《Football Dynasty》


 Chapter 1 - 1: Football Fan Forever, Even In Death

    For an athlete, there is no greater fear than injury. It lurks in every tackle, every sprint, every jump. It is the shadow that follows them onto the pitch, the unspoken dread that threatens to end everything in an instant.


    The same is true in football, where every second is a battle and the risk is ever-present. A wrong step, a mistimed challenge, or sheer misfortune could turn a promising career into a distant memory.


    Beeping monitors played a constant rhythm, like a soundtrack to the stillness of the room. The soft rustle of paper and the tapping of rubber-soled shoes echoed down the corridor, blending with the quiet murmur of distant voices.


    "Richard."


    It was a very familiar voice, warm and comforting, cutting through the haze of unconsciousness.


    "Richard."


    His heart skipped a beat, a surge of something raw rushing through him as he tried to focus on the sound. His eyelids fluttered, as if the effort to open them felt too much. But then¡ª


    "Richard, wake up!"


    The third time she called his name, something in him snapped.


    Richard''s eyes shot open, and this shocked not only his mother, who had called after him so many times, but everyone in the room.


    The nurse was so startled that she almost screamed in fear. His family and the medical staff surrounding his bed stared in shocked.


    For a moment, the silence stretched, a breathless pause.


    Then, all at once, the tension evaporated. Joy filled the room like a rush of air.


    The news spread like wildfire through the hospital.


    Soon, it spread across the country.


    Richard Maddox was back, alive!


    The man who had been declared dead was alive!


    Richard Maddox. Before the disastrous collision, people had many names for him.


    The Sun dubbed him The Local Football Prodigy, capturing his meteoric rise and undeniable talent that had the nation buzzing with excitement.


    The Mirror wasn''t far behind, calling him England''s Most Talented Youngster, recognizing his promise and the bright future ahead of him.


    The Daily Express added its own flair, going full tabloid with headlines like The Boy Who Assists, likening his passes to spells cast with surgical precision, unlocking even the tightest defenses.


    The Guardian took a more measured approach, referring to him as The Next Generation Talent of the Three Lions, believing that he could be the future backbone of England''s national team.


    In the 1983/1984 season, just after his debut, Richard helped Sheffield Wednesday secure promotion from the Second Division to the First Division.


    In that season, they made an immediate impact, defying expectations. Their spirited performances propelled Sheffield Wednesday into the upper echelons of English football, with the club finishing a remarkable 8th place.


    Now, in the 1985/1986 season, when many believed Sheffield Wednesday would still be adapting and likely fighting to avoid relegation¡ªor at best finish mid-table¡ªthey defied expectations and made a breakthrough, challenging the upper echelons of English football once again by finishing in an impressive 5th place.


    It was an extraordinary and consistent performance, with the young debutant''s impact nothing short of remarkable. His displays on the pitch had captured the hearts of both fans and pundits, and the excitement he generated throughout the league was felt across the nation.


    He had already secured his place¡ªproof that, even at such a young age, he was destined for greatness. However, no one could have anticipated the unexpected accident that occurred in the dying minutes of the match.


    It was the 8th fixture of the 1985/1986 season, Sheffield Wednesday F.C. versus Luton Town.


    With only moments left on the clock, the game was tense¡ªtied at 1-1. The crowd held its breath as the ball bounced awkwardly in front of the goal.


    Richard, ever the opportunist, saw his chance. His eyes locked on the ball, and without hesitation, he launched himself into the air, aiming to meet it with a header. He was running at full speed, leaping from a distance to reach the ball, which had come to him in the nick of time.


    His timing was perfect, and the ball flew into the back of the net, a stunning goal that put his team in front


    The stadium erupted, the fans cheering in sheer joy as their team was moments away from securing a draw.


    But the celebration quickly turned to shock.


    In his desperate attempt to score, Richard had misjudged his leap, colliding with the goalpost in a sickening thud. The impact reverberated through the stadium, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze.


    The referee blew his whistle, signaling the end of the match, but all eyes were on Richard.


    He lay there motionless.


    The stadium was filled with a tense silence as medical staff rushed onto the pitch. Fans, who moments ago had been celebrating the goal, now held their breath, hoping the young man wasn''t seriously hurt.


    But it was too late.


    Richard received treatment for eleven minutes on the Hillsborough Stadium pitch before being stretchered off with an oxygen mask and taken to the hospital. It was there, in the sterile, cold light of the emergency room, that the unthinkable happened.


    Richard Maddox, the rising star of English football, was declared dead!


    The doctors worked tirelessly, but despite their best efforts, his injuries¡ªtoo severe, too sudden¡ªhad taken him. The news spread like wildfire, and in a cruel twist of fate, the world had lost its brightest hope in the blink of an eye.


    People were mourning deeply, but then another national shock came after the declaration of his death.


    Richard had been rushed to the hospital, where he was never able to regain consciousness. However, just as his body was being transported to the morgue, he suddenly gasped for breath, startling everyone in the room.


    "Arrggh, zombie!"


    "Open the door quickly!"


    "Hey, where''s the freaking extinguisher?!" someone yelled. "Let''s hit him in the head properly this time!"


    "..."


    A brief silence fell over the room as the entire staff stared in disbelief. Thankfully, the doctors at that time were still able to think rationally and quickly rushed to stop the staff members who had already grabbed the fire extinguisher.


    The hospital turned upside down. Still, they were still in shock, struggling to understand how¡ªjust how?!


    At the end of the day, they were forced to make a quick decision. The hospital decided to issue a statement. In the eyes of the media, government officials, and the millions of fans worldwide, The pressure grew unbearable.


    [...Richard Maddox had experienced a "clinical death" state, where the body appears lifeless but can sometimes be revived. It was a rare occurrence, but not unheard of...]


    With the public demanding answers, the government keeping a close eye on them, and media scrutiny intensifying, they knew they couldn''t let this headline-grabbing event drag on. They could only present the most logical explanation they could offer.


    Even if it felt a bit forced, they had no choice but to accept it. The pressure was too great for them to do anything else.


    "Well, that''s what happened."


    After briefly being filled in on everything that had happened while he was in a coma, Richard finally regained his composure. Still struggling to grasp the reality, but slowly, it began to settle in¡ªhe had come back to life.


    "Your body goes into a natural state of panic and self-preservation when you get badly hurt¡ªit knows when something is massively wrong. The pain was unbearable, like a bomb going off in your head, right at the temple," the doctor explained slowly and patiently.


    In extreme trauma, the body sometimes "shuts down" as a survival response, limiting unnecessary activity to conserve energy and focus on repairing itself. Fractured skull and potential for brain damage pushed his body into a state of emergency. The pain had been too much.


    His system had simply... stopped. It took him a total of eight months to regain consciousness.


    Seven metal plates in his skull, with fourteen screws just to hold them in place. Thirty-five staples and a seven-inch scar ran across his head¡ªa constant reminder of the ordeal he had endured. His balance was severely affected; walking in a straight line felt impossible. Even the slightest movement of his head sent waves of dizziness through him.


    For the first ten days, he had to be spoon-fed, unable to do even the most basic tasks on his own. It wasn''t until ten weeks later that he could finally open his mouth properly again. The road to recovery was long and grueling, but he had no choice but to push through.


    The next thing he remembered is being woken up. Everything was a bit of a blur. He remembered feeling a lot of pain. He couldn''t handle it. There was so much noise¡ªso much that it felt like screaming straight into his ear. He was incredibly sensitive to noise.


    "I''m lucky to be back¡­ huh?" Richard murmured to himself, staring out the window of the hospital room.


    The distant sky, with its fading hues of sunset, felt almost surreal to him. The world outside seemed normal, yet he couldn''t explain what had happened to him¡ªor what had really happened during the time he had been unconscious.


    It felt like an entire chapter of his life had been erased, leaving him only with fragments of memories and flashes of events that seemed so distant, almost as if they belonged to someone else.


    His mind kept circling back to the same question: What had happened to him during that time?


    Transmigration? Reincarnation? Or possession?


    No, this is me.


    Everything is still the same.


    But was it truly possible for someone to die and come back? Or was this some kind of miracle¡ªa freak occurrence that no one could explain?


    He didn''t have answers, only more questions.


    When he was unconscious, his body lay motionless in the hospital bed, but his spirit seemed to wander far from it. He could see his lifeless body, lying there helpless, a sight that made his heart chill.


    He tried calling out, hoping someone would hear him. He called for his father, mother, and big brother, the nurse, other patient, and doctor¡ªbut they couldn''t hear him.


    ''Am I truly dead?'' A strange thought struck him


    He thought back to the stories he''d heard¡ª''aren''t people supposed to go to heaven or hell after they die? Or am I just a wandering soul, trapped in this world like a ghost in horror movies?''


    The shock and confusion gave way to a deep sense of denial. Then came anger¡ªwhy couldn''t anyone hear him? It wasn''t fair. Then came bargaining¡ª''Maybe if I try hard enough, I can wake up, get back in my body.'' But after what seemed like an eternity, Richard reached a place of acceptance. He had to, eventually.


    With a reluctant sigh, Richard bowed his head to his parents, his big brother, and even to the doctors and nurses who had worked so hard to save him. He had to leave his hospital room behind. But where to?


    Where does a football-obsessed soul go when it''s no longer tethered to a body?


    With no physical restrictions, Richard rubbed his hands excitedly before drifting effortlessly, flowing from one country to another, like a phantom attending football matches.


    England, Spain, Italy, Germany... and after Paris Saint-Germain''s ambitious attempt to replicate Real Madrid''s Gal¨¢cticos with "The Mbapp¨¦ Project", he even added France to his list.


    What he didn''t expect was the rise of Manchester City, toppling Manchester United''s long-standing dominance. There was also Leicester City''s incredible underdog season, Arsenal''s Invincibles, Chelsea''s rise under Abramovich, and Liverpool''s domination in the Premier League in later years, with Mo Salah as their main attacking threat. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard was absolutely thrilled. So many surprises, so much to watch.


    Not to mention Barcelona and Real Madrid''s continued dominance, with Atl¨¦tico Madrid squeezing their way into the conversation.


    In Germany, Borussia Dortmund and Bayer Leverkusen began challenging Bayern Munich''s stranglehold on the Bundesliga. Meanwhile, Serie A saw fierce battles between AC Milan, Inter Milan, and Napoli.


    There''s also the talent-producing machine of the Netherlands, the passion-fueled leagues of Portugal, the intense Supercl¨¢sico and Paulista Derby, and the chaotic excitement of the Turkish league, where fans sometimes run amok.


    And so, despite being a ghost, Richard couldn''t resist watching the beautiful game¡ªhis passion¡ªcontinuing from the afterlife. After all, there''s nothing more comforting than watching a match, even if you''re no longer sitting in the stands.


    A football fan forever, even in death.

 Chapter 2 - 2: Forced Retirement

    "So in the end, Sheffield Wednesday didn''t make it, huh..." Richard murmured, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.


    He had always hoped the team would rise to the challenge, but the harsh reality hit. They couldn''t compete in the top tier of English football in the end.


    His disappointment was clear, but it didn''t last long. Deep down, he knew that his feelings for Sheffield Wednesday weren''t that deep. Playing for them often felt more like being under contract than out of sheer loyalty. Yes, it was meaningful, but in the end, if a better offer came along, he would leave.


    The doctor''s voice broke through his thoughts. "Lie down," he instructed gently as he checked his condition. Richard complied, lying back on the bed.


    "Does it hurt here?" the doctor asked.


    "No, I don''t feel anything," Richard replied.


    The doctor nodded to the nurse standing beside him. She nodded and scribbled something down in her notes.


    "What about here?" the doctor continued, probing gently around Richard''s head. "Any discomfort?"


    Richard simply shook his head again. There was nothing. He truly felt fine, almost too fine. It was as if the long, unsettling period of being a wandering ghost had somehow restored him completely¡ªhis body healed, no aches, no pain. It felt almost like a fresh start, like he''d never been hurt at all.


    In fact, he even thought about returning to the pitch, the idea of playing again lingering in his mind. But as soon as he asked his doctor about it, the answer came instantly: "You probably could never play football again."


    A harsh verdict. But after everything, he had already spent time as something supernatural thing¡ªwhat else could possibly shock him or drive him to despair?


    The doctor, sensing Richard''s devastation, decided to open up. "Here," he said, showing Richard the CT scan results.


    Richard''s eyes locked onto the CT scan, the image of his skull fractured in ways he couldn''t quite comprehend. It looked almost alien¡ªso many fractures, so many plates and screws holding him together. A part of him still couldn''t quite believe it.


    "Is it me?" he asked quietly.


    The doctor only nodded slowly. After thinking for a moment, Richard stood up and bowed slightly to the doctor.


    "Thank you for saving my life."


    Dr. Mark Waller, the club doctor of Sheffield Wednesday at that time, was the one who made some big decisions that shaped his recovery.


    He knew immediately that Richard had fractured his skull and that there was potential for brain damage, especially since the entire right side of his face had dropped and was paralyzed.


    The ambulance driver had wanted to go to the nearest hospital, but Dr. Waller insisted they go to St. James''s University Hospital¡ªthey actually drove past two other hospitals to get there.


    That decision probably saved his life. If they had gone to one of the nearer hospitals, he likely would have had a scan and then been referred to St. James''s, which would have wasted valuable time.


    Dr. Waller simply waved his hand before continuing to check Richard''s condition thoroughly. After making sure everything was in order, he nodded and said, "I think your recovery is going very well. I''m confident it won''t be long before you can go home."


    "Home, huh?" Richard said, feeling nostalgic at the sound of those words.


    The next seven days were filled with final assessments and preparations for Richard''s discharge. The doctors and nurses carefully monitored his recovery, running a series of tests and evaluations to ensure he was fit enough to leave the hospital.


    The physical therapists worked with him to regain strength and mobility, and the doctors went over the results of his CT scans once more to make sure everything was as it should be. It was a slow process, but a steady one. Finally, on the last day of his stay, Dr. Waller gave him the final clearance.


    "You''re in great shape," Dr. Waller said, smiling as he shook Richard''s hand. "You''ll need some rest and recovery at home, but I have no concerns. You''re good to go."


    Richard smiled back, a mix of relief and exhaustion. He''d made it through. Despite everything, he was finally able to leave this damn place. Every day here had felt like forever¡ªdull and boring.


    After leaving the examination room, Richard returned to his room. There, waiting for him, were his father, mother, and older brother. But what he didn''t expect, however, was to see his manager¡ªor rather, his former manager¡ªstanding there as well.


    "Richard, I''m glad to see you''re alright," said Howard Wilkinson, the current manager of Sheffield Wednesday.


    Richard looked at him with a complicated expression. This was the man who had given him his debut, but it was also under his leadership that Richard''s football career had come to a premature halt.


    Don''t get him wrong, it wasn''t personal. But the end of his career had come under Wilkinson''s tenure, and that stung.


    Shaking off the complicated thoughts swirling in his mind, Richard took a step forward and extended his hand.


    "Thank you, Mr. Wilkinson," he said.


    Howard, hearing the way Richard addressed him, could immediately tell the distance in Richard''s eyes and also the sadness behind them.


    Yes, this was indeed a farewell.


    He knew Richard had been exceptional, a player destined for greatness. And yet, fate had not been kind. Football could be cruel that way. Howard had been the one to lead Richard into his career, but he was also the one who saw it cut short.


    "You know this doesn''t have to be goodbye, right?" Howard said, trying to offer some encouragement.


    "Sheffield Wednesday''s door is still open for you. In fact, I''ve already spoken to the higher-ups, and they''re on board. If you''re interested, we can offer you a potential transition to a coaching role. With your experience and ability as a player, I believe you''d be great at guiding the younger players."


    Richard paused, the idea of coaching lingering in his mind. ''Transitioning to coach, huh... but after everything I''ve seen in the future?''


    He sighed, his voice tinged with melancholy. "I''ve spent so many years in the hospital, and I missed out on so much with my family¡­"


    In the end, Richard gently declined.


    "Howard couldn''t argue with that. He understood all too well. If Richard wasn''t ready or willing to make that change, no amount of persuasion would convince him. Howard gave him a moment of silence, then nodded in understanding.


    "I understand," Howard replied softly. "It''s important to take time for yourself and your family. This is a big decision."


    "Thank you, coach." sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hearing the familiar words, Howard finally smiled and regained his enthusiasm.


    That day, Richard and his family, along with Howard Wilkinson and the club''s lawyer, were gathered to discuss finalizing the terms of Richard''s contract termination. Since it was a mutual termination, there was no requirement for a lawyer from the Maddox family''s side.


    Richard''s injury clearly fell under the clause allowing termination due to a career-ending injury. With two years remaining on his contract, Sheffield Wednesday would need to provide compensation, but both parties had agreed that the Maddox family would only take 50% of the compensation package.


    The club had provided all the medical care and facilities for Richard''s recovery, and they had also handled all the publicity surrounding the injury and his career. The 50% was seen more as a gesture of honor to the club, or a formality for the legal process.


    The Maddox family, if it were solely up to them, would have opted not to take any compensation at all. However, from a legal and public relations standpoint, it wasn''t an option. The club also had to ensure the process was handled in a way that protected its image and followed legal requirements.


    By the end of the meeting, both sides were satisfied with the outcome¡ªa win-win situation.


    Both parties agreed on a fair and respectful settlement, allowing Richard and his family to move on with their lives while also protecting Sheffield Wednesday from any negative publicity or legal complications.


    Howard shook Richard''s hand once more. "We''ll always be here if you need us. Take care of yourself, Richard."


    Richard nodded, grateful for the support. "Thank you, Coach. I''ll always have a place in my heart for Sheffield Wednesday."


    Richard''s weekly wage at Sheffield Wednesday had been ¡ê90 before he signed a new contract two years ago, which was worth ¡ê120 per week and set to last for four years.


    With two years remaining on his contract, Richard had earned a total of ¡ê14,042 during his football career. Including contributions and bonuses, his total savings now stood at approximately ¡ê15,000.


    "Mr. Maddox and Mrs. Maddox, take care."


    "Take care, Mr. Wilkinson, and Sir Montague."


    After bidding farewell and watching the Ford Sierra drive away, Richard finally felt like he could breathe. He turned to his father, mother, and older brother.


    "Are you okay, dear? Are you feeling dizzy? Can you walk? Are you hungry?" Before Richard could even get a word in, his mother bombarded him with questions, her worry evident in her voice.


    "Yeah, if you''re feeling uncomfortable, just let us know, alright?" his father added in his usual calm tone.


    Bryan Maddox and Anna Maddox¡ªGallo, by her maiden name¡ªwere the two most important people in Richard''s life.


    His father worked as a forklift operator at a warehouse in King''s Cross, spending his days moving heavy pallets and boxes. It was tiring work, but he never complained. His mother, Anna, was a housewife¡ªa dedicated one. She took care of everything at home.


    "I''m okay, Mom, Dad," Richard reassured them with a tired smile. "I''ve never felt this good before." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.


    His older brother, Harry Maddox, stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. "That''s good to hear. Just focus on resting for now, alright? Make sure you recover properly before worrying about anything else. And don''t think about football."


    Harry was afraid his little brother would be devastated. Football had always been Richard''s life¡ªhis dream. The thought of his career ending like this was almost unbearable.


    "I already told you, I''m okay," Richard joked as he playfully pushed his older brother.


    After chatting and laughing with his family, they decided to spend the night at a small hotel. The next morning, they took the first train home to Islington, London.


    It is an inner-city area of North London, England, within the wider London Borough of Islington. Talking about Islington¡ªthe neighborhood where they lived¡ªor seeing what it had become made Richard''s face turn gloomy.


    If he looked at it now through the eyes of himself when he was still a wandering ghost, the difference was too great. It was like comparing two entirely different worlds, and the transformation was undeniable: from shabby to chic.


    The streets were unkempt, with potholes, litter, and neglected buildings. Thankfully, during the day, from morning to evening, the area was still lively, so it wasn''t too dangerous to walk alone. But at night, it was better to walk with someone, as it could get dangerous.


    Soon, Richard walked on and noticed the familiar sights. Despite the poverty, the neighborhood had a strong community feel, with local shops, fish-and-chip stands, and small pubs where neighbors gathered.


    Living amid a seemingly never-ending construction boom, it was hard to believe how much London had changed since the 1980s, especially Islington. Once a quiet, neglected area, it had transformed into one of the most fashionable places in the capital by the 2020s.


    "Still... It was like a desert¡ªtoo empty, too vacant¡­" Richard mumbled without realizing it.


    "What did you say?"


    "No, nothing. Let''s go."


    The house they lived in was just like any other on the street¡ªa mix of old Victorian and Georgian terraces, post-war council estates, and aging tenement-style flats.


    These buildings, originally built for working-class families, featured classic details like bay windows, pitched roofs, and brick facades that had seen years of wear and tear.


    When the Conservatives rose to power, they introduced the Right-to-Buy policy, which allowed council house tenants to purchase their homes at a discount.


    For many families, it was a chance to own a piece of the city, and the Maddox family was no exception¡ªthey didn''t want to miss out on this opportunity.


    If Richard remembered correctly, his father had spent nearly ¡ê3,500 to purchase their house¡ªalmost their entire savings at the time. It forced them to tighten their belts just to get by.


    The deal came with a condition though: the council retained the right to buy the house back in the future, based on its market value at the time.


    ''Hmm, seems like we took advantage of that policy while it was still available,'' Richard thought to himself, reflecting on the decision.

 Chapter 3 - 3: Family First

    "Mom, Dad, here''s the money."


    The total amount of money he received was ¡ê15,000. Once the Maddox family settled, Richard took the initiative and gave ¡ê7,500 of his earnings, including his salary and compensation, to his parents. He also set aside ¡ê2,500 for his brother.


    "Brother, I heard you want to start a business. Here''s ¡ê2,500 for the capital. I hope you can run the business wisely."


    The reason was simple: as someone who could be considered a "peek into the future," Richard knew that the future wasn''t just a mystery¡ªit was an opportunity for him. With his knowledge, he understood that money, in itself, was easy to come by.


    What he needed was confirmation¡ªproof that everything he saw aligned with reality. He had already set a target for himself, a way to test his predictions for the future.


    1986 FIFA World Cup. Mexico.


    If his prediction turned out to be true, he could be sure that everything he had seen about the future was accurate.


    "No, you take back your money!"


    It felt like he had stepped on his parents and older brother''s toes. They anxiously pushed the money back into his hands.


    ''You''re kidding me, right?''


    Bryan was frustrated, but also deeply sad.


    As a father, he wanted nothing more than for his son to succeed. He had always been proud of Richard, especially when he managed to make a name for himself and achieve great things. But the injury had shaken him to the core.


    With the injury, his son''s future now seemed uncertain. Bryan knew his son could no longer pursue heavy labor, and he feared the long-term effects of the injury would make it impossible for him to hold down a regular job.


    In his eyes, his youngest son was too fragile at that moment.


    Harry Maddox, Richard''s older brother, shared similar concerns but viewed things differently. He had intended to follow in their father''s footsteps, working at the warehouse.


    Though the pay was modest, Harry believed he was still young, strong, and had many years of work ahead of him, which gave him a sense of stability and purpose. So, when Richard offered him money, Harry rebuffed him harshly, saying he didn''t need it. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard was speechless. ''Brother, I want to invest! Invest!''


    But in the end, he gave up. If he insisted, he feared his brother might think he was undermining him.


    Originally, when he handed Harry the ¡ê2,500, it wasn''t meant as a gift¡ªit was meant to be an investment in his business.


    He also tried giving the money to their mother to manage, but she refused. "It''s your money, Richard. You manage it. I believe in you." Her words were firm, filled with both love and trust.


    In the Maddox family, Richard had always been the most successful¡ªat least before his forced retirement. His decision to focus on football rather than academics had been met with skepticism, but he had proven everyone wrong.


    "Do you still want to build your own supermarket?" Richard couldn''t help but ask his brother.


    Harry, his elder brother, had always had a knack for business.


    He remembered it clearly¡ªwhen they were kids, Harry used to complain about how difficult it was to buy things in Islington.


    The lack of convenience frustrated them both, and at one point, they had even joked, "It''s like we''re stuck in the stone age¡ªno supermarket, no convenience."


    When Richard was unconscious and wandering as a ghost, he spent his days either watching over his family from afar or observing how the world was changing¡ªwars, crises, and the gradual transformation of society.


    Football matches were usually held on weekends, sometimes on wednesdays, thursdays, and fridays. If there was no football, he had time to see how the world moved forward without him.


    Everyone knew that Islington had been in a state of decline. Traditional industries were disappearing, local shops were shutting down, and the population was shrinking.


    At one point, it was considered "too poor to even have a supermarket."


    What Richard hadn''t expected was the arrival of Sainsbury''s, one of the most well-known supermarket chains. But they had only agreed to open a store in Islington on one condition¡ªit had to have a car park. They believed most of their customers would be driving in from wealthier parts of London.


    This was just one of many changes. The Thatcher government''s economic policies, combined with progressive local efforts, reshaped Islington forever.


