contract so large that newspapers said it could break the sky. Because that is what happens when you are Erling Haaland, a man who has scored 105 goals in just 114 games for Manchester City, a number so insane that even calculators get confused when they try to understand it. Sixteen goals already this season and the season was still young, like a child stretching its arms for the first time.
Manchester City wanted him to stay, and they were ready to show how far they were willing to go. They were ready to give him a salary worth £500,000 per week, a number that makes normal people sit down quietly and look at the wall for ten minutes. But for Manchester City, this was not madness. This was investment. This was protection. This was love mixed with fear, because when a player like Haaland is on your team, the whole world is looking at him, and some of the biggest clubs are waiting for the right moment to strike like predators watching a wounded lion.
The Mirror was the first to blow the trumpet. They reported that Haaland’s basic salary alone would destroy every past record in Premier League history, even beating Kevin De Bruyne’s mountain-high wages of £400,000 per week. Kevin, the wizard who bends passes like the wind listens to him. Kevin, the man who City fans adore like a peaceful god. If Haaland’s deal was going above him, then everybody knew this contract was not normal. It was a statement of power. It was City staring at Europe and saying, “Who will challenge us now?”º
But even with all this talk, Haaland had not signed yet. His pen was still sleeping on the table. And the reason for that was one small but powerful problem. A release clause. A simple line in a contract that was causing Manchester City to sweat like a team losing in the last minute. The release clause was reportedly £150 million, a number that looks huge to many people but looks small to the giant clubs of Europe. A number that Real Madrid could pay before breakfast if they really wanted to. So City wanted to remove or change that clause. They wanted something stronger, something that would lock Haaland inside the Etihad like a priceless treasure.
But negotiations were moving in a positive direction. City believed they were winning the battle. They believed they had the advantage because something big had happened recently. Something that Haaland cared about maybe more than money. Pep Guardiola had signed a one year contract extension. Pep, the football professor with a brain full of ideas and a heart full of football. Pep, who talks calmly but destroys teams with tactics that feel like puzzles only he understands. Pep was not just a manager to Haaland. He was the mentor who unlocked something deep inside him, the man who polished him like a diamond even though he was already shining.
According to The Sun, Pep’s decision to stay was like a key that City hoped would open Haaland’s heart and make him stay for another four or five years. And if he did sign, the numbers were crazy. Haaland could earn around £100 million during that period without even adding bonuses. With bonuses, who knows? The number could fly like a bird into the clouds.
Haaland himself had spoken earlier, before Pep signed his extension, and his words were filled with emotion. He said he hoped Pep would sign a new deal. He said Pep had been important to him in the first two and a half years. He said he liked Pep and hoped Pep liked him too. It was the kind of sentence that makes fans smile, like hearing that your favorite hero plans to stay in your village a little longer. Haaland’s words showed something deeper than football. He was comfortable. He was happy. He was respected. And anybody who understands football knows that comfort is powerful. Money can pull a player. But comfort can tie him down.
But far away in Spain, in a white castle called Real Madrid, another story was forming like a shadow behind the sun. Real Madrid, the club that breathes trophies, the club that lifts Champions League titles as if they are drinking water. Real Madrid were watching everything closely. They had their eyes on Haaland like a hawk watching prey from the sky. Earlier in the month, reports said they were ready to offer €200 million to bring the Norwegian machine to Spain. A number that would shake the football world. A number that only a few clubs could even dream about.
Florentino Pérez, the powerful president of Los Blancos, was believed to have a whole plan ready. A plan that would explode into action if Rodrygo and Vinicius Junior ever left the club. Haaland was the chosen one, according to Spanish outlet Fichajes. The man they believed could open a new era for Real Madrid. They saw him as the future king of Bernabéu. They saw him as the man who could continue their tradition of signing monsters like Cristiano Ronaldo, Gareth Bale, and Benzema. Haaland fit the image perfectly. He had the power. He had the goals. He had the presence. He had the fear factor.
The Spanish report added something that all football lovers already know in their hearts. The possibility of joining Real Madrid is tempting to any footballer. That stadium. That badge. That history. Those nights when the Champions League lights feel like magic. Those moments when the crowd roars like thunder hitting the ground. Any player could dream about it. Even Haaland.
So the world was holding its breath. Fans were wondering what he would decide. Would he stay in Manchester and accept the mega contract that would make him the richest Premier League player of all time? Or would he listen to the whispers from Madrid, the whisper that says come and be immortal? People were arguing in living rooms, in bars, online under anonymous usernames. Some said Haaland would never leave Pep. Others said Real Madrid were destiny for players of his level.
Meanwhile, Manchester City were doing everything they could. They were preparing the papers. They were preparing the meetings. They were preparing the numbers that made other clubs choke. They knew they had to move fast. They knew Real Madrid were not joking. They knew that if they did not secure Haaland now, it might become a war later. A transfer battle so huge that the whole world would watch like a movie.
Even City fans were watching from the outside with mixed emotions. Some were calm, trusting the club that rarely makes mistakes. Some were nervous, remembering how football can change suddenly like a storm appearing on a sunny day. Some were begging online, writing messages from their hearts, telling Haaland to stay, reminding him of the love, the goals, the trophies, the chants, the nights under the Etihad lights where his name echoes like thunder.
But deep inside the story, behind all the headlines and negotiations, there was something more human. A young man who holds extreme power without asking for it. A 24-year-old facing decisions that could change clubs, leagues, nations. Yes he earns millions. Yes he is a superstar. But he is still a person with emotions, relationships, and dreams. People forget that sometimes because the numbers in his life look unreal.
As the days passed, more articles were written. More experts gave opinions. More predictions filled social media. But Haaland kept calm. He did not rush. He did not panic. He let the world talk while he focused on what he does best: scoring goals. Every time he scored, the noise grew louder. Every time he celebrated with his cold, calm, robotic style, fans asked themselves: is he celebrating for Manchester City or just celebrating because goals are part of his nature?
City’s offer was standing like a mountain. Real Madrid’s interest was floating like a mysterious cloud. Pep’s contract extension was burning like a bright flame. Haaland was in the middle of everything, like a magnet pulling attention from all directions.
The truth is, Manchester City cannot afford to lose him. Not now. Not later. He is not just a striker. He is their symbol. He is their weapon. He is the nightmare of every defender in England. Losing him would be like losing electricity in a house built with gold. Yes the house is beautiful. But without power, darkness becomes too risky. So they will fight. They will spend. They will negotiate. They will protect what is theirs.
And Real Madrid will wait. They will always wait. That club has patience. They do not rush like other clubs. They study. They plan. They strike at the perfect moment. If they want Haaland, they will not stop. They will test Man City. They will test Haaland. They will test football destiny itself.
In the end, the world will keep watching because this story is far from finished. The mega contract is still on the table. The release clause is still a headache. The Real Madrid dream is still alive. Pep’s influence is still powerful. Haaland’s future is still a mystery wrapped inside a young man who destroys records like a hobby.
Some fans believe he will stay. Some believe he will go. But everybody agrees on one thing. Whatever Haaland decides will shake football. And that decision is coming. Slowly, silently, but surely.
Until then, the world waits. Manchester waits. Madrid waits. Football waits. Because giants move slowly. But when they finally move, the earth shakes