    Hearing Richard bring up the supermarket dream, Harry nodded seriously and placed a firm yet gentle grip on his younger brother''s shoulder.


    "Don''t worry. The money you earned is the result of your hard work. Don''t think about me¡ªI''ve already accepted a job at the warehouse. Before long, I''ll be working, saving, and building our own supermarket. It won''t just be mine¡ªit''ll be our family''s supermarket!"


    Richard felt a warmth spread through him at his brother''s words.


    Yeah, the Maddox family rule number one¡ªfamily always comes first. No matter what happened, they were a unit. And when it came to money, they had always been taught to be careful.


    Even as kids, their parents instilled discipline in them. Their allowance was given at a set time, and once it was spent, that was it¡ªthey had to wait until the next day. No asking for more, no borrowing, no exceptions.


    Money had the power to create division. That was something they had learned early on. Unless it was an emergency, you never borrowed or took money from others¡ªnot even from your own family. Because money, no matter how small, could be dangerous.


    "Richard, Harry, come for dinner!"


    Their mother''s voice rang through the house.


    "Coming, Mom!" Harry shouted back before turning to his younger brother with a grin. "Alright, no more chit-chat. Let''s go¡ªI''m starving."


    Richard rolled his eyes but smiled, pushing himself up carefully. As they made their way to the dining room, Harry instinctively placed a steadying hand on Richard''s back.


    "Take it slow, Richard."


    Richard sighed. "Brother, I''m okay now."


    "I know, just making sure."


    The kitchen was small and outdated, but it had always been the heart of their home. The linoleum flooring was slightly worn, the old cabinets had chipped paint, and a well-used gas stove stood in the corner. At the center of the kitchen was the dining table, a simple but sturdy piece.


    Tonight, it was set with care.


    The table was already set, a comforting sight of home. A steaming pot of stew sat in the center, its rich aroma filling the room. Freshly baked bread was neatly stacked beside it, and a bowl of mashed potatoes glistened under the warm kitchen light.


    Richard blinked at the spread. "So much food?"


    His father, Bryan chuckled from his seat at the head of the table, his eyes lighting up as he looked at his two sons. "Hahaha, don''t worry about it. Come sit down, don''t just stand there. You need to eat well if you want to heal properly."


    Their mother motioned for them to sit as she gently placed a plate in front of Richard. "I made extra tonight. You need strength."


    Richard chuckled, touched by the attention. "Mom, I''m not dying, you know."


    "No, but you gave us all a scare," she replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.


    Harry smirked as he tore off a piece of bread. "He''s right, though. You being home like this? Feels weird. Shouldn''t you be out there kicking a ball?"


    The room fell into a brief silence. Harry''s words lingered in the air, an unspoken reminder of what Richard had lost. Realizing his mistake, Harry quickly tried to backtrack.


    "Richard, I didn''t mean¡ª"


    But Richard simply raised a hand, cutting him off with a small, reassuring smile. "Brother, it''s okay. Really."


    He glanced around the table, noticing the worried looks on his family''s faces. With a gentle smile, he reassured them, "I promise, I''m okay. If this were the end of the world for me, I wouldn''t be here enjoying Mom''s stew and mashed potatoes."


    Harry exhaled a quiet breath of relief, though a flicker of guilt still remained in his eyes. Their father, sensing the shift in mood, decided to steer the conversation in another direction.


    "Richard, now that you''ll be home more often, maybe you could help out around the house a bit?" Bryan suggested, setting down his newspaper.


    Richard chuckled. "Of course, Dad. Just don''t ask me to lift anything heavy¡ªI don''t want to give Mom a heart attack."


    Anna laughed as she ladled stew into their bowls, shaking her head. "Oh, please. You boys act like I''m fragile."


    Dinner went on with easy conversation¡ªtalk of the neighborhood, everything that had happened while he was unconscious, and the usual family chatter.


    His mother fussed over his portions, making sure he ate enough, while Bryan casually slipped an extra slice of bread onto his plate when he wasn''t looking. It was a simple dinner, but it felt like home.


    For the first time since his injury, Richard felt at peace.


    The house they lived in was modest, with only three bedrooms¡ªone for Bryan and Anna, one for Harry, and one for Richard. It wasn''t spacious, but it was home. Every creaky floorboard and faded patch of wallpaper held years of memories.


    Richard stepped into his room and let out a quiet sigh. Everything was just as he had left it¡ªthe small bed pushed into the corner, the wooden desk by the window, and the old wardrobe that never quite closed properly.


    He shut the door behind him and sat at his desk. The air inside was damp and cold, and the single-glazed window had dark stains creeping along the edges¡ªsigns of moisture seeping through over the years.


    Damp stains like these were common in council housing. Poor insulation, narrow layouts, and steep staircases were all typical of these homes.


    He remembered being barely six years old when a government official stood on a stage, explaining how families could apply for housing.


    Housing charities had long blamed the deteriorating conditions on a lack of investment in social housing.


    In response¡ªor perhaps to quiet public dissatisfaction¡ªthe government had pledged to build more affordable homes. That promise led to the construction of council houses and flats.


    The choice between a house and a flat came down to affordability.


    Those who wanted more space and a small kitchen could opt for a standalone or terraced house. But even with government discounts, many families either couldn''t afford one or hesitated to spend the extra money.


    For them, flats were the better option¡ªcheaper, though smaller and more cramped. They were part of larger buildings, similar to apartment blocks, but priced at just ¡ê30 at the time, making them far more accessible.


    As a result, nearly 90% of people chose flats, leaving many council houses sitting empty. That''s why he had said earlier¡ªit felt too empty, too vacant.


    Thanks to his father''s decisive action at the time, he had immediately purchased a three-bedroom house, making life at least a little easier for the Maddox family. It proved especially valuable in moments like this¡ªwhen Richard needed privacy.


    What he was about to do might shock his family if they saw him.


    ¡ê15,000.


    That was all he had¡ªhis salary, compensation, and savings from his football career. Now, he was left with one pressing question: how to stretch that ¡ê15,000 as far as possible in the shortest amount of time.


    With that thought, Richard reached for the newspaper he had borrowed from his father.


    He had already been informed about what happened while he was unconscious.


    After the sickening collision, the thing that truly stunned him was another tragedy that occurred shortly after. It seemed as if his soul was somehow tethered to the moment, so close to the event that he had missed it.


    However, the result of it left him completely shocked. English teams were banned from participating in European football competitions for five years!


    What was meant to be a night of European glory turned into a tragedy that shook the footballing world. A large-scale riot broke out, and chaos followed. English football faced one of its darkest moments¡ªthe Heysel Stadium disaster.


    The disaster was blamed on hooliganism, mistakes by officials, and structural issues with the stadium. The consequences were severe. In response to the tragedy, UEFA imposed a blanket ban on all English clubs from participating in European competitions for five years, with a special additional ban for Liverpool, extending it to six years.


    Richard scanned the newspaper, flipping through pages filled with outrage, analysis, and political rhetoric. Even until now, people were still talking about it.


    He shook his head. Despite the differing opinions, the media''s goal was the same¡ªto assign blame.


    This was more than just a sporting crisis; it had become a political issue. The government, desperate to restore order, sought scapegoats, and the cycle of accusations was relentless.


    Uninterested in the endless debate, Richard turned the page, his eyes finally landing on the section he had been searching for.


    [...Mirror Sport: Copa Mundial de F¨²tbol M¨¦xico ''86 ¨C Here we go!...]

 Chapter 4 - 4: Bet

    Betting.


    This wasn''t a difficult to think of. The World Cup was about to begin, and this tournament would go down as one of the most iconic in football history.


    For the 1986 World Cup, the British Isles sent three representatives¡ªNorthern Ireland, England, and Scotland¡ªeach determined to make their mark on the world stage.


    The format had changed once again. For the first time since 1970, the second round returned to a knockout system, where the six group winners, six runners-up, and the four best third-placed teams would advance.


    Football fever had gripped the nation. The Britain was obsessed with the World Cup, especially after fans were eager to see England excel at the competition, hoping to show the world that banning English teams from the three main tournaments was a loss for Europe and the world alike!


    News about the tournament dominated the media. As someone who had witnessed the event firsthand¡ªeven if from the perspective of a ghost¡ªRichard knew exactly what was coming and that was why this World Cup was the perfect opportunity to bet.


    A tournament of drama and legend¡ªfrom the controversy over why Mexico hosted instead of Colombia, to the new format and teams, the intense group stage battles, and finally, the infamous "Hand of God"¡ªthis World Cup was one for the ages.


    If there was ever a moment to take a gamble, this was it.


    After going through the list of competing nations and writing down everything he could remember, Richard was done. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against the table as he stared at his notes.


    He didn''t have unlimited funds¡ªonly ¡ê15,000.


    That meant every move had to be calculated, precise. However, he also knew that his memory wasn''t perfect. The most crucial thing was to test whether the events he had witnessed as a ghost would truly unfold as he remembered.


    With caution in mind, Richard decided to start by betting ¡ê10,000. Instead of playing it safe with favorites, he would take a different approach¡ªplacing his bets on teams that were underestimated, the ones no one expected to go far.


    His choices?


    The Soviet Union and Morocco.


    Both teams were overlooked, dismissed as unlikely to make an impact. But Richard knew better. If his memory served him right, they would surprise everyone. With his preparations complete, he set his notes aside, exhaled deeply, and climbed into bed.


    Tomorrow, he would put his plan into motion. As he closed his eyes, a single thought lingered in his mind.


    ''If this works, everything changes.''


    Betting on football matches is hugely popular in the UK, especially on a grand stage like the World Cup.


    After all, William Hall and Ladbrakes¡ªboth giants in the betting industry¡ªare British companies, making football wagering a common pastime.


    While West and Central London had the largest concentration of betting shops, North, South and East wasn''t far behind.


    Several well-established gambling firms had a presence in the city, though their branches were smaller and less extravagant. Still, they were easily accessible, allowing football enthusiasts to place their bets without much trouble.


    Arriving at the William Hill betting station on Streatfield Road, Richard took a deep breath before stepping inside.


    The atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Men¡ªmostly middle-aged or older¡ªwere gathered around newspapers, studying match fixtures and odds with serious expressions.


    Some scribbled notes on betting slips, while others lingered near the counters, discussing potential outcomes in hushed voices before placing their wagers.


    Richard scanned the upcoming fixtures. The first match that caught his eye: Bulgaria vs. Italy.


    His excitement spiked. This was the perfect opportunity to test his knowledge. Wasting no time, he checked the odds.


    The most basic betting options were straightforward: Team A to win, Draw, or Team B to win.


    When his eyes landed on the listed odds, a smile crept onto his face.


    Italy to Win ¨C 1:1:2


    Bulgaria to Win ¨C 1:10


    The odds told a clear story. If you bet ¡ê1 on Italy, you would win ¡ê2 (plus your original ¡ê1 back). On the other hand, if you bet ¡ê1 on Bulgaria and they pulled off an upset, you would win ¡ê10 (plus your original ¡ê1 back).


    It wasn''t surprising¡ªItaly was heavily favored. Serie A was still one of the most dominant leagues in the world, producing some of the finest players.


    The general expectation was that Italy would win comfortably. But Richard wasn''t here to follow the crowd.


    He had other plans.


    His eyes drifted toward the draw odds¡ª1:3. If his memory was right, this match wouldn''t have a winner.


    He filled out his betting slip with steady hands, carefully writing: Bulgaria vs. Italy ¨C Draw ¨C ¡ê150.


    Sliding it across the counter along with the cash, he watched as the bookmaker, a gruff-looking man with tired eyes, took it, glanced at him, then stamped the slip with a dull thud.


    "A draw, huh?" the bookmaker muttered, arching an eyebrow. "Most are backing Italy. You sure about this, lad?"


    Richard simply nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "Just a gut feeling."


    The bookmaker gave a small shrug, handing back his betting receipt. "Well, best of luck. Could be an easy payday if you''re right."


    Richard pocketed the slip and stepped back, exhaling slowly. Now, all he could do was wait.


    The next day, Richard returned to the William Hill, his hands tucked into his pockets as he walked through the morning bustle of London. Just as he had expected, Bulgaria vs. Italy had ended in a draw.


    The final whistle had confirmed it¡ªhis first bet was a success.


    Pushing open the door, he stepped inside. The atmosphere was much the same as the day before¡ªmen hovered over newspapers, muttering about results, some celebrating small wins, others lamenting their losses.


    Richard approached the counter and handed over his betting slip to the same bookmaker from the previous day.


    The man barely glanced at it before stamping it, pulling out a wad of cash, and counting the notes. He then slid ¡ê600 across the counter¡ª¡ê450 in winnings, plus the original ¡ê150 stake.


    "Looks like you had a good feeling after all," the bookmaker remarked.


    Richard took the cash without much reaction, tucking it into his pocket and giving a small nod. "Guess I did."


    The bookmaker smirked. "Well, let me know if you get another ''gut feeling'' like that."


    But Richard didn''t take the bait. He wasn''t here for small talk¡ªhe was playing it safe. Without a word, he turned and walked out, heading toward his next target¡ªLadbrakes.


    Rather than relying on a single betting company, he planned to spread his wagers across multiple bookmakers. He would distribute them across two or three well-known firms.


    This would help him minimize risk and more importantly, avoid drawing too much attention to himself. With ¡ê15,600 in hand, Richard was ready for his next move.


    This time, he wasn''t just placing simple bets on match outcomes¡ªhe was thinking bigger. His strategy? An automatic accumulation bet.


    Rather than placing a single wager on the Soviet Union and Morocco to qualify from their respective groups, he opted for an accumulator-style bet.


    This meant that instead of betting directly on their advancement, his wager would roll over automatically, match by match, compounding his potential winnings.


    The advantage was clear: if both teams performed well, each successful bet would multiply his earnings instead of cashing out after every match. A single win wouldn''t mean much, but if the results lined up, the final payout could be massive.


    Of course, this approach carried significant risk.


    Neither the Soviet Union nor Morocco was expected to dominate their groups, and they wouldn''t win every game. But that was precisely why Richard liked this bet¡ªit was concealed within a mix of results, making it less obvious.


    Once his bets were placed, Richard had no intention of returning after every match to collect winnings. That would only draw unnecessary attention. Instead, he would wait until the group stage was over. Only then would he return¡ªif everything went as planned.


    In the days that followed, Richard settled into a quiet routine. During the day, he helped his mother around the house, but in the evenings, he made his way to a nearby pub to watch the World Cup matches.


    By now, his hypothesis was confirmed¡ªwhat he had seen in the future was real. Every match, every result unfolded exactly as he remembered.


    His gains were massive.


    As the group stage progressed, Richard decided to get his father and brother involved, casually suggesting that they place small bets for fun¡ªjust enough to make the games more exciting. His father hesitated, ever the cautious man, but Harry, who had just landed a job, was a little more open to the idea. S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In the end, they agreed, but only in moderation. His father put in ¡ê30, while Harry added ¡ê15, both warning Richard not to get too carried away or start believing in easy money.


    Richard nodded instantly. He wasn''t about to argue¡ªafter all, things at home had only just begun to improve.


    His brother had secured stable employment, and for the first time in a long while, there was a sense of normalcy after Richard''s recovery.


    For them, betting was nothing more than harmless fun¡ªa small indulgence in the excitement of the World Cup. More importantly, they saw it as a way to keep Richard''s mind off his injury. If his little obsession kept his spirits up, then so be it. If it ever got out of hand, they would step in.


    After the group stage concluded, Richard returned home feeling refreshed, a thick wad of cash in hand. His success rate was unmatched¡ªhe had outperformed nearly every other bettor.


    His bets had been a masterstroke, backing underdogs and securing incredible odds:


    Soviet Union 6¨C0 Hungary - odds 3:1


    France 1¨C1 Soviet Union - odds 1:25


    Soviet Union 2¨C0 Canada - odds 1:2


    Morocco 0¨C0 Poland - odds 1:6


    England 0¨C0 Morocco - odds 25:1


    Portugal 1¨C3 Morocco - odds 20:1


    Even the bookmakers was taken aback by his winning results.


    Nearly all of his bets had hit, and the fact that he had backed unpopular teams made it even more surprising. However, they didn''t mind too much¡ªif anything, they saw an opportunity.


    Rather than being upset, they considered promoting his success as an example to encourage others to place riskier bets.


    Against this backdrop, Richard felt at ease as he cashed out his winnings. After all, what he had earned came from the losses of other bettors.


    Naturally, as elite bookmakers, they were still making money¡ªespecially with frequent upsets of the results, most gamblers suffered huge losses. Speaking of it, conspiracy theories about match-fixing surely thrived at times like this.


    Still, when Richard went to cash out, the bookmakers were like wolves¡ªthey weren''t about to let a high-roller like him walk away so easily.


    They tempted him to stay, subtly nudging him toward betting again in the knockout stage. Some even teased him with the promise of better odds if he continued wagering.


    "Don''t worry," Richard said as he patted his chest. "I''ll be back¡ªand I''ll double my money."


    Only then did they finally let him walk out easily, satisfied with his promise to return.


    Richard took the money with a grin, retreating to his room to count his winnings in private. From his initial ¡ê15,000, his journey had been nothing short of remarkable.


    It all started with a ¡ê450 win from the Italy vs. Bulgaria match. From there, he split his remaining funds, placing ¡ê7,700 each on the Soviet Union and Morocco, leaving ¡ê50 aside for transportation and pocket money.


    Now, after the group stage had ended, his total winnings stood at a staggering ¡ê223,300!


    Richard dashed into the living room, only to find his father and older brother looking utterly dejected. Unlike him, they had bet on England. Their mistake lay in Group F¡ªthey had assumed both Portugal and England would advance.


    After Portugal''s shocking victory over England in the opening match, many believed they were on course to qualify. However, two consecutive losses sent them packing instead. Fortunately, they had only bet on England reaching the knockout stage.


    Had they gotten greedy and shifted their bets to Portugal, things could have gone very differently. Thankfully, they stayed loyal to the Three Lions. Still, even though they had nearly broken even, they still felt like losers¡ªdisappointed by England''s performance.


    "Give me the pen!" Harry, frustrated, snatched the pen from Richard''s hand and quickly scribbled down England''s name on the betting sheet. With a determined look, he handed it back. "There''s no way England loses to Paraguay!"


    Bryan hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement, then followed suit, writing down England''s name on his own sheet.


    Richard sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.


    Betting on England again?


    But after thinking it through, he relaxed. England should win this one. Still, after this, he''d have to put a stop to their blind faith in England¡ªbefore they ended up losing everything.

 Chapter 5 - 5: Housing Survey

    "Ah, you''re back," the bookmaker said, eyeing Richard''s betting slip. "So, what is it this time? Another wild punt on the dark horses?"


    Richard slid the slip across the counter. "Argentina."


    The bookmaker blinked. "Argentina?" He picked up the slip and gave it another glance, as if expecting more names. "That''s it? Nothing else?"


    Thinking about it for a moment, Richard decided to put a small sum of money on Denmark, the dark horse, as they were set to face Spain.


    After that, Richard shrugged. "Yeah, everything''s set."


    The bookmaker frowned. "No love for the Soviet Union? Morocco?" A smirk tugged at his lips as he tried to bait Richard into another bold move. "C''mon, kid, don''t tell me you''ve lost your nerve."


    Richard chuckled, shaking his head. "You''re joking, right? This is the Round of 16. The odds of them pulling it off now are next to nothing."


    The bookmaker let out a sigh, clearly disappointed. This was the same young man who had defied logic in the group stage¡ªbetting big on the Soviets and Morocco when no one else dared.


    "Shame," the bookmaker muttered, stamping Richard''s slip and handing it back. "Guess you''re playing it safe this time."


    Richard took the slip, tucking it neatly into his wallet. He smirked. "Safe doesn''t mean losing."


    The result was expected¡ªArgentina won, and Denmark lose, increasing his ¡ê223,300 to ¡ê283,000.


    The England vs. Paraguay match was equally satisfying. A 3-0 victory not only strengthened England''s campaign but also left his father and brother pleased with their earnings.


    Buoyed by their success, they were eager to bet on England again. But this time, Richard strongly objected, warning them that the stakes were getting too high.


    "But Argentina can''t beat England," his brother argued.


    Richard was momentarily speechless before shaking his head. "Who says that? Argentina has Maradona! Why wouldn''t they make it to the semifinals?"


    "But we have Lineker."


    "And Argentina has Valdano, Pasculli, Burruchaga, Giusti¡­ the list goes on. Both teams are strong, but Argentina is still the favorite."


    "But¡ª"


    "Harry," Richard interrupted sharply. "Football isn''t politics."


    If his brother truly believed that the Falklands War from four years ago would make Argentina submit on the pitch, he was sorely mistaken.


    From the early 1900s to the late 2010s, South America¡ªespecially Brazil and Argentina¡ªhad consistently produced some of the greatest footballing talents in history.


    Harry fell silent, a flicker of doubt crossing his face.


    Sensing his hesitation, Richard took a deep breath and gently suggested, "Brother, maybe it''s time to stop."


    To his relief, their father agreed. Bryan stood up and spoke firmly, "Alright, we''ve made a decent profit. It''s time to quit while we''re ahead and focus on more important things. Harry, you have work tomorrow, don''t you?"


    "Yeah, I do, Dad."


    "And Richard, have you thought about what you want to do once you''ve fully recovered?"


    Richard nodded. "I think I''ll continue my vocational school."


    "Then you should start studying for the entrance exams too."


    "Yes, Dad," Richard answered obediently.


    "Good. Then both of you, go to your rooms. No more discussions about betting from now on. Understood?"


    "Yes, Dad," the brothers replied in unison, though both were still reluctant to let go of their earlier debate about which team was stronger.


    As Richard turned to leave, he glanced at his father''s back and silently apologized. ''Sorry, Father... I had to lie.''


    The next day, Richard made his way to William Hall on Streatfield Road, just as he had done before. Approaching the counter with a casual demeanor, he slid his betting slips forward.


    The bookmaker''s eyes lit up instantly. ''not bet on England?''


    Richard placed a sizeable wager on Argentina¡ªa logical choice, given their strong form. But mixed within were a few unexpected picks: a modest sum on Mexico and Spain, and a hefty bet on France!


    France, of all teams. No one expected them to beat the mighty Brazil, the tournament favorites.


    The bookmaker grinned with excitement. This was exactly what they had been waiting for. And it was exactly the reaction Richard wanted!


    After his previous streak of success, the bookmakers had started keeping a closer eye on him. Winning too often would eventually lead to restrictions¡ªsmaller betting limits or, worse, an outright ban. He needed to throw them off.


    These bets were placed with the sole intention of losing money. They were carefully chosen losses, calculated to create the illusion of recklessness. By mixing in bold, unlikely picks, he made himself look like just another gambler chasing high-risk payouts.


    Once he was done, he pocketed his remaining slips and walked out of William Hall, heading toward another betting station to repeat the process.


    After finishing his bets, Richard wandered through Islington, taking in the familiar sights and reflecting on its history.


    Originally a rural village on the outskirts of London, Islington had grown into a thriving residential area during the medieval period, prized for its fresh water supply and open fields.


    But like many inner-city areas, Islington had suffered through economic decline, and bomb damage during World War II. Over time, traditional industries moved out, many local shops disappeared, and the population declined.


    Post-war modernization had done more harm than good. Historic terraced houses had been demolished or hastily renovated. Warehouses and office spaces sprang up without proper planning. Social housing projects, intended to revitalize the area, had only led to more disrepair.


    Rather than breathing new life into the neighborhood, these efforts only made things worse. Many of the newly renovated terraces fell into disrepair, and much of the new housing developments were abandoned before they were even fully occupied.


    To address the growing number of vacant properties, the government had introduced the Right-to-Buy policy, allowing council tenants to purchase their homes at a discount. Yet, despite these incentives, many homes remained abandoned¡ªdecaying and unwanted.


    Flats became the preferred choice over houses because they were cheaper and offered a better sense of security. A locked main entrance and living several floors up provided a psychological and physical barrier that a standalone house simply couldn''t.


    The biggest challenge Islington faced was how to attract the "elites" and businesses to the borough, especially after disastrous plans for the eight-lane motorway and an Old Street-style roundabout¡ªhad nearly torn the borough apart before being scrapped.


    Once these plans were scrapped, the focus shifted to rebuilding and preserving what was left. However, careless architecture and reckless landlords eager to demolish historic buildings remained a threat.


    Richard already had a plan for it. Islington''s biggest trump card was its history and central location.


    "All of this will change next year," Richard mumbled unknowingly.


    The Big Bang was coming.


    A landmark agreement between the government and the London Stock Exchange was set to transform the financial sector, deregulating markets and opening the floodgates for foreign investment.


    For the first time, global banks and investment firms would be able to set up in the City without restrictions. The result?


    An influx of wealth, new businesses, and an unprecedented demand for prime real estate¡ªincluding places like Islington, where entire streets had been neglected for years.


    With money pouring in, derelict warehouses and rundown council estates, combined with the Right-to-Buy policy, made redevelopment inevitable. Islington next year would become a property hotspot.


    "What?! You want to buy all the houses? How old are you?"


    The official sitting across from him¡ªa man in his thirties with thinning hair and a skeptical expression¡ªstared at him in disbelief.


    Buying property in Islington wasn''t straightforward. If a house was still under council ownership, Richard had to go through Islington Council Housing. If it had already been sold, he''d need to negotiate directly with the owners or use a third party.


    But Richard wasn''t asking for just one or two houses. He wanted every available property. The official eyed him suspiciously.


    "You do realize how much these houses cost, right?" His brow furrowed. "Even if they''re in poor condition, they''re still well above what most people can afford."


    Areas like Packington Estate, Bemerton Estate, and the neighborhoods around Finsbury Park and Holloway had houses available¡ªmany of them unoccupied and in need of renovation.


    Alongside these, vacant offices and abandoned warehouses presented further opportunities for acquisition. If approached strategically, these properties could be secured at a bargain before the market caught on to their true potential.


    Richard leaned forward. "Sir, I''m an ex-footballer. With the money I''ve earned, I decided to invest."


    The official stared at him for a moment, then scoffed. "Can you prove it?"


    Verifying a buyer''s identity and financial standing was standard procedure. In the 1980s, there was no national ID system in the UK, so most people used a National Insurance (NI) card or the Electoral Register. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard provided his details without hesitation. The official scanned them, then abruptly stopped. His eyes widened as he looked up, his expression shifting from doubt to realization.


    "Wait¡­ y-you''re that Richard Maddox?"


    Richard had expected this reaction. He gave a small, wry nod.


    The man''s skepticism vanished, replaced by excitement. He quickly stood up and shook Richard''s hand. "My name is Stuart Olm. Nice to meet you! God, I heard about your injury! Are you sure you''re okay?"


    "Well, I''m standing right in front of you, aren''t I?"


    Before he could say more, Stuart turned and called to his colleagues. "Oi! You won''t believe who''s here! Richard Maddox from Sheffield Wednesday!"


    Suddenly, Richard was surrounded.


    "Did it hurt?"


    "How long was your recovery?"


    "Are you coming back to football?"


    "Can I get an autograph?"


    The room was a chaotic whirlwind of voices until¡ªuntil a single cough silenced everyone.


    "Ehem."


    The once-animated employees froze, quickly retreating to their desks.


    Someone important had arrived.


    Richard wasn''t sure who, but judging by the sudden shift in atmosphere, he guessed it was a senior one¡ªpossibly the head or something. After a brief exchange of pleasantries¡ªquestions about his health, career, and future plans¡ªthe newcomer nodded, allowing Richard to proceed with Stuart


    "Phew, that was intense," Stuart muttered as things settled down.


    "Was that your boss?" Richard asked.


    "For housing? Yeah. That was the head of the main department." Stuart exhaled. "Anyway, let''s get back to business."


    Buying multiple properties came with strict regulations. The council needed to verify Richard''s eligibility, intent, and financial capacity. They checked for past property purchases, outstanding debts, and legal issues.


    "You really believe property values here will rise, don''t you?" Stuart asked, studying him. "And you''re willing to take on full maintenance responsibilities?"


    Richard nodded. "Yes. I''ll handle everything once I finalize the purchase."


    "Hmm¡­" Stuart tapped his fingers on the desk. "Wait here for a moment."


    Richard leaned back, confident. There was no way they''d reject his offer.


    He''d even agreed to cover the repair costs. Even if he only restored the exteriors¡ªfixing the plaster, repainting, and improving brickwork¡ªit would still be a major improvement for the area.


    More importantly, he was local.


    Public objections and political concerns were always factors in bulk property sales, but his connection to the borough worked in his favor.


    A short while later, Stuart returned, carrying a thick stack of documents.


    "Alright," Stuart said, setting the documents down. "You must live in the property or remain the owner for at least three years before you can transfer ownership. Do you agree?"


    "What if someone wants to buy the building before the three years are up?" Richard asked.


    Stuart chuckled, amused. ''Who would want to buy houses here?''


    Still, he remained professional. "If it''s the council, they can buy it back directly. But if it''s a private buyer, you''ll need authorization from the council before making the sale."


    "Oh, sure," Richard nodded.


    "The next thing I want to tell you is that since you''ve committed to repairs and modernization, we can offer some flexibility¡ªespecially if you''re considering taking out a loan or something similar. Also, just so you know, we''ll be dispatching an inspector to assess the renovations. If everything meets the required standards, we may be able to offer you additional concessions. How does that sound?"


    Richard smiled. "That sounds perfect. Please proceed with the process."

 Chapter 6 - 6: All in

    On the day of the England-Argentina clash, the nation was left in stunned silence as England suffered a 1-2 defeat, ending their World Cup campaign.


    First, they were in shock of Maradona''s miraculous solo goal, then outraged by the infamous "Hand of God" goal, which sparked vehement criticism and controversy.


    Back home, Richard found his father and brother sitting in the kitchen, drinking in complete silence, their dejection palpable.


    As Richard was about to head to his room, his mother whistled softly to get his attention.


    "Shh."


    He stopped, looking at her curiously. "What''s wrong, Mom?" he asked.


    His mother lowered her voice to a whisper. "Are you hungry? How about your studies?"


    Richard gave her a puzzled look before whispering back, "Why are we whispering? What''s going on?"


    She gestured toward his father and brother. "Don''t you see them? Don''t mention it now. Anyway, how''s your vocational school?"


    What vocational school? Richard hesitated.


    There was no way he could tell her that instead of searching for school and attending classes, he had been betting on the World Cup and buying up houses in the neighborhood.


    In the end, he simply replied, "It''s fine, Mom."


    His mother sighed in relief. "That''s good, that''s good. Use your money wisely, alright? Education comes first¡ªthis is for your future."


    Richard forced a smile and nodded. "I understand, Mom."


    He facepalmed internally, knowing he had no choice but to obediently go along with her expectations.


    The next day unfolded like any other. Richard placed his bets¡ªthis time on Argentina and West Germany.


    Across the counter, the bookmaker at William Hill smirked as he watched Richard hand over his money.


    "Still playing it safe, kiddo?"


    Richard''s lips twitched at the way he was being addressed, but he chose to ignore it.


    The bookmaker, on the other hand, was secretly pleased. Finally, he could teach this cocky young man a lesson. Richard had been on a winning streak for too long, and now, luck had turned against him.


    Sure, his winnings from Argentina''s victory still covered his losses, but at least there was no more unstoppable streak. Finally, the kid had lost some money.


    After placing his bets, Richard continued his property search.


    This time, however, he wasn''t looking at council-owned housing. Instead, he shifted his focus to privately owned properties¡ªhomes, buildings, warehouses¡ªanything that had potential.


    His first stop was a real estate agency. They went through the listings together, discussing pricing, locations, and potential renovations. If a property looked promising, Richard negotiated on the spot¡ªpushing for a lower price or asking about seller flexibility.


    He wasn''t just after houses. If the agent mentioned a warehouse, an office space, or a rundown shop, Richard took interest.


    As the meeting went on, the agent''s initial skepticism faded. He could tell Richard was serious, well-funded, and willing to move fast¡ªa dream client in the property business.


    Richard left the agency with a list of potential properties and a few appointments to view them.


    His plan was in motion.


    Besides working with real estate agencies, Richard took a more direct approach¡ªone that required a bit more boldness. He thickened his skin and began knocking on the doors of occupied homes, knowing that not every property for sale would be listed officially.


    At first, his approach was met with suspicion and confusion.


    "You want to buy my house?" one homeowner scoffed. "Not for sale, mate."


    Another barely let him finish his sentence before shutting the door in his face.


    Most people weren''t looking to sell. That was until he mentioned the price.


    Money had a way of changing minds.


    When Richard made his offers, some homeowners paused. Others hesitated, glancing at their aging walls and leaking roofs, suddenly reconsidering.


    One man, an older gentleman with a cigarette in one hand and a skeptical expression, leaned against his doorframe.


    "You''re serious?" he asked, exhaling smoke.


    Richard nodded, his voice steady. "Cash offer. No delays. You name your price, we negotiate, and I''ll make it happen."


    The man scratched his chin, considering. He wasn''t planning to sell¡ªbut now, he was tempted.


    One by one, Richard closed the deals. Some required persuasion, some tough negotiation, and others simply needed time to make up their minds.


    By the time the World Cup ended, his efforts had paid off. He had convinced homeowners, real estate agents, and property owners alike.


    The agreements were signed¡ªall that was left was to finalize the payments. Houses, offices, warehouses, land, rundown shops¡ªeverything was secured. Now, it was just a matter of paying up.


    The day had finally arrived.


    With the finalists now decided, there was no need for further deliberation¡ªhe would continue to bet on Argentina.


    Richard''s total winnings currently stood at ¡ê1,226,333.


    France''s stunning victory over Brazil¡ªat odds as high as 10:3¡ªhad brought him a massive windfall. However, that amount had yet to be reduced by taxes and his concealed bet. As a result, the actual sum he could wager on Argentina was ¡ê1,005,963.


    Everything had played out just as he had hoped.


    The familiar jingle of the doorbell rang as Richard stepped inside. Behind the counter, the bookmaker glanced up¡ªand immediately did a double take. His eyes widened before a slow grin spread across his face.


    "Oh, you''re back again, kid?" He leaned forward on the counter, sizing Richard up.


    "Yes," Richard replied calmly, sliding a thick envelope across the counter. "All in."


    For a moment, the bookmaker just stared. Then, as realization dawned, he straightened up so fast his chair nearly tipped over. Clapping his hands together in sheer delight, he looked as if he might actually try to kiss the person in front of him. This kid was a goldmine.


    "How much this time?" the bookmaker asked, rubbing his hands eagerly.


    Richard crossed his arms. "What are the odds?"


    "1:1," the bookmaker replied. "But if you want to make things more interesting, we can offer double odds. Interested?"


    Richard raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How does that work?"


    "Glad you asked!" The bookmaker grinned. "If you can predict specific details¡ªlike who will score, the exact number of goals, or the score at halftime or full-time¡ªwe''ll boost your odds. Here, take a look."


    He slid a laminated brochure across the counter. Richard picked it up, scanning the fine print.


    "So, say I bet on Argentina to win with a score of two, my odds will be doubled?"


    "Exactly!" The bookmaker nodded eagerly. "You have my word." S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard tapped his fingers against the counter, thinking. "What if I predict Argentina will score three goals?"


    "Three goals without conceding?"


    "Are you insane? Three goals without reply?" Richard quickly waved his hands. "No, no, no. Just three goals¡ªfor Argentina."


    "Hmm." The bookmaker scrunched up his face like he''d just bitten into a lemon¡ªthoughtful, yet every now and then, his eyes peeked toward Richard, as if waiting for something.


    Only then did Richard realize¡ªthis guy was just putting on a show. They had already given him the double bet benefit, so now the question was: ''What was he going to give them in return?''


    Richard bent slightly and uttered in hushed tones, "A million."


    "Deal!"


    And just like that, the wager was locked in. But there was one more thing. A little favor.


    As one of their most loyal bettors¡ªsomeone who had stuck with William Hall from the start of the tournament all the way to the final¡ªthey wanted an interview.


    Mirror Sport and The Sun, William Hall''s media partners for the World Cup, had requested an exclusive.


    Richard scoffed. "If my mother finds out I used my retirement fund to bet, she''ll beat me senseless at home. So, what''s your deal?"


    ''Sorry, Mother,'' Richard quickly muttered in his heart.


    The bookmaker was momentarily speechless. Then, after a beat, he gave Richard a long, calculating look. Annoying as this kid was, his bets often went against the grain. And that was exactly what made him interesting.


    Most high-rollers played it safe, sticking to the favorites, hedging their bets with predictable patterns. But this guy? He had a knack for spotting dark horses before the odds swung in their favor. That kind of gambler¡ªthey made headlines. And headlines were good for business.


    According to the analysts, if they looked at the timing, about four percent of bettors placed their wagers after this kid walked in. A small number, sure¡ªbut considering this was only his first major bet, it was worth paying attention to.


    After weighing the pros and cons, the bookmaker finally said, "How about becoming our VIP?"


    "VIP?" Now this was interesting. "What''s in it for me?"


    "Better odds, exclusive bets, priority withdrawals. And of course, special invitations to high-roller events. Plus, for those who prefer not to cash out their winnings, we offer luxury item exchanges¡ªwatches, cars, vacations, you name it."


    Richard leaned back, pretending to consider it. In truth, the offer was tempting. But after a moment, doubt crept in.


    "Do I have to pay a monthly fee?"


    "Not exactly a monthly fee, but there''s a quota to meet, which means you need to place a certain number of bets to maintain your status," the bookmaker admitted.


    Richard sighed, disappointed. But at the same time, he didn''t want to miss out on this opportunity. After a brief pause, he gathered his courage and said, "Don''t you know me? I''m an ex-footballer. Can I get special perks?"


    He felt a little embarrassed saying it out loud, but what he didn''t expect was for the bookmaker to freeze.


    "Pardon me?"


    Richard cleared his throat. "I said, I''m an ex-footballer. Can I get special perks?"


    The bookmaker squinted at him. "You''re an ex-footballer? What, did you retire early or something?"


    "Yeah. Maddox. Richard Maddox. Ring any bells?"


    Something clicked in the bookmaker''s mind. Suddenly, it all made sense. No wonder people in the room kept sneaking glances at this kid. He had assumed it was because they were curious about his betting habits, but now?


    No wonder. No wonder.


    Richard Maddox. He had heard the name before. A rising star¡ªuntil he disappeared from the public eye over a year ago. Now, it was all starting to come together.


    "Please wait a moment."


    After waiting for a minute or two, the bookmaker returned. This time, he stepped forward and shook Richard''s hand enthusiastically.


    "Sir, welcome to our VIP program. My name is Fay Loan, and I am your dedicated personal manager."


    "Oh, so it worked?" Richard was elated.


    "Yes, sir. I already spoke with my direct supervisor and the higher-ups. Most of them are in favor of it and are also eager to see how this works out."


    "Just call me Richard," he said, waving his hand dismissively. Then, still unsure, he asked again, "But do I need to keep betting every month?"


    Understanding his concern, Fay explained, "So, Mr. Richard, here''s the deal. Our agreement only requires you to meet your quota during major football tournaments¡ªlike the World Cup, the Euros, or the First Division. You just need to place a bet, and that''s it. Simple, right?"


    "Is there a minimum bet amount?"


    "One hundred thousand dollars minimum. But given how much you''ve won already, that shouldn''t be a problem, right?"


    Richard exhaled deeply. A hundred thousand dollars? That was a big number, but considering his current performance... it wasn''t actually that bad.


    "Mr. Fay, thank you for your help." Richard quickly shook his hand in appreciation.


    "Hahaha, that''s okay, that''s okay! It''s my job." Fay grinned.


    Technically, his rank wasn''t high enough to be a dedicated personal manager. However, thanks to his smooth talking¡ªand the fact that he was the one who discovered Richard and convinced him¡ªhe had managed to persuade the higher-ups to approve his request.


    Now, Fay couldn''t help but dream. Maybe one day, he''d replace his direct supervisor¡ªor even the current head of this William Hall branch.


    "Alright then, Mr. Richard, shall we proceed with the bet on Argentina? One million?"


    "Yeah, please," Richard said with a nod.

 Chapter 7 - 7: Just One Share

    Just as Richard finalized his bet, a sharp knock on the VIP lounge door interrupted the moment. Fay turned and opened it, revealing two well-dressed journalists, their press badges gleaming under the casino lights.


    One was from The Sun, the other from Mirror Sport.


    "Mr. Maddox, a pleasure to meet you. I''m Daniel Ford from The Sun, and this is Mark Henshaw from Mirror Sport," Daniel introduced himself, offering a firm handshake.


    Richard nodded and shook their hands one by one. "So¡­ are we doing two separate interviews, or are you both asking questions at the same time?"


    Mark chuckled. "Good question. We''ll cover different angles, but we can do it together to save you time¡ªunless you''d prefer otherwise?"


    Daniel stepped forward first. "The Sun would like to focus more on your life outside of football¡ªwhat happened after your injury, how recovery has been, and what''s next for you. Would that be alright?"


    Richard thought for a moment. He had nothing to hide. "Yeah, that''s fine by me."


    He then turned to Mark from Mirror Sport. "And you?"


    Mark smiled. "Mirror Sport is more interested in your football journey¡ªyour rise through the ranks, your breakthrough into the first team, and of course, the injury that changed everything."


    Richard exhaled and nodded. "Alright, let''s do it."


    Both journalists readied their notepads and recorders, sensing that this would be a rare and valuable insight into the life of Richard Maddox¡ªthe once-rising star who had seemingly vanished from football.


    The interview will take place after the World Cup final.


    The lounge was everything Richard had imagined, a luxury lounge would be¡ªleather armchairs worn in all the right places, thick curtains muffling the noise from the world outside, and a polished wooden bar stocked with top-shelf spirits.


    A haze of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, curling lazily under the soft yellow glow of the overhead lights.


    ''As expected of William Hall. They really know how to treat their patrons,'' Richard thought, giving an approving nod.


    Around the room, a handful of well-dressed patrons lounged comfortably, sipping expensive whiskey and chatting in hushed tones.


    Based on how Daniel Ford from The Sun and Mark Henshaw from Mirror Sport were mingling with them, laughing and exchanging stories, it was clear these weren''t just regular bettors¡ªthey were probably "high-ranking" people.


    Then, Daniel clapped his hands to get everyone''s attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Richard Maddox, former Sheffield Wednesday player. Let''s give him a round of applause for his remarkable recovery!" S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For a split second, the room fell into a confused silence. But as the word "recovery" sank in, recognition sparked in the patrons'' eyes.


    Richard Maddox. The name that had disappeared from headlines over a year ago.


    Whispers rippled through the room. "That''s Maddox?" someone murmured. "I thought he was done for after that injury."


    "Shh, lower your voice," another person whispered.


    The last year had been a mystery to most¡ªRichard had vanished completely from the public eye after his career-threatening injury. Rumors had swirled, but no one knew the full story.


    Now, here he was, standing tall in the William Hall VIP lounge, casually sipping¡­ orange juice?


    The moment Richard raised his glass, a ripple of excitement spread through the lounge¡ªespecially among the madams.


    Their eyes lit up with recognition, some whispering behind manicured hands, still remembering that iconic form he had before his injury. The 1980s marked the rise of women becoming confident in expressing their style.


    Socialite women often balanced elegance with bold fashion¡ªthink shoulder pads, form-fitting dresses, sequins, and statement accessories, with a growing acceptance of more revealing or daring outfits.


    Even if their open-mindedness wasn''t as overt as it would become in later decades, they couldn''t help but shoot him admiring glances. Some even gave him a subtle once-over, eyeing him from head to toe.


    They remembered him on the pitch¡ªRichard tearing off his jersey, sliding across the grass, his perfectly sculpted V-shaped torso on full display. His raw athleticism, chiseled muscles, and defined abs had sparked envy among men and admiration from women.


    But now, after more than a year in recovery, the signs of change were subtle yet noticeable. His frame, though still tall and imposing at 6''0", seemed slightly softer around the edges. Still, his striking features hadn''t faded¡ªa sharp nose, strong jawline, and thick eyebrows that framed his piercing eyes. It was enough to make heads turn.


    The ladies exchanged knowing glances, their imaginations wandering, though not in the way one might expect.


    Despite his charm, the rumors about his injury had spread widely¡ªwhispers of how severe it had been, and how it had sidelined him for so long. Any thoughts of flirtation quickly gave way to a mix of curiosity and sympathy.


    At the center of it all sat an old but sturdy wooden cabinet TV, its curved glass screen flickering with the live broadcast of the 1986 World Cup Final¡ªArgentina versus West Germany.


    The image wasn''t crystal clear, and the occasional static lines buzzed across the screen, but no one cared. This was as good as it got.


    Richard sat comfortably in a deep leather chair, legs crossed, a tumbler of orange juice in hand. He appeared calm, almost too calm, given the million-pound bet riding on the outcome.


    Beside him, Fay was anything but calm. The bookmaker paced back and forth, his drink untouched on the side table.


    He kept glancing at Richard, who seemed far too relaxed for someone with so much at stake. ''Is this how high-rollers do it?'' he wondered.


    It seemed the mentality of a footballer compared to a common person when handling adrenaline was indeed different. Every time Maradona touched the ball, he would tense up, then let out a quiet, restrained cheer.


    He wanted Argentina to win¡ªnot out of love for Maradona or Argentina. No, he had his own reasons. This bet was his golden ticket. The more Richard bet, the higher his achievements¡ªand his commission¡ªwould climb.


    If Argentina pulled through, Richard would have a hefty payout, and the bets would keep rolling under his name. He couldn''t afford to lose this goldmine, not before he''d fully capitalized on it.


    "You think Argentina''s got this?" Suddenly, out of nowhere, Richard and Fay heard someone speak.


    They exchanged quick glances before turning around to see a distinguished-looking man dressed in a sharp three-piece suit, complete with gold cufflinks and a silk pocket square. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back neatly.


    Must be a rich man.


    "Mr. Swales," Fay muttered under his breath, immediately straightening his posture.


    The man offered Fay a brief handshake before turning his full attention to Richard. "You''re Richard Maddox, right? Sheffield Wednesday?"


    "Ex-player," Richard replied, raising his eyebrows in surprise as he extended his hand.


    "Peter Swales. Chairman of Manchester City," the man introduced himself, gripping Richard''s hand firmly. "Didn''t expect to bump into a Sheffield Wednesday legend here of all places."


    "Haha, you jest, Mr. Swales. What kind of legend can''t even make it past his twenties?" Richard chuckled bitterly, mocking himself.


    Peter Swales studied him for a moment, then asked carefully, "Really? No chance of a comeback?"


    Richard shook his head, the weight of that truth evident in his eyes.


    The other party sighed, clearly disappointed. He had hoped to scout fresh talent to bolster City''s squad, but it seemed this was a dead end.


    ''Shame,'' he murmured inwardly, his voice tinged with regret.


    "But Mr. Swales, all the way from Manchester to London just to watch football?" Richard asked skeptically.


    Swales chuckled heartily. "Haha, no way! I''m here on business. Got an invitation to this event, so I thought, why not? Kill two birds with one stone, right?"


    "Ah, that explains it,"


    They continued chatting about trivial things and sharing the occasional joke until their attention fully shifted to the television. The World Cup Final was hitting its peak.


    The lounge buzzed with excitement as the match reached its climax. In the 80th minute, the atmosphere shifted dramatically when West Germany''s Rudi V?ller scored the equalizer.


    People erupted in cheers¡ªnot out of loyalty to West Germany, but from the sheer thrill of the moment and, for some, as a bit of payback, considering Argentina had already knocked out England.


    Football fever had completely taken over the room. The game had become relentless¡ªwave after wave of attacks from both sides, each push for the decisive goal cranking up the tension to its peak.


    Swales leaned forward, his eyes glued to the screen. "With this momentum, West Germany looks unstoppable. Argentina''s in real trouble now," he declared, taking a sip of his scotch.


    "Not so fast," a familiar voice chimed in.


    Fay the bookmaker, Swales, and his friend all turned, surprised, to see Richard casually sitting nearby, his eyes still fixed on the screen.


    Peter Swales, a hardcore football fan, wasn''t annoyed by the interruption. In fact, he seemed delighted. It was the perfect opportunity to show off his football knowledge, especially with the ladies around. Plus, since Richard was an ex-football player, he figured he still had valuable insight into the game.


    "Oh, Mr. Richard, tell us then¡ªwhat do you have in mind?" Swales asked with a grin.


    Richard was momentarily taken aback. He hadn''t meant to speak out loud. He cursed himself for his carelessness¡ªa bad habit he''d picked up during his long, isolated days as a wandering ghost.


    He sighed inwardly before clearing his throat, deciding to roll with it. "Ah, Mr. Swales, I just mean Argentina still has the edge. After all, they''ve got Maradona."


    Swales chuckled, slightly amused. "Momentum is everything in football, don''t you think? Once a team starts rolling like this, it''s hard to stop."


    "But great players thrive under pressure. That''s when they shine. Maradona''s been pulling the strings all tournament, hasn''t he? He just needs one moment," Richard countered.


    Swales raised an eyebrow. "You think so? Football isn''t always about flair. It''s about who can keep their nerve when it counts."


    Richard clicked his tongue. Not always about flair? Don''t you see how Maradona has reached perfect chemistry with his teammates? Skills, mentality¡ªArgentina''s in complete harmony right now.


    Seeing Richard unconvinced, Swales decided to push further. A mischievous glint appeared in his eye. "Well then, how about we make this interesting? Care for a little wager?"


    Richard was momentarily thrown off. A wager?


    "Mr. Swales, with all due respect, you probably don''t know my situation, so there''s nothing I could possibly stake."


    He waved his hand dismissively. "Don''t sell yourself short. You probably just haven''t found another path yet¡ªbeyond being a footballer."


    81st minute¡ª


    "Is that so? Then I look forward to your guidance, Mr. Swales," Richard replied politely.


    "Haha! That''s the spirit! That''s it!" Swales laughed, his ego swelling with pride from the praise. He couldn''t help but want to solidify his prestige right there and then.


    Swales then leaned in. "How about this? If West Germany wins, you''ll come to Manchester City as our youth coach and help guide our young players. How does that sound?"


    Richard was now truly at a loss, unsure of how to respond.


    Swales had been mulling over Richard''s reputation. ''Why was Sheffield Wednesday producing local talent like him?''


    It had to be their youth system, their coach¡­ or perhaps Richard Maddox really was something special.


    Thinking about the large sums of money squandered on bad signings, a wave of frustration hit him. ''If only City had more money,'' he thought, ''they could''ve poached Sheffield Wednesday''s staff.''


    But for now, he hoped this young man could replicate that success at City¡ªmaybe even create another Richard Maddox.


    82nd minute¡ª


    "Becoming a youth coach?" Richard echoed, uncertain.


    "Yes, of course. And naturally, you''d get a monthly salary and all the facilities that come with the role. You understand why I''m offering this, right?" Swales said confidently.


    He glanced around at his colleagues, who looked at him in awe, basking in their admiration¡ªespecially as the wives cast subtle, approving glances. His pride swelled.


    "But Mr. Swales¡­ would that mean I''d have to move to Manchester?"


    "Of course," Swales replied firmly.


    Richard hesitated. His Islington acquisition plan was just starting to take shape¡ªhow could he manage that and coach in Manchester at the same time?


    He was about to decline when Peter Swales actually made an unexpected offer.


    "How about this¡ªour wager. You''re backing Argentina, right?"


    "Yes," Richard replied cautiously.


    "Then, if West Germany wins, you come to Manchester. But if Argentina wins¡­" He leaned in, a sly grin spreading across his face, "¡­I''ll give you one of my share. Just one. How does that sound?"


    Richard was stunned. Fay was stunned. Everyone was stunned.


    83rd minute¡ª


    ''You''ve gotta be kidding me, right?'' That''s what Richard wanted to say, but the words wouldn''t leave his mouth. His jaw simply hung open.


    "So, how about it? Become a youth coach or walk away with a Manchester City share," Swales pressed.


    ''Even if it''s just one¡­ it''s still¡­''


    Without even realizing it, his hand lifted to shake on the deal. Peter'' eyes lit up, and he grabbed Richard''s hand tightly.


    "DEAL!" He declared.


    84th minute¡ª


    Though Diego Maradona had been heavily marked by Lothar Matth?us, in a moment of brilliance, he found Jorge Burruchaga with a perfect pass.


    Burruchaga sprinted forward, slotting the ball past the advancing goalkeeper from the right and into the corner of the net.


    [...GOAL!!! Jorge Burruchaga!!!...]


    The commentator''s voice roared over the cheers.


    [...Burruchaga manages to slide the ball past the keeper! Argentina regains the lead¡ª3-2!...]


    "..."

 Chapter 8 - 8: Interview

    "Mr. Swales, I¡ª"


    "No need," Peter cut Richard off, waving his hand dismissively. "I''ll call my lawyer and handle all the invitation for the meetings."


    ''Are you pulling my leg?''


    There''s no way he''d take back what he just said in front of everyone. Besides, it was only a single share¡ªwhat could he even do with that?


    At best, it might get him an invitation to the meeting. And even then, no one would care if he showed up or not.


    Richard swallowed his doubts and, in the end, accepted the single share of Manchester City.


    The atmosphere was awkward for a moment, but it didn''t last. Peter Swales was a successful businessman¡ªwhat was one share to him? Soon, the conversation drifted back to Argentina vs. West Germany, as if nothing had happened.


    Everyone cheered and clinked their scotch and whiskey glasses. The winners got congratulations, while the losers looked dejected. After all, the Three Lions'' payback didn''t go as planned.


    The staff at William Hall''s Streatfield branch, who had made a fortune with most punters betting on West Germany, were happy. Their commission probably covered a month''s salary. The other person grinning was Richard, of course.


    The ¡ê1,005,963 he had bet at double odds had now become ¡ê2,011,926.


    After deducting the 9% tax and a 2.5% VIP service commission, he ended up with ¡ê1,780,554 in net winnings.


    Richard let out a deep breath, relief washing over him. Thank God I chose to pay the taxes and commission upfront. If I hadn''t...


    He would have regretted it so much.


    "Mr. Richard, I''ll be waiting for you in Manchester. Don''t forget, you''re now one of us, and you''ll need an introduction to the other board members. Even if it''s just a single share, it''s still a Manchester City share," Peter said seriously.


    "Understood, sir," Richard replied obediently.


    After that, the upper ranks boarded their Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, and Mercedes-Benzes, leaving Richard and Fay alone.


    "I guess congratulations are in order?" Fay said awkwardly.


    "For what?"


    "For becoming a Manchester City owner."


    "Hah, it''s still way too soon to call me that," Richard chuckled. "Alright, let me cash out my winnings. I''ve got plans for that money."


    "Wait, you''re forgetting something."


    "What do you mean?"


    "The interview!"


    Fay''s reminder snapped him back. Without wasting time, Richard and Fay headed to the public lounge, where Daniel Ford from The Sun and Mark Henshaw from Mirror Sport were waiting. Since they weren''t VIPs, they''d been watching the World Cup in a separate room.


    "Let''s get this interview started," Richard said, taking a seat.


    Interview with Richard Maddox ¨C Career and Injury


    By Mark Henshaw, Mirror Sport


    Mark Henshaw (Mirror Sport): "Richard, you were in your prime when your career suddenly ended. How have you come to terms with it now?"


    Richard: "I think, regardless of whether you retire at 35 or 36, you''ll always miss it. I mean, football was something I did my whole life, right? It''s hard to just let go. What can I say... it was unfortunate, but life has to go on, doesn''t it?"


    Mark: "Can you tell us what really happened that day?"


    Richard: "Yeah. I remember making sure I left two tickets for my mum and dad at the ticket office. I saw them sitting in the front row, and I thought, ''If I score today, I''m running straight to them.'' The game started positively for us. I was up against Dreyer and Langan¡ª1 vs 2, a tough battle, but my adrenaline was pumping. There were a few heavy tackles, good 50-50s, but nothing out of the ordinary. Then, six minutes in, it happened. We had a corner. The ball came in, I jumped to head it for a goal... and then I felt this force just crash through my skull."


    Mark: "That sounds horrific. How did you cope in the aftermath?"


    Richard: "The first three months were by far the worst. It was all about tiny milestones¡ªfirst, it was, ''Can I sit up in bed?'' Then, ''Can I walk again?'' It was a massive emotional challenge, not just for me but for my family too."


    Mark: "When did you realize the severity of the injury?"


    Richard: "I knew I had staples and metal plates in my head, but it wasn''t until about six months later that the doctors fully explained what they had done. It was so severe, they tried not to overwhelm me early on. Looking back, I don''t think I could''ve handled the truth at that time."


    Mark: "That must''ve been hard. What helped you push through?"


    Richard: "Funnily enough, being a footballer helped. I treated recovery like I would any challenge on the pitch¡ªone step at a time. It was about moving forward, no matter how slow the progress."


    Mark: "At what point did you know you had to retire?"


    Richard: "When the doctors told me that if I went back¡ªif I started heading balls again for even six months¡ªI could develop dementia or epilepsy by the time I was 28 or 29. They said it was a miracle I''d recovered as well as I had, but that playing again could cause irreversible damage. By the time I stood up to leave that meeting, I knew my career was over."


    Mark: "That''s heartbreaking. But looking at you now, you seem in a better place."


    Richard: "It doesn''t matter in the end, really. I''m grateful for what I have. Now I can do simple things I missed before¡ªlike going to family birthday parties on Saturdays, something I''d always miss because of matches. Physically, I''m okay. I can walk, run... and I just hope I find something I''m as passionate about as I was with football, something I can give 100% to again."


    Mark: "Richard, thank you for sharing your story. It''s inspiring to hear how you''ve handled everything."


    Richard: "Thanks, Mark. I appreciate it."


    After wrapping up the interview with Mark Henshaw from Mirror Sport, Richard didn''t waste a moment. There was no need for a break; the second interview was ready to begin.


    Interview with Richard Maddox - Life After Football


    By Daniel Ford, The Sun.


    Daniel Ford (The Sun): "Mr. Maddox, how are you doing right now? It''s been a year since you stepped away from football."


    Richard: "Well, I can say I''m still kickin''."


    Daniel: "Oh? Any plans for a comeback?"


    Richard: (laughing) "No chance. My mum and dad would beat me if I went back to the pitch! Haha."


    (Both laugh before the conversation shifts to his early football memories.)


    Daniel: "Let''s talk about the past. What first got you into football?"


    Richard: "One of my first memories is kicking a ball against a little wall. My mum and dad always said I carried a football with me everywhere I went."


    Daniel Ford: "So, what made you take that step into professional football?"


    Richard: (shaking his head) "Nothing really. When you''re a kid, you don''t think about careers¡ªyou just play. I''d rush home from school, grab my ball, and play until dinner. It was just pure love for the game."


    Daniel: "Can you tell us about the start of your career?"


    Richard Maddox: "I grew up in Islington, but for a year, my dad had work in Yorkshire, so we moved there. It was different from London, but I made friends quickly, and of course, we played football all the time. I joined my school''s football team, and about six months later, Sheffield Wednesday spotted me. Coach Adam saw me play during a school match and invited me to join their academy. I still remember when my dad got the call¡ªhe told me, and I was running around the living room, cheering. It was everything I''d ever wanted."


    Daniel: "Is that where you scored 70 goals in that local tournament?"


    Richard: (shrugs) "Yeah, that''s the one. A year later, I scored 42 goals for the under-18s, and I started thinking I might actually get a shot with the first team. I remember having a serious talk with the academy manager around that time."


    Daniel: "Any special words for Sheffield Wednesday?"


    Richard: "What can I say? A lot has changed since then. I could list so many things that affected me long after, things I sometimes forget. But it always felt like destiny to play for Sheffield. I''d be lying if I said there weren''t tough moments, but that''s football. Everything happens on the pitch. I was fortunate to play and grow with Sheffield Wednesday."


    Daniel: "Thank you for your time, Mr. Maddox. One last question¡ªsince you''ve hung up your boots, what''s next for you?"


    Richard: (smiling) "Well, that''s still up in the air. I''m exploring my options, but football will always be a part of my life in some way. Who knows?"


    Daniel: "We wish you the best, Richard. Thanks again."


    Richard: "Thanks, Daniel. Appreciate it."


    Interview end¡ª


    The interview wrapped up with firm handshakes and polite smiles.


    "Thanks for your time, Richard. I really appreciate it," Mark Henshaw said, closing his notebook.


    "No problem, Mark. It was good to talk," Richard replied with a nod.


    "Thank you, Richard," Daniel added.


    "You''re welcome, Daniel."


    As Mark and Daniel gathered their things and left, Richard took a brief moment, waiting until they were out of sight before turning his attention to Fay. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.


    ¡ê1,780,554


    Without wasting any more time, Richard called a taxi and headed straight to the Islington Council House to finalize the payment for the buildings he had purchased¡ªan overdue transaction he was eager to complete.


    As usual, Stuart¡ªthe same council officer who had helped him before¡ªwas there to assist, ready with the official documents.


    Richard reviewed the list of properties he was about to acquire:


    Terraced Houses: 30 units priced between ¡ê13,000 to 16,000


    Offices, Shops, and Pubs: 21 units ranging from ¡ê13,000 to ¡ê25,000.


    Warehouses, Garages, and Workshops: 41 units priced between ¡ê8,000 and ¡ê22,000.


    The total cost for purchasing all the buildings came to ¡ê1,428,600.


    After completing the payment, Richard carefully placed all the paperwork¡ªtitle deeds, payment confirmation contracts, and forms¡ªinto his father''s old leather briefcase, the same one he had used when they moved to Yorkshire years ago.


    Once everything was settled at the council, he visited the agents and each of the houses he had purchased, especially the ones already occupied, to finalize agreements with the tenants. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The man who had previously looked at Richard with skepticism was now packing up his belongings with his family, waiting for him to complete the payment. When he saw Richard carrying a large suitcase, he was speechless.


    "Are you moving in? Is the deal off? Let me tell you, even if you beg, I won''t return the deposit," the man warned.


    "No, no, you''ve got it all wrong," Richard replied, shaking his head. "These are just my clothes. My house is under renovation, and since this place will be renovated too, I thought I might as well move in temporarily."


    Even though the man didn''t fully understand, he clearly didn''t care.


    After completing the payments for all the occupied houses, Richard spent an additional ¡ê200,000, bringing his total expenditure to ¡ê1,628,600 in a single day!


    With ¡ê151,954 remaining, Richard set aside ¡ê100,000 for future repairs on the buildings along the main road, leaving him with around ¡ê51,954.

 Chapter 9 - 9: Real Estate Renewal and The Shock

    Arriving home, Richard struggled to pull the large suitcase up the front steps, his arms aching under the weight. But before he could even reach the door, there she was¡ªhis mother¡ªstanding in the doorway with her arms crossed, eyebrows arched, and a look that could pierce through steel.


    "Well, well, Mr. Richard Maddox," she began, her voice sharp and demanding. "Care to tell me what this is all about?" She placed one hand firmly on her hip, her eyes darting between him and the oversized suitcase.


    Richard let out a long sigh, already bracing himself for the inevitable questioning. "Mum, it''s not what you think," he replied, panting slightly from hauling the suitcase. "By the way¡­ could you, um, help me a little bit?"


    His mother glared at him for a moment longer, but when she saw her youngest son struggling and giving her that sheepish look, her expression softened¡ªjust a bit. Letting out a huff, she walked over and grabbed the other end of the suitcase.


    "You better have a good explanation for this, mister," she muttered as they both carried the suitcase inside.


    Once they set it down in the living room with a heavy thud, she wiped her hands on her apron and crossed her arms again. "Alright, now, Mr. Maddox," she said sternly. "Tell me¡ªare you really moving out? Because dragging a suitcase that big screams ''I''m leaving.''"


    Richard quickly shook his head. "No, no, of course I''m not moving, Mum," he reassured her. "But¡­ well¡­" He scratched the back of his head, trying to find the right words.


    "How about this? Can we wait until Dad and big bro get home? I''m honestly too exhausted to explain this twice. Plus, I think it''ll be easier to say it all at once."


    His mother narrowed her eyes at him, clearly still suspicious, but she sighed in defeat. "Fine," she agreed. "But you''d better not be in any kind of trouble, Richard Maddox. And don''t think for a second this conversation is over."


    Richard smiled, relieved. "Deal. And, um¡­ is there anything left from lunch, mom? I am starving." he asked, hopeful.


    She rolled her eyes but couldn''t hide the small smile creeping onto her face. "You''re lucky I made extra."


    "Told you I''m the favorite," Richard joked, flopping onto the couch.


    "Keep talking like that, and you''ll be having cold leftovers," she retorted, but her tone had softened now, the edge in her voice gone¡ªat least for now. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As night fell, a tense energy filled the Maddox household.


    Richard paced nervously around the living room, glancing at the clock every few seconds.


    His mother sat quietly nearby, watching him quietly. The moment Bryan and Harry walked through the door, Richard sprang into action.


    "Come on, both of you¡ªliving room, now!" he called, waving them over urgently.


    Bryan, still tired from a long day at work, blinked in confusion. "What''s going on? What''s this about?" he asked as he was pulled toward the living room.


    Harry kicked off his shoes, raising an eyebrow but following along without question.


    Richard stood awkwardly in front of them, his palms sweaty as he rubbed them against his trousers.


    "Alright¡­ Dad, Mum, Harry¡ªjust hear me out," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "I¡ªuh¡ªI need to tell you something. Actually¡­ a lot of things¡­"


    The room fell into a heavy silence, every eye fixed on him. Richard took a deep breath and launched into his story, starting from the very beginning.


    Then¡ªboom. When he finally finished, the room exploded.


    "WHAT?! Two million?!" they all shouted in unison.


    Anna looked pale. She clutched the edge of her armchair, her knuckles white. "All that money¡ª You¡­ you didn''t do anything illegal, right?" Her voice trembled, anxiety pouring out.


    Bryan leaned back, stunned. "Two million... Even if I worked every day of my life, I don''t think I''d ever see that kind of money." He shook his head in disbelief.


    Harry''s jaw dropped, but his shock quickly shifted into suspicion. His brow furrowed as he walked over and placed a firm hand on Richard''s shoulder.


    "Richard," he said in a serious tone, "be honest with me. You''re not mixed up in anything dangerous, are you? Drugs? Human trafficking? Something worse?"


    It was a natural reaction. What else could explain such an insane amount of money?


    Their minds raced through every worst-case scenario.


    "What? No! Of course not!" Richard shot back, exasperated. "You know me¡ªI''ve only ever cared about football. How would I even get involved in something like that?"


    Harry crossed his arms, not entirely convinced. "Then tell us, Richard. How did you get all that money?"


    Richard hesitated, his throat dry. He swallowed hard before finally speaking.


    "Alright... I''ll tell you everything."


    He confessed it all¡ªthe World Cup bet, becoming a VIP at William Hall, and even how he had been lying about looking for vocational schools, using that time instead to set up his money-making plan.


    When he finished, the room fell into stunned silence. No one knew what to say.


    "Oh my¡­" Anna gasped, placing a trembling hand on her forehead as if she might faint. Her face turned pale, and Richard panicked.


    "MOM!"


    But before he could reach her, Anna suddenly straightened up, as if nothing had happened, her eyes now locked on the large suitcase by the door.


    "Is the money in the suitcase? Is that why you borrowed your father''s briefcase?" she asked, her voice filled with sudden hope.


    Richard''s mouth twitched at the sudden burst of vitality.


    Her words also immediately caught Bryan and Harry''s attention. Both turned their heads toward the suitcase, their imaginations running wild.


    "Two million¡­" Harry whispered, eyes wide with excitement. "We''re a millionaire family now!"


    "No, we''re not," Richard muttered quickly, his nerves spiking again.


    The excitement in the room fizzled out in an instant.


    "Huh? It''s not the money?" Anna asked, her brows furrowing. "Then where is it? What''s in the suitcase?"


    Bryan and Harry exchanged skeptical glances, now eyeing Richard with suspicion, waiting for an explanation.


    "I¡ª"


    Richard swallowed hard. It felt like he was being watched by six pairs of eyes, each one sharp and ready to tear him apart. But the longer he hesitated, the bigger the problem would become. So, Richard decided to just come clean.


    Before he could finish his explanation, his body automatically slid to the side, leaning next to his mother, who had already slumped over.


    "MOM!"


    "Oh my. My son didn''t go for a vocational school, nor did he want to study. Instead, he gambled. Now he''s buying this useless house¡­ Oh, my head hurts."


    If not for the fact that there are screws and staples in his head, she would probably have already pulled his ear off in annoyance. Bryan and Harry stood there, speechless.


    Millions...!


    Just like that... But they were also completely confused by the situation.


    Why on earth would he buy so many buildings here?


    Didn''t he realize this area was undeveloped?


    Even supermarkets were too afraid to come here¡ªthis place was just chaotic. With all the buildings he now owned, if this is true, he could be called Islington''s little lord.


    Almost every building¡ªno, the entire housing complex¡ªseemed to be under his control. The only thing he hadn''t bought yet were probably the apartments.


    As someone with the most experience in the room, Bryan took a deep breath to calm his uneasiness. He asked patiently, "Son, can you explain why you''ve bought so many houses? Are you trying to bet on property?"


    Entering the property market was indeed lucrative, but it was also a risky game, especially if you didn''t fully understand the bigger picture.


    Bryan knew this. Anna knew this. Harry knew this.


    This was the game of the rich. They often heard people discussing it and saw the newspapers reporting on it, so they weren''t completely clueless.


    Richard wanted to say something, but in the end, nothing came out. He couldn''t defend himself. There was no way he could tell them, ''Mom, Dad, the houses will be worth more next year," or "The big bang is about to be announced!''


    No way, right?


    However, that was exactly why Richard had bought nearly every building here. The big bang is coming, and with the influx of money flooding in, everything is about to change.


    It''s all about the money¡ªso much money¡ªthat Islington is set to become the first property hotspot. In fact, this will lead to an influx of foreign banks into the Square Mile, with bankers eyeing homes in Islington''s elegant Georgian terraces and squares just up the road.


    Soon, estate agents were vying for space on Upper Street, which eventually earned the nickname "Supper St." later. This frenzy sparked a massive wave of office development in the City, where the growing demand for large trading floors transformed miles of derelict land into London''s new financial district.


    This shift encouraged more enlightened urban planning. Truth be told, it wasn''t just Islington. Richard had already planned everything meticulously.


    First, Islington¡ªthe desolate area, the great spiral of decay.


    Second, Exmouth Market in Finsbury, already declared a ghost town.


    Third, King''s Cross and St Pancras¡ªinfamous for their association with prostitution and drug abuse.


    He wanted to acquire property little by little, buying and selling, scalping the market. His first target? The bankers and financial institutions who would soon be eyeing Islington.


    Sighing, Anna could only regret that he had already spent the money. "Is the money all gone?" she asked quietly.


    "No, there''s still about fifty thousand left."


    "Then give it to me."


    "Ah?"


    "Yes, give it to me."


    "B-but why?"


    "Why? After your careless spending? Give it to me now!"


    Reluctantly, Richard handed over his ATM card. In the mid-1980s, ATM cards had already been introduced, but they were not as ubiquitous or advanced as today. They were mostly used for smaller withdrawals.


    "But my suitcase¡ª"


    "Forget the suitcase. No one cares about your useless house," Anna snapped, her frustration evident. She was fuming now.


    Richard''s heart pounded in his chest. Almost... almost...


    If he said he still had one hundred and fifty thousand, everything would fall apart. The money for the building repairs would be gone. Thankfully, he only mentioned there was fifty thousand left.


    "Yes, Mom," Richard said, trying to stay calm. Then, as he remembered something, he added, "Ah, by the way..."


    "What now?" Anna''s patience was running thin.


    "I need to go to Manchester this week. I have to meet someone."


    "Manchester? Why are you going all the way there?" Anna eyed him suspiciously.


    "Yeah, it''s about City. I... uh, how should I put it... I might be a shareholder?"


    "Hmm? What''s a shareholder?" she asked, clearly confused.


    However, Harry, who had been silent up until now, was shocked.


    "What?! You own a football club now?"


    Richard frantically waved his hand. "No, no, it''s just a small share. I can''t even attend the meetings. I''m just going there for an introduction."


    There was no way he was going to tell them it was just a single share¡ªit was too embarrassing.


    "Wait, Manchester City? Is that the team in the second division? The one from the same city as Manchester United?"


    "Yeah, that''s the one," Richard replied.


    "How could you have Manchester City shares? I''d rather buy Barnet or London Tigers!"


    Richard''s mouth twitched upon hearing the clubs Harry mentioned. "Well, I never thought I''d own a share in a football club either."

 Chapter 10 - 10: Attending the Meeting

    The next few weeks were a whirlwind for Richard.


    Every day felt like a race against time as he juggled plans, meetings, and endless site visits. Naturally, his top priority was finding contractors who could breathe new life into the tired, crumbling buildings he had hastily purchased in Islington.


    It wasn''t just about slapping on fresh paint¡ªthese places needed serious work. The row of office buildings lining the main road topped his list. Their exteriors were an eyesore¡ªwalls streaked with moss, flaking paint, and broken signage that made them look completely abandoned.


    Richard knew first impressions mattered, especially if he hoped to attract businesses or investors. ''If the outside looks promising, people might just take a peek inside,'' he told himself.


    For this, he reached out to the Islington Housing Council, hoping they could point him in the right direction. Fortunately, he was already in a good position¡ªhe had built a positive rapport with the council.


    At the very least, he was keeping his promise to renovate the buildings. And it wasn''t just one or two¡ªalmost every building along the main road was set for refurbishment, all funded from his own pocket.


    This dedication impressed the council, making them even more enthusiastic about helping. It didn''t take long before they connected him with several local contractors who were well-versed in the borough''s strict building regulations.


    Back to his personal life¡ªat home, things were... complicated. He kept his parents updated, but more out of obligation than choice.


    His father, Bryan, had long since stopped voicing his doubts, while Anna, his mother, never stopped nagging him.


    "If only you studied¡­ if only you used your money for something smarter¡­ if only¡ª" It was endless, and Richard was tired of hearing it.


    As for Harry, he had moved from shock to reluctant acceptance. They still thought he was in way over his head though, but what could they do?


    Their youngest son had already poured a fortune into these buildings.


    "This area''s a mess," Anna sighed one evening, staring out the window at the crumbling terraces across the street. "Even if you fix them up, who''s going to want to buy in a place like this?"


    Richard ignored her, focusing on his inspections and surveying which buildings needed the most urgent repairs. The neighborhood was rough¡ªgraffiti-covered walls, broken fences, overgrown lots, and streets that felt deserted more often than not.


    There was even a part of the area that most people had written off entirely as a lost cause. But that was exactly what he was banking on. If no one else could see the potential, he would be the first.


    After two long months of waiting, what Richard had been anticipating finally arrived¡ªan official invitation to Manchester City''s General Meeting.


    He carefully opened the envelope, reading the formal lines inviting him, as a shareholder, to attend. It felt surreal.


    Richard chuckled to himself. Despite owning only a single share, seeing his name on that formal invitation felt both ridiculous and exciting. He placed the letter on his desk, staring at it for a moment.


    "You''re actually going?" Harry asked, gulping down his breakfast.


    It was Sunday, a day off for both of them and their father.


    "Of course I''m going. Why wouldn''t I?" Richard replied, leaning back in his chair.


    Harry snorted. "I still don''t get why you bought a share in City instead of United. If it were me, I''d have gone for a club closer to home¡ªTottenham, Arsenal¡­ even Fulham would''ve made more sense."


    "I already told you, I didn''t buy it." Richard waved his hand dismissively. "You just don''t understand."


    The room fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of Harry finishing his meal. Then, out of nowhere, Richard spoke again, his tone softer.


    "Hey¡­ don''t you want to go back to school?"


    Harry froze, clearly caught off guard. ''Huh? Where did that come from?''


    Richard met his brother''s surprised look and sighed. He knew that Harry had once had big dreams¡ªdreams that now seemed buried under the weight of reality.


    "You used to talk about starting your own supermarket," Richard reminded him. "But how are you going to do that without knowing how to run a business?"


    Harry didn''t answer right away. His silence spoke volumes.


    "Why not ask Mom to help pay for your tuition?" Richard pressed. "She''s still holding my ATM card, right?"


    Harry hesitated. "Do you really think she''d agree?"


    "Of course! Why wouldn''t she?" Richard frowned. "She wants what''s best for us."


    "But¡­ my age¡ª"


    "Come on! Who says you''re too old to study? You''re only in your twenties!" Richard threw up his hands. "You think that''s old?"


    Harry chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don''t know¡­ I guess not."


    Richard leaned in, lowering his voice. "Listen, I''ll help you. You know how I became a footballer, right? It all started because I took a chance. Do you have the guts to do the same?"


    His path to becoming a footballer was anything but conventional. No one in his family had seen it coming. From neighborhood games to school matches, and then tournament after tournament, he just played for fun.


    But he kept climbing higher until, one day, a scout passing by happened to watch him play. Without warning, an invitation to a trial landed in his hands. But instead of running to tell his family, he quietly folded the letter and tucked it away in his drawer.


    Every day after that, he snuck off to training sessions. Sometimes he skipped school, and his grades plummeted, but he didn''t care. Other times, he pretended he was just out with friends or running errands. It wasn''t easy, but his determination kept him going.


    "But I''d have to quit my job¡­"


    "Yeah, but think of it as an investment in your future. Do you really want to spend your whole life stuck in a warehouse, like Dad?"


    Harry''s expression darkened.


    "Alright, that''s enough, Richard. You''re going too far."


    "No, hear me out! I''m not saying Dad''s life is bad," Richard added quickly, "but he works so hard because he wants more for us. I know he''d support you, and Mom will too. The only question is¡ªdo you dare?"


    Harry sat there, thinking deeply. After a long pause, he finally asked, "You''ll help me talk to them?"


    "I promise."


    "Right now?"


    "The sooner, the better. Let''s not waste time."


    Harry took a deep breath, then slapped his thigh with determination. "Alright! Let''s do it!"


    "That''s the spirit!" Richard grinned, clapping his brother on the back. "Come on, brother¡ªyou''ve got this!"


    After wrapping up property and business matters, Richard finally boarded a direct train from London Euston to Manchester Piccadilly.


    Anna had made sure his son dressed nicely and even insisted Richard brush his hair. The journey took around three hours, but he didn''t mind¡ªhe had been looking forward to this for a long time.


    Upon arriving at Manchester Piccadilly, Richard still needed to make his way to Maine Road. The stadium wasn''t exactly close, located a few miles from the city center in the Moss Side district. Not wanting to waste time navigating buses or trams, he opted for a taxi.


    As the cab weaved through Manchester''s streets, Richard gazed out the window, watching the cityscape shift. Soon, the towering stands of Maine Road came into view¡ªManchester City''s iconic home ground, standing tall and proud since 1923.


    This was it.


    Before arriving, Richard had done a bit of research on Manchester City.


    To be honest, their performance on the pitch was surprisingly poor. It was a stark contrast to the Manchester City that dominated the Premier League under Pep Guardiola in the future, a version he knew well.


    Richard then shook his head. His role was more focused on management, so he didn''t pay too much attention to their on-field struggles


    In 1986, Manchester City Football Club was still structured as a private limited company, not a public one.


    This meant the shares were privately held and not available for public trading. The club''s management was overseen by a board of directors, responsible for making key decisions.


    Richard stepped out of the taxi and looked up at the towering stands of Maine Road. Clutching the official AGM invitation, he walked toward the main entrance.


    Inside, the marble-floored lobby was quieter than he expected, the only sound being the soft echoes of footsteps. A receptionist sat behind a polished wooden desk, flipping through her documents. When she saw Richard approaching, she stood up.


    "Good morning, may I help you, sir?"


    "Good morning," Richard replied. "I''m here for the meeting."


    The receptionist seemed taken aback, but she smiled politely. "Yes, sir, how can I assist you?"


    "I''m here for the meeting," Richard repeated.


    The receptionist paused for a moment, thinking, ''Meeting? Who is this? So young? And also I never seen him before, a troublemaker?''


    Just as she was about to call security, Richard remembered the invitation he was holding. It had been hidden under the desk and wasn''t visible. He showed it to her, which clearly surprised her.


    "Wait a moment, sir." She took the invitation, checked its authenticity, and compared it with her guest list, flipping through the pages.


    After scanning and cross-checking, she smiled. "Ah, yes, Mr. Maddox. You''re on the list. You''ve arrived a bit early, but that''s perfectly fine." She handed him a visitor''s badge. "Please follow me."


    Richard followed the receptionist down a quiet corridor. The atmosphere felt unusually still, so he decided to break the silence. "Aren''t the players coming?"


    "No, it''s still too early," the receptionist replied.


    As they walked, Richard noticed the receptionist kept sneaking glances at him. Curious, he asked, "Is there something on my face?"


    Ashley, startled by the question, quickly responded, "N-no, nothing, sir." She tried to keep her composure, but it was clear she was nervous.


    "Am I that scary?" Richard chuckled lightly.


    Ashley, now gathering her courage, ventured, "Are you really Richard Maddox, that Richard Maddox?"


    Richard found the question funny but didn''t tease her. He simply nodded.


    The confirmation seemed to make Ashley even more intrigued. She''d heard about his injury and how severe it had been.


    Finally, they stopped at a large wooden door. "Here we are," Ashley said, pushing it open.


    Richard stepped into a spacious, yet understated, meeting room. A long, polished mahogany table stretched down the center, surrounded by high-backed leather chairs. The walls were adorned with framed photos, likely of club legends and key figures.


    At the far end of the table sat a stack of printed agendas and informational packets. Ashley picked up one with Richard''s name on it and handed it to him. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Thank you."


    As it was his first time attending a meeting like this, what he needed was a little bit of guidance.


    "Anything else, sir?"


    "Do I just need to wait for the others here?"


    "Yes, since you''re quite early, the chairman and the others will likely arrive in about an hour."


    "Oh, that''s okay then. Thank you so much, Ashley," Richard said, glancing at the name on her badge.


    With a polite nod, Ashley responded, "You''re welcome, sir. If you need anything else, don''t hesitate to ask."


    "Sure."


    She left the room, closing the door behind her.

 Chapter 11 - 11: The Extraordinary General Meeting

    At 9:30 AM, a temporary general meeting was officially held at Manchester City''s Maine Road Stadium. This was a special, unannounced gathering, initiated by the current chairman, Peter Swales.


    Typically, whether for a listed company, private company, or other types of businesses, shareholders attend a mandatory yearly meeting known as the Annual General Meeting or AGM.


    This serves as a platform to review the company''s performance over the past year, discuss future strategies, and make key decisions.


    In contrast, an Extraordinary General Meeting or EGM is called outside of the AGM to address urgent matters requiring shareholder approval that cannot wait until the next AGM.


    EGMs are unscheduled and usually convened for major events, such as issuing new shares, amending the company''s articles, or the unexpected appointment or removal of directors.


    Both types of meetings require key members of the club to be notified in advance, but there are no specific regulations under company law. Instead, the notification process can be determined by the company''s internal regulations.


    Upon hearing the news about the meeting, many people were puzzled about what Swales was thinking.


    At the entrance of Manchester City''s Maine Road, two board members, clad in sharp, tailored suits¡ªcomplete with pocket squares, polished leather shoes, and neatly combed hair happened to cross paths.


    Eric Alexander, the former chairman and now a director, was walking nearby, lost in thought. Club politics and his father''s declining health were taking a toll on him. He sighed, wishing his father were here.


    His father, Albert Edward Burns Alexander Sr., or simply Albert Alexander, was a central figure in the club.


    From the club''s early rise, he had been at the heart of it all, leading Manchester City as chairman through its pivotal years. Now, however, due to age and health issues, he could only hold a ceremonial role as club president.


    While the title of club president still held significance, the real issue was that there was already an acting president, making his father''s role purely honorary, with no actual power at all.


    Eric had hoped to follow in his father''s footsteps, and though he had briefly succeeded as chairman, losing the position and being reduced to just a director felt like a demotion in his eyes.


    "Sigh, if only Father were here¡­ Now I''ve lost the chairman''s seat¡­ Sigh¡­" Eric lamented.


    While he was deep in thought, he didn''t realize he was already being watched.


    Sydney Rose, another director, noticed him and walked over, gently tapping his arm before stepping ahead. He slowed his pace, waiting for Eric to catch up.


    "Rose," Alexander greeted warmly, his tone filled with respect.


    Sydney Rose was an NHS consultant surgeon at Withington and Wythenshawe Hospitals. He was also the surgeon who had performed the emergency appendectomy on Manchester United''s Sir Matt Busby in 1970.


    "What''s on your mind, Eric? If it weren''t for me, you''d have walked straight into that post," Sydney chuckled, nodding toward a towering lamppost.


    "Oh, then I must thank you, haha," Eric replied with a faint smile.


    Sydney watched him with mild disapproval¡ªso early in the morning, and he already seemed burdened with thoughts. He shook his head before steering the conversation to something more important.


    "Peter''s called a meeting. Do you know what it''s about? Have you seen the agenda?" he asked.


    Alexander shrugged. "No idea what he''s thinking. But we''ll find out soon enough."


    The moment they arrived at the meeting room, both men were taken aback. Someone was already there, calmly reading through the briefing pack.


    Noticing their arrival, the man stood up and stepped forward to introduce himself.


    "Good morning, gentlemen. My name is Richard Maddox."


    "You¡ª"


    Before Sydney could finish, Alexander jumped in, "Maddox? Sheffield Wednesday?"


    "Yes, That''s me." Richard replied with a nod.


    "Holy¡ª"He stopped himself, catching his tongue before saying something impolite. He extended his hand instead. "Your injury¡­?"


    Richard smiled. "I''m doing fine now. After all, I wouldn''t have been invited here if I wasn''t," he said, raising the pack with his name printed on it.


    Alexander and Sydney exchanged glances. It seemed they had both started to piece things together. However, confusion quickly set in. Wasn''t the board already full? Why was there suddenly a new member?


    After introducing himself, Richard sat back down in his chair. He opened the briefing pack and flipped to the section on board members.


    "Hmm¡­ Eric Alexander and Sydney Rose¡­ ah, here it is," he muttered.


    He found their names listed and continued reading, diving deeper into the contents of the pack. It detailed the current City board and shareholdings as of today.


    Chairman: Peter Swales


    Vice-Chairman: Simon Cussons


    President: Joe Smith, Albert Alexander


    Directors: John Humphreys, Sidney Rose, Ian Niven, Chris Muir, Eric Alexander, Robert Harris.


    After a couple of minutes, more and more people arrived, just like Eric and Sydney. They too were taken aback, but once they realized it was Richard Maddox, the former Sheffield Wednesday player, their imaginations ran wild.


    A new player?


    A coach?


    Is this because of his injury?


    Many of them thought Richard might be introduced as a new coach or something similar. However, they were still unsure. After all, why call an EGM just to announce a new staff member?


    By the end of it, no one even considered the possibility that Richard was there to join them¡ªofficially or even just in name. But soon, all their guesses were shattered by the arrival of Frank Shepherd and Gordon Barry.


    Frank Shepherd, the club''s solicitor, and Gordon Barry, the barrister.


    The roles of a solicitor and a barrister served specific legal purposes, especially during critical events. If the solicitor handled the day-to-day legal affairs of the club, then the barrister specialized in advocacy and complex legal opinions.


    All things considered, why were they here?


    Something big is coming!


    Peter Swales was the last to arrive. He wore a sharp three-piece suit on a Sunday morning, carrying a briefcase in hand. He didn''t speak to Richard or greet him directly like the others had, likely knowing that acknowledging him now might reveal too much too soon.


    With all the members gathered, Swales took his seat at the head of the table, commanding the room. As the murmurs continued, he clapped his hands to bring the conversation to a halt.


    "Good morning, everyone, and thank you for attending this general meeting. We have urgent matters to discuss today¡ªhence the short notice."


    The room fell silent, all eyes now fixed on Swales and the agenda.


    "First, I apologize for taking up your valuable time with this sudden meeting. However, today''s agenda is critical and has only one item¡ª" he paused, letting the tension settle in the room, "and that is to propose the addition of a new acting director to Manchester City Football Club."


    BOOM!


    All were stunned. A heavy silence hung in the air as the weight of Swales'' words settled over the room. Only Frank Shepherd, the club''s solicitor, and Gordon Barry, the barrister, remained calm¡ªunsurprising, as they had already been briefed by Peter beforehand.


    The other board members exchanged puzzled glances, some leaning in to whisper, trying to make sense of the unexpected proposal.


    Sydney Rose was the first to break the silence, his brow furrowed. "Peter¡­ a new acting director? Without any prior notice?"


    Peter nodded, clearly expecting this reaction. "I understand your concerns, but the situation required discretion. I''ll explain everything in due time."


    Richard, who had been quietly observing, twitched at this. ''What situation? What discretion?'' If they knew he had lost a single share just because of a bet, he feared they would bang their heads in frustration.


    Eric was still processing everything when he spoke up. "And who exactly is this new director?" His eyes flicked toward Richard, who sat quietly at the table.


    Peter gestured toward him. "Gentlemen, allow me to formally introduce Richard Maddox."


    A ripple of whispers spread across the room. Some board members eyed Richard with curiosity, others with thinly veiled skepticism.


    "That Maddox?" someone murmured.


    "The one who banged his head on the post?" another chimed in.


    Richard wanted nothing more than to dig a hole and disappear, but the situation didn''t allow for that. He took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and stood up. All eyes were now on him.


    "Morning, gentlemen." He nodded and gave a slight bow out of respect before continuing, "My name is Richard Maddox. Some of you may know me as a former player¡ªuntil, well, the injury." He paused, letting the weight of that moment sink in before continuing. "I may not have the impressive backgrounds that you gentlemen have, but I do know football¡ªon the pitch and¡­" he trailed off, "¡­off the pitch."


    "And what exactly do you mean by ''off the pitch''?" someone asked.


    "Thank you for the question, gentlemen," Richard replied with a polite nod. "As many of you know, my youth career ended with 70 goals, followed by another 42 the next season before I was promoted to the senior team. There, while my goal tally wasn''t as impressive as in my youth¡ª15 goals and 11 assists¡ªI became a more mature and complete player." He paused, letting his words settle as he scanned the room.


    A few board members exchanged glances. Some leaned in, intrigued by his honesty, while others sat back, arms crossed, still skeptical.


    "What I''m trying to say is," Richard continued, "it wasn''t just me. It was the club management, the coaching staff, and especially their youth development program that molded me into the player I became. Gentlemen, what I''m offering is the chance to use my experience¡ªnot just as a player, but as someone who''s been through that system¡ªto help Manchester City grow stronger, both on the pitch and off it."


    Sensing the room''s mixed reactions, Peter Swales smiled and gave a subtle nod. At first, he had planned to intervene if something went wrong, but it seemed everything was going smoothly.


    Joe Smith, the current president, wasn''t unhappy with Richard. In fact, he didn''t mind him at all. What bothered him was how Peter Swales, the current chairman, had suddenly nominated someone without warning. It felt like Peter was misusing his authority.


    So he raised his hand and said, "Mr. Swales, pardon my interruption. Before we continue this discussion, are you aware that the club covenant is still active to this day?"


    On the day of the General Election, on 15 October 1964, the club''s six directors signed a Deed of Covenant which stated: S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "...in the event of a director''s death or his otherwise leaving the board, the shares should still remain with the club..."


    What "remain with the club" meant in practice was that the shares of departing directors would be divided among the remaining signees.


    Since the board still controlled a majority of the club''s shares, the aim was to prevent any hostile force from acquiring a large enough stake to force a takeover.


    "Of course I understand," Peter Swales replied confidently before gesturing for Richard to take his seat. He then cast a quick glance at Frank Shepherd, Manchester City''s sole solicitor.


    Frank nodded, placed his briefcase on the table, and opened it with a deliberate click. He pulled out a stack of documents and cleared his throat.


    "Gentlemen, please allow me to read the 1964 covenant signed by the original six-man board." He read the document in full before summarizing its key points.


    "Firstly, the 1964 covenant was built on shaky legal ground. This became evident when the club''s Articles of Association were amended in 1971, allowing the number of board seats to increase from seven to nine, with one additional seat for urgent matters."


    It was a clear threat.


    In other words, even if anyone objected, it wouldn''t stop future attempts. As long as Peter held the chairman''s seat, he could continue using the same approach.


    With his authority, no one could be certain whether he might resort to shady tactics to sway current or future directors. No one wanted their power on the board to be weakened or to give Peter an opportunity to dominate the board''s control.

 Chapter 12 - 12: The Covenant pt.1

    "However, as a club that values tradition, let''s not disrupt our foundation," Frank continued. "What I''m trying to say, gentlemen, is that we value and believe the covenant was established with clear rules designed to guide Manchester City toward a better future."


    Frank paused for a moment, ensuring his point was clear before continuing. "Gentlemen, I believe some of you may have questions regarding this. Currently, nine plus one seats are occupied, which means adding another¡ªwithout proper adjustments¡ªwould technically violate the covenant''s terms."


    Everyone nodded in agreement.


    "However, gentlemen," Frank continued, "I also believe some of you may have overlooked the fact that one of the board members who should be here has his shares locked away in his lawyer''s bank due to certain circumstances."


    The moment Eric heard this, his face froze.


    His father''s shares.


    Everyone already knew that, according to the covenant, when Albert Alexander eventually passed away, his shares would be transferred to Eric Alexander, his designated successor.


    This meant that, since Albert was still alive, Eric couldn''t legally take control of the shares just yet.


    At the time, Albert was unable to attend the meeting due to health issues, leaving Eric to represent him. However, since Eric was acting purely as his father''s proxy¡ªthrough their familial connection and not as the legal controller of the shares¡ªAlbert''s shares were deemed inactive.


    As a result, his seat was effectively considered vacant.


    Of course, Eric had no ulterior motives toward his father¡ªhe deeply respected and loved him. No one on the board had any bad thoughts either, as none of them wanted to provoke tension or attract media attention that could damage their reputations.


    Hence, since Albert''s shares were inactive, they were securely locked away in his lawyer''s bank to prevent any risk of them going missing again.


    Why bother to lock them away? Missing again?


    Back in the 1960s, during Albert Alexander''s tenure as Manchester City chairman, the club faced serious challenges regarding share ownership and control. At one point, the club''s shares went missing, causing internal uproar that nearly tore the club apart.


    In March 1964, during this period of turmoil, a consortium led by property developer Peter Donoghue made a ¡ê100,000 takeover bid for the club, which the board firmly rejected. The fact that the bid coincided with the missing shares raised suspicions, with the board viewing it as a hostile takeover attempt.


    In response to this, two directors at that time hired private detectives to track down the missing shares. Despite their efforts, no one was certain what would happen during this sensitive time. Political changes was also making the board fearful.


    Donoghue, who was a Labour councillor, then had been selected as a Labour candidate for the 1964 General Election. This raised concerns within the board, as a Labour government¡ªled by a Prime Minister who openly supported football¡ªcould potentially aid Donoghue''s takeover plans.


    Recognizing the threat, Albert Alexander and the board decided that a new defensive strategy was needed. This crisis led to the creation of the Deed of Covenant.


    The purpose was simple: the covenant ensured that if anything happened before the missing shares were recovered, the shares would remain within the club, divided among the remaining directors.


    This safeguard was designed to prevent external parties from gaining significant control over Manchester City. Thankfully, the crisis eventually ended when the missing shares were found. With their recovery, Albert''s allies controlled four of the six boardroom votes.


    Donoghue, by that time, had withdrawn from the takeover group. Had the shares fallen into the hands of the consortium, the consequences could have been severe¡ªsomething one key figure at the club was keen to exploit.


    Now, the question is¡ªwhy didn''t Albert simply transfer or gift his shares to Eric, his designated successor? He could''ve just gone to his lawyer, signed the papers, and it would''ve been done, right?


    The answer lies in the nature of business dynamics. When an organization reaches a point of stability, internal conflict almost inevitably follows.


    The hostile takeover attempt by Donoghue''s consortium had initially united Manchester City''s board, but what happened after that?


    Once people have tasted power, they tend to cling to it. The confrontations between board members became fierce.


    Shares shifted hands from one director to another, though they remained within the internal circle. Eventually, Albert, who was still chairman at the time, began experiencing health problems due to old age.


    His shares became a hot commodity, but Albert, being a seasoned political player, was shrewd. He decided to step down as chairman and part with some of his shares, while locking the rest away in his lawyer''s bank for safekeeping.


    After long and tense discussions, a kind of Christmas truce was called. As a goodwill gesture, Joe Smith even offered to make Albert chairman for life if the takeover succeeded.


    His target? S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The shares in Albert Alexander''s hands¡ªthe ones he might be willing to part with.


    Albert agreed, as this was the most appealing offer on the table. But in reality, both sides were secretly preparing their legal strategies.


    With Smith taking the lead, other board members threatened to issue a "huge new block of shares" to block the takeover. Smith, whose legal team had prepared a list of eight alternative courses of action, was confident he could prevent it.


    The current director, Joe Smith, became the largest shareholder at the time thanks to Alexander''s shares. However, his plan to become chairman didn''t go smoothly. He fought fiercely with other board members, especially Frank Johnson, the vice-chairman at the time, who was also eyeing the chairman''s seat.


    The conflict intensified, and this was exactly what the media craved. After further digging, a hot piece of news emerged ¡ª it turned out that the Oldham-based double glazing tycoon, Joe Smith, owed his position on Manchester City''s board to none other than Johnson himself.


    This revelation made everything even more dramatic.

 Chapter 13 - 13: The Covenant pt.2

    As the conflict dragged on, Joe Smith held a press conference at his home in Prestbury. The topic was the threat from other board members to issue a "huge new block of shares" to block his path to becoming chairman.


    Smith and his lawyer argued that the board''s proposals were invalid and announced that his takeover group would propose their own resolutions at the next general meeting, calling on his allies to side with him.


    Everyone expected the next general meeting to be a showdown between Joe Smith, the biggest shareholder, and Frank Johnson, the vice-chairman. But in a shocking twist, Johnson didn''t even attend the meeting. What was even more surprising was the revelation that Johnson was planning to hand over all his shares.


    It was at this moment that the sidelined ex-chairman, Albert Alexander, revealed his hand.


    He was in no mood for peace offerings ¡ª the conflict had gone too far, dragging the media into the club''s internal chaos.


    In the meeting that Johnson failed to attend, he was stripped of his vice-chairmanship and replaced by Sydney Rose. The club also announced plans to launch legal proceedings to block the sale of Johnson''s shares, arguing it violated the signed Deed of Covenant.


    This time, the battle moved to the courtroom. Manchester City''s solicitor, Frank Shepherd, was sent to London to prepare their case.


    The club''s legal team argued that the Deed of Covenant, signed on October 5, 1964, was still valid and enforceable.


    Following a meeting between the lawyers representing both sides, Albert Alexander revealed the club''s next explosive move ¡ª they planned to officially remove Frank Johnson from the board at the upcoming general meeting.


    If the courts ruled that the covenant was still active, and Johnson was removed from the board at the next meeting, then Alexander would have a legal claim to Johnson''s stake. That would leave him with a majority of the club''s shares¡ªrivaling the current Joe Smith.


    Johnson wasn''t ready to back down. With the court''s involvement and time running out, he promised that the voting rights on his shares would not be exercised "on any resolution to remove any director from the board, reduce the number of directors, or appoint any further directors."


    However, the court ruled that Johnson could still use his shares to block his own removal from the board and prevent the issuance of new shares ¡ª a decision that ensured further deadlock.


    By this point, the boardroom turmoil was clearly affecting events on the pitch. That season, City suffered early exits from both the League Cup and the FA Cup. A league campaign that had started so strongly ¡ª with six wins and two draws in the first eight games ¡ª crumbled, ending with just one win in their final 19 matches.


    Club solicitor Frank Shepherd warned that the trial could be up to 12 months away, deepening the sense of stagnation and frustration within the club.


    As City became embroiled in an increasingly bitter takeover battle, a fresh face in the world of football was attracting headlines for all the right reasons. Several newspapers reported rumors of a mystery backer interested in investing in City.


    After some digging, media soon found out that the mystery benefactor was a rising figure in the football world ¡ª someone who now offered to help break the deadlock.


    His name was Peter J. Swales.


    "Mr. Shepherd, may I know what you mean by this?" Eric''s face darkened.


    He was no pushover. Even though his tenure as chairman hadn''t lasted as long as his father''s, he was still a club legend.


    At 19, he became the youngest member of the City ''A'' team his father had set up. In fact, he was not only the captain but also held the course record and was in charge of a large social club.


    "Eric, calm down. This isn''t what you think," Peter quickly intervened, trying to prevent another conflict from spiraling out of control. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I''ve already proposed this idea and even consulted Mr. Gordon about it," Peter continued, letting out a deep sigh. "Eric, gentlemen¡­ let''s be honest here ¡ª this club isn''t doing well, is it?"


    A heavy silence filled the room. It was undeniable. Legal bills were mounting alarmingly, and the club was on the brink. Yet, no one wanted to loosen their grip on the power they still held.


    "We need to be bold. We need to take risks," Peter said, exhaling deeply before nodding to his personal secretary, who handed him a document concerning Richard''s situation.


    When the others read the bolded words ¡ª "single share" ¡ª that Richard would own, the room froze in stunned silence.


    ''A single share? You can''t be serious. Even the smallest director holds at least ten shares!''


    But Peter didn''t let them think; he needed to press them hard. "Gentlemen, I want to work together to lead this club in harmony. The power struggles are over. It''s time to bring in fresh energy and new ideas." He walked over to Richard''s seat and patted him on the shoulder. "And I believe in him."


    Sure, the High Court battles were behind them, but the crushing legal fees and the club''s disastrous performances on the pitch had left them all in despair. If things didn''t change soon, they''d have no choice but to sell their shares to outsiders.


    Even the covenant couldn''t save them!


    The bitter truth was that it had been their collective decision to back the previous manager ¡ª the one who had squandered vast sums on failed signings while selling off key talents like Asa Hartford, Gary Owen, and Peter Barnes.


    One of the worst blunders was the record-breaking signing of Steve Daley, which shattered the British transfer fee record but delivered nothing on the pitch. City had started the season with high hopes, but now, with just one win in their last 19 games, the weight of their mistakes was unbearable.


    "Now, gentlemen," Peter clapped his hands sharply, drawing everyone''s attention. "It''s time to make a decision ¡ª a big one. We either stand together and fight for this club, or we let it crumble right in front of us."


    He let the silence hang in the air for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in.


    "Now, give me your choice," he continued, his voice firm. "Are you with me to rebuild this club, or are you ready to watch it fall apart?"

 Chapter 14 - 14: Nominated

    "Mr. Richard, may I ask you something?"


    "Yes, please, Mr. Cussons."


    Cussons.


    If you focused on the surname "Cussons," it would be impossible not to recognize the name.


    Simon Cussons, the managing director of the giant cosmetics company that bore his family''s name, came from a legacy not unlike that of the current chairman.


    His great-grandfather, Thomas Cussons, founded the company¡ªcoincidentally, in 1894¡ªwith his son, Alexander. Cussons, Son & Co soon expanded into a derelict mill in Kersal Moor, Salford, transforming it into a 14-acre factory that produced soap, talcum powder, cosmetics, and perfumes.


    After Alexander Cussons'' death in 1951, the chairmanship passed to his son, Leslie. Simon Cussons, one of Leslie''s two children, inherited a significant stake in the company, along with his share of vast landholdings in Cheshire, Derbyshire, and the Isle of Man.


    Simon later joined Peter Donoghue''s attempted takeover consortium but took a different path, which earned him a seat on City''s board.


    Around that time, it seemed an agreement had been made with Eric Alexander to succeed his father as chairman. For that deal to work, Joe Smith had likely promised not to use his large block of shares to unseat Eric.


    It''s not entirely clear what Simon said to each board member to sway them into giving him the leeway to overlook the covenant. However, it was announced during the stormy period of the board meeting that he had joined the City board.


    Richard cast a pitying glance at the current president, Joe Smith. The very "large block of shares" strategy Joe had once used to threaten Eric and his father was now being used against him ¡ª the same tactic that had ultimately cost him the chance to become chairman.


    It wasn''t hard to figure out. In Richard''s version of the meeting pack, there was a wealth of information about the club ¡ª detailed backgrounds on each board member, key documents, and even specific instructions on the actions he needed to take.


    Someone had clearly gone out of their way to prepare him for what lay ahead. It felt like an invisible hand was guiding him through the chaos, setting him up for success at this meeting. Realizing this, he glanced at Peter and wanted to give him a thumbs-up.


    "First, I apologize if my question comes off as a bit blunt. Uh, Mr. Maddox, no, Mr. Richard, are you okay with this decision?"


    Richard was momentarily puzzled by the question and tilted his head. "Could you please clarify what you mean, sir?"


    "I mean the single share. Are you comfortable with this?"


    It was only then that he understood what they were referring to. For someone like him, simply being a part of a football club was already an achievement to be proud of. But to them, owning just a single share wasn''t enough¡ªit almost felt a bit insulting.


    Richard smiled wryly. "Sir, when I first went unresponsive in the CT scanner, I was in surgery within minutes. Had I been anywhere else, things could have turned out very differently. I was being operated on just 61 minutes later. The next thing I remember is waking up. Everything was a blur. I remember feeling a lot of pain."


    "I was sleeping 20-22 hours a day. They would wake me up for a few tests, check my blood pressure, and so on, but most of the time, I just had to sleep. Recovering from an injury like that takes a toll on your body. You need to pace yourself. I had staples and metal plates in my head. It was so severe, they tried not to overwhelm me."


    "For a while, I thought about getting back onto the pitch once I recovered. In fact, I had already started thinking about going back to Yorkshire to start over. Every day I''d jog up and down. Although there was still some dizziness, by the end of my break, I was running at about 70 or 80%, twisting, turning, and kicking a ball again. That time off really gave me the belief I could come back."


    The room fell silent, their expressions complex. ''What a good lad. Why did his love for football have to be taken from him?''


    "I convinced myself I was just a few weeks away from playing for the first team again. I thought I could get back in the team, play in a local tournament, and then hopefully return to the First Division. That''s where my mind was at, but then, out of nowhere, I started feeling dizzy again and went for another scan..." Richard paused, taking a deep breath. "That scan changed everything."


    The room was still, everyone hanging on his words.


    "I still love football, and fortunately, I''m fit enough for a kickabout. But it wasn''t safe to play professionally again. I considered coaching or managing a team, but even that didn''t seem like a safe option. Would the thrill of scoring a goal keep me seated? If my team made a comeback or won a championship, would I be able to resist getting swept up in the excitement?"


    Richard shook his head as he mocked himself.


    "It''s incredibly difficult. But then Mr. Swales extended his hand, offering me a chance to join Manchester City. How could I say no? Football is my life. I love the game. No other club offered me this kind of opportunity, but Manchester City was the first to reach out. How could I not be touched by that? So, with all humility, gentlemen, please help me. I want to be a part of Manchester City Football Club."


    Each person in that room, even the most stoic among them, was visibly moved. Some seemed to be fighting the lump in their throats.


    It was as though they were witnessing a man laying down his soul before them¡ªa man whose passion for the game had been stripped away, yet whose love for football still burned brighter than ever.


    One by one, the board members exchanged looks¡ªsome with wide-eyed sympathy, others with expressions of sheer admiration. How could anyone not be moved by this?


    Peter Swales, who had been sitting motionless, his hands folded tightly in front of him, slowly leaned forward, his eyes glistening with emotion. He had never expected the one he had recruit to have such a rich story.


    He had thought it was just an injury, something very normal for a footballer, but now he understood.


    His decision hadn''t been wrong. It wasn''t just about football anymore; it was about the very essence of passion, sacrifice, and the will to keep going even when everything seemed lost.


    Swales stood, his face a mixture of pride and compassion. "Richard," he said, his voice trembling with emotion, "you''ve proven more than your commitment to football. You''ve proven your heart, your soul, and your unwavering belief in what this game truly means. Manchester City is lucky to have you. And we will do everything in our power to ensure that you''re part of this club for as long as you wish."


    The entire room erupted into applause. Everyone looked at Richard with a mix of complexity and sympathy. He had inspired everyone in that room to see football as more than just a sport, but as a way of life, a journey, a dream.


    And just like that, Manchester City Football Club would never be the same again.


    The response from everyone was overwhelmingly positive.


    The only issue now was how to bypass the covenant.


    Everyone agreed they wanted to follow the established practice of using a unanimous vote to approve Richard''s nomination as the new director. No one felt threatened by his presence¡ªit was just a single share, and so, everyone was quite accommodating.


    However, no one was willing to be the first to recommend this course of action. The reason was clear.


    The city solicitor, Mr. Frank Shepherd, had already made his position known regarding the covenant. As a club that prides itself on tradition, they could not disregard the covenant. This meant that those who had previously failed to honor it should not repeat that mistake.


    Now, his words had backfired. Yet, the room remained calm. Given Mr. Shepherd''s legal expertise, it was clear that he had considered all options before speaking, and everyone trusted he had a solution in mind.


    "That''s why I suggested we use the president''s vacant seat," he said, waving his hand to signal everyone to stop speaking. "Not to dismiss him or anything. In fact, we have another solution for this."


    Everyone looked at him with expectation. Since everyone agreed, they now controlled the majority of the vote.


    The question was only how to work around the covenant so that when the minutes of the meeting were recorded, everything would appear legitimate.


    This way, if Manchester City had future plans to go public and be listed, all the information that became publicly available would be free of any legal, ethical, or development-related issues.


    "The goal now is to ensure that Richard can join the board without violating the covenant''s stipulation about the number of directors. The president, who is unable to attend meetings due to illness, is effectively not participating in the governance of the club. Am I right, gentleman?"


    Everyone nodded, clearly familiar with the situation.


    "Then we can claim the seat is effectively vacant, even if it''s still technically occupied by the current president on paper. While the position may not be part of the active decision-making board, it could still hold formal standing. This is possible, right, Mr. Gordon?"


    Naturally, for something like this, they needed the barrister''s opinion.


    Gordon, the barrister leaned in and responded, "So, you''re asking if you can justify the absence and non-fulfillment of responsibilities by the honorary president, allowing Mr. Richard to be offered this ''vacant'' seat without violating the covenant?" S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Exactly. No one has formally ''left,'' and no shares have been transferred. We see this as a practical matter. Since the president hasn''t been participating or transferring his shares to an outsider, there''s no violation, correct?"


    "Hmmm," the barrister pondered. ''Since the honorary president is no longer attending meetings, we can frame his absence as ''inactive,'' making the seat eligible to be filled by someone else. Therefore, the seat can be considered ''vacant'' in terms of board participation. This would allow Richard''s nomination to be justified as a way to strengthen the board.''


    "Then what if the president suddenly attends the meeting? Are you prepared to face the consequences?"


    With that question, everyone turned their attention toward Richard.


    If the president were to suddenly wake up from his bed and learn about this, there''s a possibility he might hold Richard accountable or even take legal action.


    Since he doesn''t know the full details of the situation, he might view this as a violation of his position and the club''s governance, potentially assuming that the board members had bypassed proper procedures.

 Chapter 15 - 15: Concentration of Power

    Richard sat in silence, his mind racing.


    ''Sheikh Mansour, Thaksin Shinawatra, Francis Lee, David Bernstein¡­ and then Peter Swales.''


    He had never been particularly interested in Manchester City. But their meteoric rise under Sheikh Mansour, with Pep Guardiola orchestrating a new era of dominance in European football, had certainly caught his attention¡ªjust as it had the rest of the world.


    As he studied the club''s management structure, something stood out. After Swales, there was no mention of anyone named Alexander. A loophole, perhaps? One that could be exploited?


    ''Everything should be in order¡­ right?''


    The sudden return of a long-forgotten and ailing president reclaiming his seat should have been an impossibility.


    Richard had always been pragmatic. In the world of football¡ªjust like in business¡ªnothing was ever truly set in stone. Even the most meticulously laid plans had weak points, and the unexpected was always lurking. But high risk often came with high rewards.


    If he didn''t seize this opportunity now, when would he ever get another chance like this?


    The idea of stepping into the boardroom¡ªarmed with knowledge of the future, with the power to shape the destiny of one of football''s greatest clubs¡ªwas both exhilarating and terrifying.


    Would his actions trigger a butterfly effect? Perhaps.


    But football wasn''t like business or politics, where a single decision could send ripples across the world.


    Football was entertainment. Politics might occasionally seep into the sport, but it didn''t hold the same weight. He wasn''t running FIFA¡ªhe was running a club.


    One thing was certain: whatever happened next, there was no turning back.


    "Yes, I''m willing to take the risk."


    "Good!"


    With that, the board members, from top to bottom, launched into discussion.


    Richard, unfamiliar with football management, could only focus on listening and learning. He took careful notes, absorbing every detail.


    His attentiveness didn''t go unnoticed¡ªmany in the room were pleased to see his eagerness. Even Eric, who had initially been skeptical of his involvement, found himself nodding in approval, almost without realizing it.


    The next step was to use a vote of no confidence to trigger a board reshuffle, paving the way for new members.


    While Richard was stepping into a leadership role, it wouldn''t be a direct takeover. Instead, the process would be framed as a natural transition within the club''s governance structure.


    The key restriction within the covenant lay in its definition of what it meant to "remain" in the club. It mandated that departing directors'' shares be distributed only among the remaining signees, effectively preventing outsiders from joining easily.


    So, how could the board argue that the covenant''s spirit was being upheld while still introducing a new member¡ªespecially when no seats were available?


    The answer lay in two things: unanimous agreement and legal documentation.


    A unanimous vote would ensure there were no objections, while proper legal framing would present the reshuffle as an organic part of the club''s restructuring. Everything needed to appear legitimate, aligning with both the letter and spirit of the covenant.


    By positioning the reshuffle as a necessary step for the club''s governance and future stability, the move would remain within legal boundaries¡ªdespite the underlying intention of bypassing restrictions.


    It would be presented as a strategic decision made in good faith and in the club''s best interests. Richard''s nomination would be framed as essential to strengthening the board and addressing internal challenges.


    Additionally, it aligned with tradition, maintaining the "nine-plus-one" seat structure. This approach would minimize potential legal or ethical concerns that could arise under scrutiny.


    After thorough discussion, the new board panel was finalized, officially welcoming its newest member.


    Before:


    Chairman: Peter Swales


    Vice-Chairman: Simon Cussons


    President: Joe Smith, Albert Alexander (Honorary)


    Directors: John Humphreys, Sidney Rose, Ian Niven, Chris Muir, Eric Alexander, Robert Harris


    After:


    Chairman: Peter Swales


    Vice-Chairman: Simon Cussons


    President: Joe Smith, Albert Alexander (Honorary)


    Vice Presidents: Eric Alexander, John Humphreys, Sidney Rose, Chris Muir


    Directors: Ian Niven, Robert Harris, Richard Maddox


    An additional position was proposed, and after careful discussion, a vice president role was introduced to add further legitimacy to the reshuffle. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This allowed them to frame the restructuring as a way to honor tradition.


    They could argue that Eric Alexander, John Humphreys, Sidney Rose, and Chris Muir were key figures in shaping Manchester City''s modern management.


    Having served on the board since Albert Alexander''s leadership, their continued presence would reinforce stability and continuity within the club.


    For the next two hours, the discussion continued, with board members debating strategies, weighing potential consequences, and examining every angle of the reshuffle.


    Richard listened intently, absorbing every detail. Though he was new to football management, he made sure to ask the right questions, clarifying his future role and responsibilities.


    "Are you sure about this?"


    "Yes, I''m sure."


    At this time, Manchester City was in turmoil, both on and off the pitch. The club had suffered relegation to the Second Division in 1983 after a significant decline in form.


    Financial struggles only made matters worse¡ªmounting debt, rising operational costs, and increasing wages were putting immense strain on the club.


    ''Even if I join the main staff now, it won''t make much of a difference.'' Richard thought quickly.


    So, he chose to start as their youth coach¡ªa strategic first step.


    At the end of the day, the main reason he was accepted was his ability to rise through the ranks and make a name for himself¡ªa product of the Sheffield Wednesday academy. That credibility made it easier for the board to justify his inclusion.


    Richard wanted to make his stance clear and leave a strong first impression. He was here not just to make a power grab¡ªhe understood the game, the hierarchy, and, most importantly, the importance of self-awareness.


    When it came to youth development, City, from what Richard saw, was still in the early stages of understanding its importance. Their academy system was nowhere near as structured or well-funded as it would become in later years.


    While they focused on developing homegrown talent, their approach lacked consistency. The club wasn''t regularly promoting players from its youth ranks, and its setup lagged behind that of its rivals.


    The ''A'' Team was often overlooked.


    It was the club''s first youth team, competing in the Lancashire League against reserve and youth teams from other clubs in North West England.


    Then there was the ''B'' Team. Established in 1955, it consisted of younger players than the ''A'' Team and competed in Division Two of the Lancashire League.


    Before the introduction of ''Under-19'' and ''Under-17'' teams in English football, teams were referred to as the ''A'' and ''B'' teams, respectively.


    This was also the case for Manchester City. It highlights just how far behind youth football in England was at the time, especially when Richard saw Manchester City dominate Europe.


    After several rounds of discussion, the group finally arrived at a draft that seemed acceptable to all parties. The reshuffling plan was finalized, and Richard''s nomination was included as part of the restructuring process.


    After a final round of minor edits, the draft was complete. The next step was to present the proposal at the upcoming meeting, where an official announcement would be made. This would ensure that every employee and player at the club was aware of the changes.


    After the meeting was complete, the other board members bid farewell, not forgetting to say a few final words:


    "Remember, you''re part of us now."


    "Take care, boy."


    "We''re counting on you to develop our youth system."


    "Kid, be careful on your way home."


    Richard nodded, feeling the weight of their words. The mix of warmth and expectation lingered as he left the room, fully aware that things had changed.


    Now, as an official director of Manchester City Football Club¡ªeven if only on paper¡ªhis responsibilities had grown significantly. In addition to his shareholding, he now held fiduciary duties to act in the club''s best interests, along with legal obligations under UK company law.


    While his role as a shareholder remained mostly passive, his position as a director required far more from him¡ªat least for now.


    With his power still fragile, he needed to tread carefully. Delivering results quickly was crucial, not only to solidify his position but also to avoid potential legal pitfalls such as breaching the Company Directors'' Disqualification Act or the Insolvency Act.


    Normally, as long as he avoided repeated violations of company law or any involvement in fraudulent activities, he would be safe. But with his knowledge of the future and the coming wave of football''s globalization, he wasn''t taking any chances.


    Football was becoming increasingly competitive and expensive. It wouldn''t be surprising if boardroom conflicts arose¡ªand if that happened, he would likely be the first scapegoat.


    Even if he followed the rules, there was no guarantee they wouldn''t use the club''s performance against him, twisting the results into a justification for removing him. After all, his appointment as a director was already built on shaky ground.


    Still, being a director came with certain advantages. He now had access to the club''s management structure, financial reports, and internal operations at a much deeper level.


    While browsing through the Articles¡ªthe club''s internal rulebook outlining powers and responsibilities¡ªhis eyes landed on a crucial document: the Register of Members and Directors.


    This record listed all top executives, past and present, along with their full names, service addresses, and details of their appointments or resignations.


    As he scanned the document, a critical piece of information made him sit up straight.


    It revealed just how much power was concentrated at the top. Swales and Cussons alone controlled over 57% of the shares combined.


    Richard picked up his draft copy and carefully calculated the numbers, fully aware of how delicate his position was.


    The total number of shares amounted to 2,060, distributed as follows:


    The top:


    - Peter Swales, the Chairman, holds the largest portion with 619 shares, representing (30.05%)


    - Simon Cussons, the Vice-Chairman, owns 566 shares, accounting for (27.48%)


    - Joe Smith, one of the Presidents, holds 366 shares (17.77%)


    - Albert Alexander, the "honorary" President, owns 251 shares (12.18%)


    Among the Vice Presidents:


    Eric Alexander has 87 shares (4.22%)


    John Humphreys holds 46 shares (2.23%)


    Sidney Rose has 43 shares (2.09%)


    Chris Muir owns 40 shares (1.94%)


    Moving to the Directors:


    Ian Niven possesses 21 shares (1.02%)


    Robert Harris holds 20 shares (0.97%)


    Richard Maddox holds only a single share, representing just 0.05% of the total ownership.


    Manchester City, at this time, was still a public company¡ªthough not a listed one. This meant its shares were privately held by a small group of investors and not traded on the stock exchange.


    As a result, power remained tightly controlled within an inner circle, free from the scrutiny and regulations imposed on publicly listed companies.


    After finishing his review, Richard shifted his focus to the club''s recent performances.


    Manchester City had recently competed in the prestigious Colombina Tournament in Huelva, Andalusia. They managed to defeat Barcelona on penalties but then lost the final¡ªalso on penalties¡ªto Huelva.


    City had started the league season with a promising 3-1 victory over Wimbledon''s infamous ''Crazy Gang.''


    That was followed by a respectable 0-0 draw against Liverpool at Anfield, but then a disappointing 1-0 defeat to Tottenham.


    Now, after 11 fixtures, Manchester City had won just 1 match, drawn 4, and lost 6¡ªa deeply concerning run of form.


    Manager Billy McNeill and Assistant Manager Jimmy Frizzell were under mounting pressure, with performances at Maine Road leaving fans and board members frustrated about the club''s direction.

 Chapter 16 - 16: Citys A-Team

    The year 1986 marked the beginning of a new era in English football, especially in Manchester, where the city''s fierce rivalry was about to take on a whole new dimension.


    While Manchester City struggled with inconsistent performances both on and off the pitch, their neighbor, Manchester United, was about to embark on a transformative period.


    This was the year Sir Alex Ferguson took charge of Manchester United, a managerial appointment that would change the course of the club''s history forever.


    After reviewing the club''s articles, Ms. Heysen, the senior secretary, gently knocked on Richard''s office door before stepping in.


    "Mr. Richard, the youth team is about to finish their training," she informed him. "It might be a good time to introduce yourself."


    Richard looked up from the scattered papers. "Give me a minute," he replied, quickly organizing the documents and handing them over to Ms. Heysen with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Ms. Heysen. I appreciate the heads-up."


    As they walked through the narrow corridors, Richard couldn''t help but ask about Manchester City''s youth setup¡ªTeam A and Team B¡ªhoping to get a complete picture of how things were run.


    Ms. Heysen, who had been with the club for years, smiled knowingly. "Team A follows a pretty disciplined schedule. They train..."


    She went on to explain the details, and Richard felt a touch of sadness hearing it. English football, especially for clubs without the financial resources, could be grueling. Clubs like Manchester City, underperforming and struggling, were a prime example.


    As they continued down the corridor, they spotted a man carrying a large basket filled with freshly cleaned jerseys and training kits. The sight made Ms. Heysen''s eyes light up.


    "Mr. Rouse! Wait a moment!" she called, raising her hand.


    The man, startled, came to an abrupt stop. Seeing the club secretary, he tilted his head curiously, the heavy basket resting against his hip.


    Ms. Heysen, with Richard following behind, quickly caught up. "Mr. Rouse, are you heading to the dressing room?"


    "Yes, I am," he replied, adjusting the basket for better balance.


    "Perfect," she said with a warm smile. "Let me introduce you. Richard, this is Jimmy Rouse, our dressing room caretaker. Jimmy, meet Richard Maddox, the new youth coach."


    Rouse wiped his hands on his shirt before extending one to Richard. Richard shook it firmly, feeling the callouses of someone who had spent years working for the club.


    "Pleasure to meet you, Richard. Welcome to the club," Jimmy said with a friendly grin.


    "Thanks. Happy to be here," Richard replied, returning the smile.


    Ms. Heysen clasped her hands together, satisfied. "I''ll leave you two to it. Mr. Rouse will show you around from here." She gave Richard an encouraging nod before disappearing down the corridor.


    For a brief moment, Richard stood still, unsure of what to say next. But Mr. Rouse''s warm, easygoing demeanor quickly broke the ice.


    "Come on, lad. Let me show you where all the real magic happens," he grinned, nodding toward the dressing rooms.


    As they walked, Richard felt himself begin to relax. The conversation flowed easily, especially as they discussed the current state of the club and the youth setup.


    Manchester City used Maine Road stadium for everything ¡ª matches, training, and for both the first team and the youth squads.


    The issue was glaringly clear: the first team took priority. Their matches and training sessions were scheduled first, and only once they were done could the youth team use the facilities. On days when first-team players stayed longer, the youth players had to wait even more.


    It was a different story when the oil money started to flow. But right now, the current Manchester City simply couldn''t afford to build a separate training complex for the youth squads, leaving them to work around the first team''s schedule¡ªa tough reality for any young footballer.


    "Alright, Richard, this is where I''ll leave you," Mr. Rouse said, stopping just outside the entrance to the training ground. "I''ve brought you as far as I can."


    Richard smiled warmly. "Thank you very much, Mr. Rouse."


    Mr. Rouse chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Ah, just call me Jimmy," he said, adjusting the basket before heading down the corridor.


    Richard raised his head, gazing at the pitch-black night sky as the sound of the rain pattering down filled the air. He shifted his eyes back to the scene in front of him. He stood beside a lush, green football field, its grass glistening under the glow of the floodlights.


    ''Ah¡­ Manchester,'' he thought. ''When will this rain ever stop?''


    Richard rubbed his hands together to warm them against the damp chill before pulling the hood of his City sky-blue raincoat over his head to shield himself from the persistent drizzle.


    On the field, he noticed two middle-aged men deep in discussion, surrounded by more than ten young football players who listened attentively, hanging on to every word.


    One of the men was none other than Tony Book, a true Manchester City legend. Nicknamed "Skip," he had captained the club during the iconic 1967/68 season, leading the team and playing every single match.


    Beside him stood Glyn Pardoe, another respected figure¡ªa loyal servant to City both as a player and later as a youth coach. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Both Book and Pardoe had been with the club since the early 1960s and joined the youth staff in the early 1980s, solidifying their places as key figures within the structure. Now, they were the current Team A manager and assistant manager, respectively.


    "Alright, that''s it for today. Dismissed!" Book called out to the team, signaling the end of training.


    As he and Pardoe turned to leave, they noticed someone approaching from the sidelines. Both men exchanged puzzled glances.


    ''Is he late?'' Book wondered. ''No, that''s impossible. Wait¡­ who is this?''


    As far as they knew, there had been no notice from the scouting department about any new player joining, which only deepened their confusion.


    Unaware of their thoughts, Richard strode forward, extending his hand in greeting.


    "Manager Book, Assistant Manager Pardoe, good day. My name is Richard Maddox. I''m the new youth coach."


    The two men blinked, momentarily speechless. ''A new staff member?'' Pardoe thought. ''Shouldn''t we have been told first?''


    Then, as if a memory had just clicked into place, Pardoe nudged Book''s elbow and whispered, "Wasn''t there a rumor about a new coach joining? The one we heard about yesterday?"


    Book''s expression changed as the realization dawned. That''s right¡ªthere had been talk about a new coach, a former player joining the youth setup. He thought that was just a rumor¡­ but wasn''t he a bit too young?


    Still, it was rude to keep someone waiting, so both men stepped forward and offered a handshake.


    "Have you just joined?" Book asked, his tone polite but curious.


    "Yes, I have," Richard replied, shaking both their hands.


    "Well then, welcome to Manchester City," Book said, giving a slight nod.


    "Thank you. It''s great to be here," Richard replied, though an awkward silence quickly settled over the group.


    None of them seemed sure what to say next. Pardoe, breaking the tension, spoke up. "I heard you used to play?"


    "Yes," Richard replied with a small smile. "I played for Sheffield Wednesday."


    Book and Pardoe exchanged a quick look, their interest piqued. Sheffield Wednesday had been one of their old First Division opponents.


    "Sheffield Wednesday, eh?" Book said, raising an eyebrow. "Didn''t expect that. But¡­ if you don''t mind me asking, why are you here coaching instead of playing? You look pretty young."


    Richard hesitated for a moment before answering, his smile tinged with something bittersweet. "Yeah¡­ I''m retired."


    "Retired?"


    Book and Pardoe traded bewildered looks of shock. The guy in front of them barely looked twenty¡ªhow could he already be retired?


    "Wait, what was your name again?"


    Book''s brow furrowed as if something had just clicked in his mind.


    "Richard Maddox," Richard replied.


    "Richard¡­ Maddox¡­ Sheffield Wednesday¡­" Book murmured, rubbing his chin, trying to place the familiar name.


    It wasn''t until Pardoe suddenly blurted out, his voice filled with realization, "The one who fractured his skull?" that it all came rushing back.


    Richard gave a quiet, confirming nod.


    "No way!" Pardoe exclaimed, initially shocked, but then his voice shifted to something livelier, more engaged¡ªcompletely different from his earlier indifferent tone.


    After all, back in 1970, he had also broken his right leg so badly that doctors feared they might have to amputate it. The thought had terrified him. But after two years of relentless effort and sacrifice, he managed to recover and return to the pitch.


    He could relate deeply to Richard''s pain¡ªit felt like an unspoken camaraderie between players who had both been through "Rehab United."


    "So, you''re that Richard Maddox," Book added gently, his eyes filled with sympathy.


    A prodigy, someone they all expected to become a star. But instead, his career had ended far too soon, in the most heartbreaking way.


    Soon, the three of them found themselves deep in conversation, the initial awkwardness fading away.


    They talked about football, the highs and lows of the game, dealing with serious injuries, and the spoken and unspoken rules of Manchester City''s A-team.


    "It''s strange," Richard mused. "One moment, you''re dreaming of lifting trophies, and the next, you''re in a hospital bed wondering if you''ll ever kick a ball again."


    Pardoe nodded in understanding. "I know that feeling too well. After my leg injury, I thought it was all over. The hardest part wasn''t the pain¡ªit was the fear. Fear of losing everything you worked for."


    Book chimed in, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "Injuries can break you, but they can also build you. It''s about what you do next that counts. You being here, Richard, proves that."


    A small smile crept onto Richard''s face. "Thanks, I''m trying."


    After a moment of shared silence, they arrived at the office.


    It was modest and simple¡ªa shared space with four desks lined up close together. Papers were scattered across the tabletops, and a couple of aging filing cabinets stood against the walls, their drawers slightly ajar and filled with documents.


    "This is the office?" Richard asked, glancing around.


    Book chuckled at his reaction. "Yep, this is it. Not much, is it?"


    Richard waved his hand, clarifying that wasn''t what he meant. "No, I mean¡ªit works. This desk''s empty, right? Can I sit here?"


    He was surprised. The office wasn''t just cramped; several desks were empty. Only three had papers scattered on top. ''So, only three people work here?'' he thought. With me, that makes four.


    "Yes, go ahead. That desk''s free," Pardoe replied, settling into his chair. "We''re a tight-knit team. Not many resources, but we''ve got heart. Most of the club''s budget goes to the first team. Youth setups like ours¡­ well, we make do with less."


    Richard nodded thoughtfully.


    After a moment of silence, Pardoe asked, "Do you want to become a professional coach?"


    The question took Richard by surprise.


    "Haha, it''s not hard to guess. For someone who loves football, if you can''t play anymore, you either jump into coaching or end up talking about the game instead of playing it. But in the end, we all stay close to football."


    Richard pondered for a moment. "Is it difficult?"


    Pardoe brushed it off with a casual wave. "Since you''re an ex-pro, not really. It''s just about gaining experience¡ªmanaging, coaching¡ªand finishing the courses to get your badge. With your background, the club could fast-track you to get certified quickly."


    "Hearing this, Richard grew curious. ''Before I made my debut at Sheffield, my coach at that time mentioned something about the youth award module. Is that the way to go?''"


    "That''s for first-timers," Tony Book chimed in, placing a stack of documents on Richard''s desk. "If your performance is good, within 12 to 15 months, you could be managing the youth team on your own. And in two or three years, you might even be coaching a professional team."


    "Oh," Richard murmured, not responding right away. Instead, he opened the documents in front of him, which outlined the current A team.


    As he skimmed through them, a thought crossed his mind: ''Wouldn''t it be easier to just hire Pep directly and watch the team dominate the match from a sky box?''

 Chapter 17 - 17: Tactical Scout

    Manchester City: Steve Crompton (GK), Steve Mills, Andy Hinchcliffe, Ian Brightwell, Steve Redmond, Andy Thackeray, David White, Paul Moulden, Paul Lake, Ian Scott, David Boyd.


    Sub: Steve Macauley.


    Richard was speechless looking at the list. He raised his head, eyes scanning the names again, his voice barely above a whisper, "Are they the only ones in the A-team now?"


    Book, feeling just as helpless, raised his hands in defeat. "Yeah, it''s beyond our control. The club''s in a tough spot right now."


    He sank into the chair, then a sigh escaping him. "We can''t count on the club anymore, not with most of the funds getting swallowed up by transfers every summer."


    Richard frowned, thinking about it from the perspective of someone looking ahead.


    If the club continued on this path, he realized, Manchester City wouldn''t be competitive in the next two decades. No, in fact, Manchester City will fall behind the top teams for at least the next two decades¡ªat least, until Sheikh Mansour arrives.


    If they wanted to change the current trajectory, they needed to start running the club like a business. Relying solely on the existing funding model wasn''t a viable solution, especially for short-term growth.


    So, what revenue streams could a club tap into? The answer was clear: player scarcity effect.


    The formation of the English Premier League in 1992-93 marked the beginning of an era of fierce competition, not only on the pitch but off it as well. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Clubs found themselves trapped in an ongoing cycle of spending, trying to keep up with rising player wages and the pressure to attract the best talent.


    As the competition for players grew, fueled by the Bosman Ruling in 1995¡ªwhich allowed players to become free agents after their contracts expired and removed restrictions on foreign players¡ªthe financial landscape changed dramatically.


    Football clubs suddenly had access to a much wider pool of talent, but this also meant they had to outbid each other for top-tier players, often leading to astronomical transfer fees and soaring wage demands.


    With player costs escalating, clubs began to feel the squeeze. Attendance figures plateaued, and while television deals were lucrative, they weren''t enough to cover the rising financial demands of running a club.


    This is where the business side of football became crucial. Yes, of course. To stay competitive, clubs began exploring new revenue streams.


    Sponsorships, merchandising, broadcasting rights¡ªyou name it¡ªbecame the lifeblood of many teams as they raced to secure additional funds to stay afloat amidst rising player salaries and transfer fees.


    Still, as far as he knew, all those revenue streams typically came in the form of deal packages with terms and conditions.


    There were requirements the club had to meet¡ªlike qualifying for the Champions League, winning domestic titles, or leveraging a star player to enhance the brand''s appeal and attract bigger sponsorships.


    In the end, Richard racked his brain and came up with only one answer: human traffi¡ªWait, no, scratch that. ''I mean buying and selling players.''


    As someone with knowledge of the future, what else did he need, aside from using that advantage to secure talent as early as possible?


    What was the most profitable way to run a football club?


    What was the quickest, most cost-effective way to generate money?


    For current football clubs, buying and selling players can indeed generate massive profits, but the problem is, it''s not always the most consistent or reliable revenue stream.


    That''s different for him, however.


    Just think about it¡ªbuy a player who''s still a diamond in the rough, spend less than a million pounds, and then flip him for twenty, fifty, or even a hundred million.


    And you can do it twice a year. Doesn''t that sound like the most profitable strategy ever?


    Forget the rest, this is the future of football!


    "Becoming a scout could be a good choice..."


    "What?"


    Book frowned, taken aback by Richard''s sudden bluntness.


    Richard was also snapped back from his thought. He hadn''t noticed the others around him, so he quickly shook his head. "No, I mean... I guess becoming a scout is also a good option for me."


    "Aren''t you aiming to be a coach?"


    "Can I be both a coach and a scout at the same time?"


    "Well... yes and no. There''s no rule against it, but if you want to be a coach, you have to commit. The roles can overlap, and balancing scouting with coaching duties can be really demanding.


    "There are also confidentiality concerns," Pardoe chimed in. "If a coach is scouting players from other teams, they might have to be discreet to avoid any conflicts."


    But Richard wasn''t giving up. "Isn''t there another way? The roles seem pretty similar, don''t they? From a professional standpoint, finding talent and coaching them go hand in hand."


    For many football fans, being a football scout is a dream job. Not only do you get paid to watch football, but it''s also exciting to attempt to predict which players would make a good signing for your club.


    "Well..."


    Book and Pardoe nodded silently. Honestly, he wasn''t the first to think this way. They had considered it too, but in the end, both roles were too demanding to manage simultaneously. While the club didn''t specifically forbid it, balancing both jobs would still be a challenge.


    Richard, however, had already thought it through. Back in the Pre-Bosman Era, when the football transfer system was dominated by player contracts and transfer fees, player movement was strictly controlled by the clubs.


    His main concern was likely rooted in the ethical implications surrounding the discovery, recommendation, and poaching of players. There were also numerous rules to consider, including FA policies, contractual obligations, potential role conflicts, and FIFA regulations.


    Ultimately, to avoid any ethical dilemmas, he could easily seek clarification from the club and the staff he is working with to ensure there are no conflicts of interest or breaches of contractual obligations. Well, it would be a simple matter for him to do so.


    "Actually, I don''t recommend this, though, especially if you''re thinking of joining my team," Book said, wanting to make his point clear. "I mean, listen carefully¡ªif you want to take on dual roles, how can I be sure that you''ll be able to work effectively as a coach?"


    Sensing the tension, Pardoe interjected, "Or here''s another idea, Richard: How about you take a look at your contract first? Are you sure there''s no breach of contract there?"


    "Actually, when I was recruited, what the higher-ups wanted most was for me to replicate the way Sheffield identified me back then. Also with my understanding of tactics. I mean..." Richard paused, then thought of something.


    ''Wait, actually, being a scout and a coach, isn''t being a tactical scout just the same thing?''


    A tactical scout is a type of scout who focuses not only on identifying talented players but also on evaluating how players fit into specific tactical systems or styles of play. Or they could also study the opponent''s tactics, not just focusing on the players.


    Simply put, tactical scouts do more in-depth research and analysis. This allows him more time to learn coaching management, search for players who will become expensive and access the club''s databases at the same time. Isn''t that killing three birds with one stone?


    Scouting in the 1980s was very different from modern scouting. Since agents weren''t as popular, most players at the time were represented by their family members. This made the scout''s job to reach out, so most of the time, club databases stored information like addresses and family situations.


    Excited, Richard slapped the table and stood up. "How about this¡ªI could start as a volunteer or part-time first, then see where it leads me. Think about it¡ªit might be better for me not to disturb the team in the middle of the season, right? Later, whatever role suits me, I can just resign from the other one. Isn''t that a good idea?"


    Book and Pardoe exchanged a glance, silently communicating through their eyes. If things went this way, they would certainly have no problem with it. They didn''t mind it; in fact, they preferred it!


    Bringing in a new coach often shifts the entire dynamic of the staff and the team¡ªaffecting training methods, tactics, and player management. This could lead to a reassessment of roles and responsibilities within the staff.


    Still, they couldn''t be too obvious about pushing him in that direction, right?


    "But this is just between us, right? We haven''t talked to the scouting team yet. I mean, they haven''t agreed to anything, have they?" Pardoe asked, his face tinged with uncertainty.


    "Don''t worry," Richard replied confidently, patting his chest. "I''ll talk to them. You just need to introduce me."


    Eventually, an agreement was reached.


    Tony, Glyn, and Richard found themselves sitting on the sidelines of the lush green field, gazing out at the empty red stands.


    Three cleaners moved methodically through the seats, sweeping up debris, while a few turf maintenance workers in the distance trimmed the grass, ensuring the pitch was in perfect condition for the upcoming showdown between the two Manchester clubs next week.


    The three of them waited patiently for the current chief scout to arrive at six o''clock. It was a September evening, and although the hour was growing late, the summer sun still lingered in the sky.


    The Eastern and Western horizons painted two completely different scenes. On one side, the night sky was speckled with the first hints of starlight, while the other glowed with a delicate sunset, its colors stretching thin like chiffon across the horizon.


    The two worlds met in the middle, blending into a surreal, almost dreamlike canvas¡ªan evening suspended between reality and fantasy.


    The team currently had only two full-time scouts, both of whom were constantly on the road, searching for talented young players across Britain and doing their best to recruit them for the youth training camp at Maine Road.


    One was the chief scout, while the other focused mainly on player area analysis. There was no one else to assist them with the workload.


    When the person they had been waiting for finally arrived, the three of them wasted no time and went straight to the point.


    "Volunteer?" Ken Barnes raised an eyebrow, giving the three of them a questioning look, his face filled with doubt.


    "Yes," Richard replied eagerly, nodding. "If I could also work part-time as a scout, even better. You don''t need to pay me¡ªjust let me tag along, observe, and learn. That''s all I''m asking."


    ''Who is this young man?'' Barnes thought, eyeing his two colleagues with skepticism.


    Ken Barnes, Manchester City''s current chief scout and a member of the 50s Cup-winning team, studied Richard closely, curiosity flickering in his eyes.


    "Hmm¡­" Barnes rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It''s not every day someone offers to work for free just to learn. But tagging along isn''t as simple as it sounds. Scouting is more than just watching matches¡ªit takes skill, instinct, and experience."


    Had Richard come alone and made such a bold request, Barnes would have dismissed it on the spot. But since he had arrived with the manager Book and assistant manager Pardoe, it felt like a silent endorsement, and he knew he had to be tactful.


    It was a quiet misunderstanding between the three parties, but for Richard, the situation was working in his favor.


    Richard smiled slightly. "I understand scouting isn''t easy, but I''m willing to start small¡ªlocal youth matches, lower leagues. No, in fact, I won''t aim for the first or second divisions. I want to focus solely on grassroots."


    At first, Barnes hadn''t taken him too seriously, but hearing this made his expression grow serious. "You said you only want to scout at the grassroots level?"


    "Yes, just teach me how to create the report card and how to access the databases, and everything will be fine on my own."


    Standing beside Barnes was another scout, Ted Davies¡ªthe kind of man who wore multiple hats at the club.


    Academy scout, first-team scout, tactical analyst¡ªyou name it, Ted did it. He was stretched thin, the weight of his many roles showing in the tired lines on his face.


    When Ted Davies heard there might be new blood joining, a wave of hope washed over him. He and Barnes had just spent the day visiting three local schools, searching for homegrown talent, and the exhaustion was starting to show.


    If someone could take that load off his shoulders¡­ He shot a hopeful glance at Barnes, silently wishing the chief would give his approval.

 Chapter 18 - 18: Citys Day

    Time passed quickly, and along the way, many significant events unfolded. One of the most transformative was the British government and the London Stock Exchange''s decision to revolutionize the London securities market in October.


    This overhaul reshaped everything¡ªfrom the market''s structure to who could participate and how traders were governed.


    The rapid pace and scale of these changes earned it the nickname "Big Bang," and its impact was nothing short of dramatic.


    As the extent of the transformation became clear, the City of London''s re-emergence started to take shape.


    Unlike in the past, this time there was solid evidence of progress, with governance reflecting a firmer stance on the city''s regeneration.


    The Big Bang introduced sweeping reforms: it ended fixed commissions, allowed mergers and takeovers by removing the separation between dealers and advisors, and opened London''s market to international banks.


    These changes brought a wave of competition and dramatically altered London''s financial landscape.


    Large banks quickly overtook traditional firms, while medium and smaller companies hesitated, unsure of how to adapt. Meanwhile, on the consumer side, the liberalization of the mortgage market made borrowing easier, leading to a significant rise in household debt.


    Financial institutions offered increasingly attractive and varied mortgage products, encouraging consumers to take on more debt and fueling a surge in spending and investment in the housing market.


    Sensing an opportunity, large financial corporations wasted no time capitalizing on these changes.


    Smaller and medium-sized firms, which initially adopted a wait-and-see stance, also didn''t want to be left behind, contributing to the rapid rise in property prices.


    With the economy booming, the government, eager to ride the wave, pushed for even more expansion.


    Politicians rushed to claim credit for the economic success, while those left behind scrambled to find ways to align themselves with the achievements.


    Tax cuts, decreased interest rates, and relaxed credit conditions were introduced one by one, each without proper measurement, further fueling consumer spending and investment.


    January 31, 1987 ¡ª just a month after the New Year, Richard arrived early at the Islington Housing Council. The reason was simple: Stuart, who had managed all of his building purchases in Islington, had requested a meeting.


    As he entered, two sharply dressed gentlemen were already waiting. They stood up, greeted him warmly, and shook his hand. Without much delay, Stuart got straight to the point ¡ª these two gentlemen were interested in buying his buildings.


    "Mr. Richard, it''s a pleasure to finally meet you. First, let me offer my condolences for your injury. My name is Taylor, from Barclays," one of them said with a polite smile.


    "Mr. Taylor, good morning," Richard replied, returning the handshake.


    The second man stepped forward. "My condolences as well, Mr. Richard. I''m Philip, from Lloyds Banking Group."


    "Mr. Philip, good morning," Richard responded, nodding appreciatively.


    As they discussed and negotiated, Stuart wiped the cold sweat trickling down his forehead. Despite the fall weather bringing cooler temperatures compared to summer, he couldn''t help but sweat. He hadn''t expected Islington''s property market to boom like this!


    "If I had known¡­" he sighed, unable to stop the wave of regret washing over him.


    Another hour passed, and Richard shook hands with the two gentlemen.


    "Mr. Taylor, Mr. Philip, it''s been a pleasure doing business with you."


    "Likewise, Mr. Richard," Taylor replied before adding, "By the way, if you don''t mind us asking, we''ve heard that you still own several buildings in this area. Would you be interested in discussing any potential deals with us?"


    Stuart''s heart skipped a beat. If they were reaching out via the Islington Council, it meant that they or he exactly was acting as an intermediary, which also meant he''d earn a commission and achievements.


    He couldn''t help but glance anxiously at Richard. But, of course, Richard was fully aware of this. With a polite smile, he declined.


    Mr. Taylor and Mr. Philip weren''t surprised by his response¡ªit was exactly what they had expected. They had only been testing the waters. Though slightly disappointed, it wasn''t enough to ruin their day. Instead, they handed over their business cards, offering their services


    "If you ever need assistance with banking or investments, don''t hesitate to reach out," Taylor said.


    "The same from me, Mr. Richard," Philip added, offering his card as well.


    Richard accepted both cards with a nod and assured them, "I''ll make sure to contact you first if I have any future investment plans."


    After finishing with the two bankers, Richard quickly thanked Stuart, bid him farewell, and hurriedly left the council. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He needed to get to Manchester as soon as possible. That was also why the two bankers had reached out to him through the council rather than directly¡ªhe was rarely in one place for long.


    It had become a routine for him¡ªever since he became part of City, he was constantly traveling back and forth between Manchester and London, and it was starting to take its toll.


    He began thinking about renting a place. Now that he had some money, maybe it was time to rent something cheap in Manchester.


    Arriving at Manchester Piccadilly station, Richard quickly got into a cab heading toward Maine Road.


    As the taxi weaved through the busy streets, he leaned back, exhaustion catching up with him. Still, there was a buzz of excitement in his chest. Unable to hold the news in, he pulled out his phone and called his mother, Anna.


    "Mom, can you go to the bank and check my account? I sold the buildings today," he said, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the hint of pride in his voice.


    "The buildings? You sold them? All of them?" There was a brief pause before she replied in surprise.


    "Of course not," he chuckled. "I sold two¡ªthe ones on Upper St."


    "Oh? How much did you sell them for?" she asked, still not fully realizing the significance.


    Not wanting to spoil the surprise, Richard grinned. "Just please help me check it, Mom. Alright? I have a match to attend. Bye, Mom."


    "Good luck, then. And don''t forget to eat something proper today!"


    "I won''t, Mom. Thanks. I''ll call you later."


    They hung up, and Richard let out a deep breath, feeling a bit lighter. The cab pulled up near Maine Road, and Richard paid the driver before stepping out.


    Crowds swarmed the streets¡ªwaves of sky blue and deep red flooded the area around the stadium.


    Full Members'' Cup Quarter-Final: Manchester City vs. Ipswich Town!

 Chapter 19 - 19: Relegated

    Full Members'' Cup was the second edition of the tournament created to compensate for the ban on English clubs from European football following the Heysel Stadium disaster.


    Since Manchester City was playing at home, they wore their iconic sky blue kit, while Ipswich took the field in their maroon away jerseys. The energy in the air was electric, and Richard could feel the anticipation building as he watched fans making their way toward the stadium entrance.


    Richard didn''t know exactly how Manchester City would fare this season.


    Their first-team manager, Billy McNeill, had quit last September, just a month after the English First Division had started, to take over at Aston Villa. His position was filled by his assistant manager, Jimmy Frizzell.


    Their performance?


    Enough to make the board despair.


    In the EFL Cup fourth-round, they were knocked out by Arsenal with a 3-1 defeat.


    The FA Cup third-round, which concluded just two weeks ago, also saw them eliminated by their city rivals, Manchester United, with a 1-0 loss.


    In the First Division, while their city rivals are comfortably mid-table, they''re battling relegation! S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The funny part is Aston Villa''s performance under ex-City manager Billy McNeill. They''re also fighting relegation alongside City.


    Some even say the battle for the top spot in the relegation zone is a showdown between former colleagues Billy McNeill and Jimmy Frizzell.


    City: Suckling, Gidman, Wilson, Clements, McCarthy, Grealish, Simpson, McNab, Varadi, Lake, Barnes ¨C Subs Redmond, Scott


    Ipswich: Cooper, Zondervan, McCall, Atkins, Dozzell, Cranson, Humes, Brennan, Deehan, Wilson, Gleghorn ¨C Subs Yallop, Cole


    Richard adjusted his scarf tighter around his neck as he made his way up the steps of Maine Road, the chill of a late January afternoon biting through his coat.


    Today, he clutched a paper ticket like any other supporter, weaving through the crowd before finally settling into a worn-out seat amidst a sea of sky-blue scarves.


    ''It''s weird,'' he thought. No matter how many times he came to matches in this era, the atmosphere always felt... different.


    The cold concrete beneath his feet, the scent of meat pies mingling with cigarette smoke in the brisk air, and the raucous chatter of fans all around him¡ªit was a sensory overload, raw and authentic.


    The pre-match rituals of old-school football and the modern game were worlds apart, and he could feel it deeply.


    Here, everything felt more raw, spontaneous, and entirely fan-driven. The atmosphere was born in the stands¡ªconstant chanting and singing, crowds waving scarves and flags, and the occasional flare lighting up the terraces. It was messy, loud, and imperfect¡ªbut that was the charm.


    It was a stark contrast to the view from modern football, where the sports itself had become a spectacle. Clubs used PA systems, light shows, and jumbotron screens to play hype videos before kick-off. Fans still sang, of course, but the chants were often led by designated ultras or carefully pre-arranged routines.


    The atmosphere felt more orchestrated. And the flares? Those were either heavily regulated or outright banned.


    Even the pre-match coverage was different. It was simple¡ªa brief segment showing the line-ups before jumping straight into the action.


    Now, there were hours of build-up¡ªpundits dissecting tactics, making predictions, conducting player interviews, and broadcasting live shots of warm-ups.


    The player entrances had also changed. Here, he could see teams simply walking out side by side with the referee¡ªno mascots, no elaborate displays.


    Managers exchanged relaxed handshakes, if at all. There were no players strolling onto the pitch hand-in-hand with child mascots, standing behind anti-racism banners before kick-off.


    And then there were the tifo displays. Now they were spontaneous¡ªfans holding up scarves or homemade banners. It was heartfelt but chaotic. In the modern game, tifos had become massive, choreographed spectacles, sometimes involving thousands of fans unveiling professional-level artwork that could cover entire stands.


    For Richard himself, the modern game had its perks¡ªthe technology, the global reach¡ªbut there was something special about these moments. Something pure.


    The referee''s whistle echoed through Maine Road, pulling Richard back into the present. For all its changes, football was still football. And for now, that was enough.


    21st Minute ¨C City Strikes FirstRichard barely had time to settle before the first moment of magic. A long ball floated from the back, cutting through Ipswich''s midfield. Imre Varadi, City''s number nine, read it perfectly, slipping between two defenders. One bounce, then a fierce drive low past the keeper. The terrace around erupted¡ªhats thrown in the air, beer flying, strangers hugging. Maine Road at its best.


    24th Minute ¨C Ipswich Answers BackBut City''s joy was short-lived. Ipswich pressed forward almost immediately. A quick series of passes on the right flank left City''s defense scrambling. The ball was squared low across the box, and Ian Wilson met it first-time, guiding it past the outstretched arms of Suckling.


    "GOALLLL!!!!!"


    "BOOOOO!!!!"


    The roar erupted like a thunderclap, but the response from the home crowd was instant and venomous.


    It was unclear whether the boos were directed at Ipswich or City players for them failing to deliver better results.


    The sound of triumphant chants rippled through the stadium, while a deafening chorus of boos echoed like a tidal wave.


    46th Minute ¨C Varadi AgainThe second half began just as the first had ended¡ªchaotic and relentless. Barely a minute in, City pushed forward with intent. A looping cross from the left found Varadi again, leaping high between two defenders. His header was perfectly placed, arcing over the keeper into the net. Maine Road exploded in euphoria once more.


    Fans surged forward, some nearly spilling onto the pitch. Richard laughed aloud, caught up in the moment, forgetting himself entirely. It was pure, childlike joy.


    50th & 54th Minutes ¨C Ipswich''s ComebackBut football, cruel as ever, had other plans. Ipswich, refusing to fold, pressed on. From a corner in the 50th minute, the ball ricocheted off bodies before falling kindly to Tony Humes, who smashed it into the roof of the net. The away fans were delirious now.


    City seemed rattled, their earlier dominance slipping. Just four minutes later, calamity struck.


    A mistimed tackle inside the box sent an Ipswich player sprawling. The referee''s whistle echoed¡ªa penalty. Kevin Brennan stepped up, the stadium holding its breath. Suckling dived left; the ball went right. Ipswich led 3-2.


    The home crowd fell into a heavy silence, the kind that only football can summon¡ªa mix of frustration and disbelief.


    The Final Whistle.


    As the referee''s final whistle rang out, sealing City''s fate, fans around Richard were already making their way to the exits, muttering frustrations or offering half-hearted consolation to their family.


    The opposition, however, was different.


    "NA NA NA NAA... IPSWICH..."


    Their chants echoed through Maine Road, twisting the knife a little deeper into the hearts of the home crowd.

 Chapter 20 - 20: The Youth Enter the Stage

    Manchester City''s hopes of a return to Wembley were dashed as Ipswich edged out the Blues 3-2 at Maine Road in the Full Members Cup, deepening the gloom that had settled over the club.


    Off the pitch, major changes were unfolding for the second half of the season. New manager Jimmy Frizzell, entrusted with the task of steering City clear of relegation, made bold moves to reshape the squad.


    One of his first significant decisions was to accept an offer from Chelsea for Clive Wilson. However, as part of the deal, Wilson would remain a City player until the end of the season.


    Using most of the transfer fee, Frizzell secured striker Paul Stewart from Blackpool for ¡ê200,000¡ªa signing that brought hope but came too late for the Ipswich clash, as Stewart wasn''t registered in time to play.


    Without Stewart leading the line, City slumped to yet another defeat, leaving them third from bottom with just a quarter of the season remaining. The situation worsened as City suffered a humiliating 4-0 defeat at Leicester, followed by a goalless draw at Aston Villa.


    Goals had dried up, confidence was low, and relegation seemed inevitable. After relentless draws and disappointing results, now City could almost be certain.


    With only four games left, they needed a miracle¡ªand for a brief moment, it looked like they might just find one. But football has a way of offering hope when all seems lost.


    The Blues finally broke their winless streak, beating Arsenal 3-0 at Maine Road in a stunning performance. This was their first win since the January defeat to Ipswich Town in the Full Members Cup.


    That was followed by a hard-fought 0-0 draw away to table-topping Everton and a narrow 1-0 victory at home over Nottingham Forest. Suddenly, survival seemed within reach. The final day of the season saw City travel to the Boleyn Ground, needing results elsewhere to go their way.


    The Blues sat second from bottom on 39 points, with Charlton and Leicester just above them on 41. It was out of their hands, but hope still lingered.


    In the end, the mathematics didn''t matter.


    West Ham beat City 2-0, sealing their fate.


    The Blues were relegated along with Aston Villa¡ªironically managed by Billy McNeill, City''s former boss. McNeill''s unfortunate legacy was cemented that season, having managed two top-tier sides that were relegated in the same season.


    Oxford United ¨C 46 pts


    Charlton Athletic ¨C 44 pts


    Leicester City ¨C 42 pts


    Manchester City ¨C 39 pts


    Aston Villa ¨C 36 pts


    1986¨C87 Manchester City F.C. relegated to the Second Division.


    This relegation didn''t faze Richard, nor did it trouble his senior colleagues Ted Davies and Glyn Pardoe, or even his direct superiors, Tony Book and Ken Barnes. The reason?


    Manchester City''s youth team was preparing for something far greater¡ªthe chance to face Manchester United in the 1986 FA Youth Cup Final.


    It was the first-ever All-Manchester FA Youth Cup Final, a historic clash between the city''s two biggest clubs at the youth level. While it wasn''t the first all-Manchester FA final, this showdown carried a special weight.


    The disappointing performance by the main squad had left the fans disheartened. Now, with the young talent stepping into the spotlight, hope flickered once more.


    The youth team carried the dreams of the club and its supporters, offering a chance at redemption amidst the gloom of relegation.


    The match would be played over two legs: the first at Old Trafford and the second at Maine Road.


    Richard joined Tony Book, Glyn Pardoe, Jimmy Rouse, and John Collins. Remember when he first arrived at the office for the first time?


    There were four desks lined up in close quarters, papers scattered on them.


    These desks belonged to the four staff members of the Manchester City youth team: Tony Book, the manager; Glyn Pardoe, the assistant; Jimmy Rouse, the dressing room caretaker; and the last one, John Collins, another youth coach.


    When Richard arrived, he had been on sick leave and missed the chance to meet them right away. But now, the two had become colleagues. There was also another colleague from the scouting department, although Richard often found himself working closely with Ken Barnes and Ted Davies.


    Richard stood on the sidelines. Turning his gaze, he noticed United''s side.


    Arms crossed, he watched as his players gathered around, no doubt Eric Harrison, their manager, offering his own set of pre-match talk. He didn''t know what they were saying on their side, but it didn''t matter. He turned his attention back to his team.


    "I don''t think you need me to say anything more, do you? Do you all know what I like?"


    "Victory!" Redmond growled, and his teammates immediately agreed loudly.


    "Very good! Manchester United is not weak, surely, but we are also very strong. Do you want to disappoint your fans, family, and everyone who''s watching this game?"


    Although the players were shaking their heads, the excited looks on their faces were obvious.


    "That''s right! The United boys didn''t think of it either! Go and give them a surprise, lads!"


    "City! City! Victory!" The players roared together in a huddle and ran out to the field.


    Manchester United: Gary Walsh, Tony Gill, Lee Martin, Ian Scott, Steve Gardner (capt), Jon Bottomley, Aidan Murphy, Mark Todd, Dennis Cronin, David Wilson, Paul Harvey.


    Manager Eric Harrison.


    Manchester City: Steve Crompton, Steve Mills, Andy Hinchcliffe, Ian Brightwell, Steve Redmond (capt), Andy Thackeray, David White, Paul Moulden, Paul Lake, Ian Scott, David Boyd.


    Manager: Tony Book


    Referee: Vic Callow


    Attendance: 7,602


    After the start of the match, both teams played cautiously. Many of their usually successful coordinated plays turned into misses, likely due to the unsettling sight of the overwhelming crowd gathered along the sidelines, making it hard for the youngsters to calm their nerves.


    Redmond and Gardner, both captains, did their best to settle the nerves of their teammates, constantly urging them to focus and stay composed.


    As the first half wore on, the match became less about brilliance and more about resilience. Neither team managed to break the deadlock, and signs of frustration began to show.


    As the whistle blew for the end of the first half, the score remained 0-0. The players trudged off the pitch, heads down, fully aware that the battle was far from over. Whoever found their rhythm first in the second half would have the best chance of breaking the deadlock.


    The second half kicked off, and once again, young Manchester United showed their class. Their ability to remain calm and composed under pressure was impressive.


    In the 49th minute, Aidan Murphy, Manchester United''s silencer, received a long pass from captain Gardner and found a pocket of space just outside the box. With a quick glance and a precise strike, he sent the ball flying past the City goalkeeper, breaking the deadlock.


    Old Trafford erupted as United took the lead 1-0.


    Murphy''s goal was a testament to United''s poise and quality in such a high-stakes match. City now had to dig deep if they hoped to stay in the tie.


    Even Book couldn''t stay quiet. "Moulden! The left!" he began to roar, giving instructions.


    Manchester United settled into a more relaxed rhythm. The pace of their attack slowed as they passed the ball around in the backfield. Meanwhile, the increasingly frustrated City players surged forward, hoping to capitalize on any mistakes they could exploit.


    "What are you doing?! ATTACK!!" Eric Harrison, United manager shouted from the sideline as he saw his team losing their intensity.


    Winning 1-0 at Old Trafford was no reason to relax. After all, there was still the second leg to come at Maine Road.


    Both managers urged their players to push forward, and the tempo quickly picked up again. Aidan Murphy, who had scored earlier, made an off-ball run down the right wing, replicating the exact same scene that led to the opening goal.


    This time, however, City''s players had anticipated the move. left-back Steve Mills positioned himself, ready for the challenge. However As Murphy charged forward, City''s left midfielder, Andy Thackeray, trailed behind him, trying desperately to catch up and block him from the back.


    Thackeray lunged from behind, tackling Murphy and sending both players tumbling to the ground. As they tried to get back on their feet, Murphy, still fuming from the rough tackle, instinctively nudged Thackeray. Fueled by adrenaline, Thackeray, though momentarily stunned, wasn''t one to back down. He squared up to Murphy, and the crowd erupted¡ªa fight was brewing.


    WOAH!


    No one expected such drama. The atmosphere on the pitch grew chaotic, with tension at an all-time high as Aidan Murphy and Andy Thackeray clashed. Pushing and shoving ensued, their frustrations boiling over. Teammates rushed in to separate the two, signaling for them to stop.


    Suddenly, a sharp whistle sliced through the air. The main referee blew his whistle forcefully. "Oi, enough!" he shouted, rushing over and stepping between the players.


    "Everyone, back off! Now!" His voice rang out, stern and commanding. "You two¡ªout!" he declared, raising his hand and showing a red card.


    Murphy and Thackeray exchanged one last, heated glare before being pulled apart by their teammates and the officials.


    "Calm down!" Manager Book shouted at Thackeray. "This is football, not a street fight. Get it together!"


    The other party could only scowl and storm off toward the dressing room. Richard, noticing the situation immediately, stepped forward, offering to lend a hand.


    "Coach, I got this," he said.


    Book couldn''t divert his attention from the game, so Pardoe, his assistant. Sometimes they would sit down briefly to discuss tactics before making any strategic changes. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With this, the acting coach fell to Collins, as he often served as the bridge between Book and Pardoe, communicating with the officials and looking out for any emergencies that might arise


    It was Richard who stepped in to calm Thackeray down. He followed him from behind, sensing the turmoil within the young midfielder, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.


    "Hey, it happens," Richard said gently. "I know you''re upset, but you need to keep your head in the game. We''ve got another leg, and we can still turn this around."


    Thackeray looked up, his eyes red with frustration. "I just¡­ I lost my cool. I let the team down."


    "No," Richard replied firmly. "You didn''t let anyone down. We''re all in this together, and there''s still a chance to fix things. Focus on the second leg. It''s not over until the final whistle blows."


    "Can I still play in the second leg?"


    Richard paused for a moment. If this were the real FA Cup, it would be impossible, he thought. But since this was the youth cup, both clubs could likely appeal the red cards. After all, no one wanted to leave a scar on these young players.


    Richard sighed, glancing at Thackeray. "I don''t know."


    Hearing this, Thackeray looked dejected, his shoulders slumping.


    "But," Richard continued, "there must be some leeway," he said and continued, "especially if we believe it was too harsh. We can appeal the red card, and I believe Manchester United will definitely make an appeal too. If we handle this right, there''s a good chance you''ll be cleared to play in the second leg."


    Thackeray''s eyes brightened with hope. "You think it could work?"


    Richard nodded. "Based on my experience, yes."


    With that, Thackeray began to calm down. If it had been Book or Pardoe trying to talk to him, he might not have opened up. But Richard, freshly retired and not much older than him, offered a different kind of connection, making communication feel easier for both.


    "GOAAAALLL!!!"


    Unknowingly, a sudden roar echoed through the stadium, and both of them looked at each other.


    Thackeray''s nerves spiked, and though Richard felt it too, he was anxious inside but knew better than to let it show.


    "I''ll go check," Richard said, not waiting for a response as he hurried off.


    The waiting felt unbearable. Thackeray''s mind raced¡ªthis moment felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.


    If United scored again, City would be trailing 2-0. Even though both teams were down to ten men, the guilt of letting his teammates down gnawed at him.


    Unable to sit still, Thackeray paced back and forth, his heart pounding as he waited for Richard''s return.


    TAP TAP TAP


    The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Thackeray''s heart skipped a beat.


    Richard came running, breathless but beaming with excitement. "Huff... huff... PAUL SCORED! It''s 1-1 now!"

 Chapter 21 - 21: The Season is Over

    Maine Road, 29 April 1986


    Manchester City: Steve Crompton, Steve Mills, Andy Hinchcliffe, Ian Brightwell, Steve Redmond (capt), Andy Thackeray, David White, Paul Moulden, Paul Lake, Ian Scott, David Boyd.


    Manager: Tony Book


    Manchester United: Gary Walsh, Tony Gill, Lee Martin, Ian Scott, Steve Gardner (capt), Paul Harvey, Aidan Murphy, Mark Todd, Dennis Cronin, Jon Bottomley, Karl Goddard.


    Manager Eric Harrison.


    Referee: Vic Callow


    Attendance: 18,158


    The response to this occasion was staggering¡ª18,158 people attended, which meant the total gate receipts would exceed ¡ê25,000. While the match never reached the classic standard of the first leg, it still offered plenty of "woaahs" and "aaaahs" for the enthusiastic audience.


    Moreover, based on this alone, you could see how desperate the City fans were. With the first-team squad relegated, all their hopes now rested on the shoulders of the young lads¡ªa beacon of optimism, a chance for redemption, and perhaps a glimpse of a brighter future for the club.


    "Nobody''s going to do it for you. You have to find your own solace, your own drive, your own ambition, your own inner strength, because the moment''s arriving for the greatest game of your f*ckin lives." Tony Book finally showed his menace.


    He didn''t care anymore.


    Maine Road. This is his victory!


    Glyn Pardoe and John Collins stood behind him, and further back were Richard Maddox, Jimmy Rouse¡ªthe dressing room caretaker¡ªeven Ken Barnes and Ted Davies, the scouts, were present. Almost everyone here on the team was a result of their talent-hunting efforts.


    "You think they''re better than you? You think they deserve it more than you?" he barked, pointing toward the door, as if their rivals stood just beyond it. "No! Not today. This is your house. This is your moment."


    The players sat motionless, eyes locked on him, their breathing heavy. The tension in the room crackled like electricity. They could see their manager''s fierce eyes, veins bulging on his neck as adrenaline coursed through him.


    "Nobody handed you anything. You earned this." *BANG!* Book slammed the locker. "Out there," he growled, "are 18,000 fans waiting to see who wants it more. They don''t care about mistakes, or what''s happened before. All they care about is this match. Your friends, your family, your fans... they''re all watching."


    He paused, letting his words sink in as he scanned the room.


    "Tell them¡ªthat you will not be forgotten. That no matter what happens, this is only the beginning. This trophy? It''s the first. But will it end here? NO! There are still more trophies waiting for you. Send them a message through this match!"


    His voice dropped, low and dangerous.


    "That they just faced the most dangerous f***** team they''ve ever seen. Now go. Write your story."


    A heavy silence hung in the air¡ªthen one clap. Then another. Suddenly, the entire room erupted, fists pounding lockers, voices shouting, the noise deafening.


    "LET''S GO!"


    "LET''S F*CKIN DESTROY THEM!*"


    "COME ON, BOYS! THIS IS OURS!"


    They charged out of the dressing room, fired up, ready to make history.


    Before the whistle blew, both teams were already lined up in their positions. Andy Thackeray and Aidan Murphy locked eyes across the pitch, exchanging a knowing look before both snorted. Despite their heated clash in the first leg, here they were again¡ªboth having managed to play in the second leg after successful appeals from their respective clubs.


    The officials and clubs understood the bigger picture. Youth competitions weren''t just about winning trophies; they were about development, growth, and second chances. The red cards from the first leg had been a blemish, but everyone involved knew that punishing young players too harshly could hinder their progress.


    PHWEEEEE!


    The sharp blast of the referee''s whistle cut through the roar of the crowd, signaling the start of the match. In an instant, the stadium erupted with cheers, drums, and chants, the tension melting into pure adrenaline on the pitch.


    As early as the 2nd minute, the Bonny Blues staked their claim to win the competition for the very first time in history. Paul Moulden, with his devastating routine of twists and turns, corkscrewed through United''s defense deep inside the penalty area on the right flank.


    His hither-and-thither jink opened up space, and his cross looped over the goalmouth, where David Boyd rose to meet it with a firm header. This time, there was no stopping it¡ªthe ball threatened Gary Walsh, who stretched to his limit, fingertips grazing the air, but it wasn''t enough.


    "GOAAALLL!!! A perfect setup from City¡ªMoulden with some dazzling footwork down the right, floating it right into the danger zone, and David Boyd rose like a rocket! A bullet header past Gary Walsh¡ªno chance for the keeper!"


    It was a thrilling send-off for City as the team officials roared and cheered, already celebrating as if they had secured the trophy. Only Richard remained calm. It was just the 2nd minute¡ªthey still had to survive another 88.


    Sure enough, as the whistle blew and the game resumed, the City officials shifted from elation to anxiety. It felt like sitting on pins and needles. Some perched at the very edge of their seats, while others couldn''t sit still, pacing back and forth, nerves fraying with every passing second.


    Paul Moulden continued to lead by example, just as he had throughout the competition. Operating from wide positions, he was the spark in City''s attack. Andy Thackeray, sent off in the first leg, was now seeking redemption.


    He provided a solid presence in midfield, showing composure and determination. But the real standout was the unexpected hero at the back¡ªIan Brightwell. The heart of City''s defense played with a fearless, cavalier spirit, commanding the backline and snuffing out United''s advances.


    The match became a relentless back-and-forth, with both United and City trading attacks, neither side willing to back down. The tension was palpable¡ªevery pass, every tackle, every shot carried the weight of the final.


    In the 6th minute, United launched an attack, but fortunately for City, Brightwell managed to clear a menacing cross from Goddard.


    By the 13th minute, United''s Ian Scott blocked a long-range shot from Moulden. The ball deflected and landed at Aidan Murphy''s feet, who then made a blistering run down the flank before sending a beautiful cross into the center. Unfortunately, Goddard just missed connecting with an outstretched leg, and City''s goalkeeper Crompton managed to get his arm on the ball before launching a long punt upfield.


    There were four serious moments when City nearly lost their lead:


    18th minute: A poor goal kick from Crompton put City in trouble, forcing Hinchcliffe to grapple desperately to stop Wilson from breaking through. City''s full-back was booked for spinning his opponent around.


    30th minute: United Dennis Cronin squandered a golden opportunity inside the penalty area after a clever chip from Goddard, slicing his shot wide of the post.


    37th minute: Steve Mills, City''s full-back, cleared the ball off the line after a deadly shot from Wilson following a Cronin corner.


    38th minute: Just a minute later, Mills once again performed heroics, heading the ball off the line to deny Wilson after a dangerous pass from Murphy.


    City eventually hit back in the 40th minute after enduring United''s constant pressure. It was summed up by a remarkable moment from City''s center-back Ian Brightwell, who made a rampaging 40-yard run that tore United''s defense apart. Brightwell capped it off with a blistering 25-yard strike, but the outstanding United goalkeeper, Gary Walsh, managed to tip it over the bar.


    "HOLY!" Richard muttered, eyes wide as he watched Walsh leap into action, tipping Brightwell''s blistering shot over the bar. It was a stunning save¡ªone that still kept United in the game. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Eric Harrison, United''s youth manager, who had already risen from his seat, clenched his fists, a mix of relief and awe washing over him. "That was close¡­ way too close," he muttered, glancing at the City staff, whose faces reflected pure disappointment.


    PHWEEET!


    The referee''s whistle echoed around the stadium, signaling the end of the first half. Players from both sides exhaled deeply, some bending over with hands on their knees, catching their breath before heading back to the dressing rooms. The crowd buzzed with anticipation¡ªthere was still another half to play, and everything was still up for grabs.


    In the second half, the first ten minutes saw United and City return to their initial cautious approach, both teams feeling each other out before United began to settle and grow more aggressive.


    City found their left winger, Goddard, a perplexing customer as he shrugged off United''s Lee Martin to control Moulden''s pass and fired a shot that slammed into the side netting. Moments later, Goddard''s powerful drive was stopped at the foot of the near post by Walsh.


    After the scare, City captain Redmond rallied his team, leading them into a period of dominance as the remaining minutes ticked away. Yet, United still managed a few threatening shots that forced Crompton onto his heels, though he remained solid¡ªproven by his record of conceding only six goals in nine ties.


    Fittingly, the match saw a classic finish in the 86th minute.


    Moulden, City''s ever-dangerous attacker, played a deadly ball through to White bursting through the middle. Moulden struck fiercely, but Gary Walsh defiant made another brilliant save. Yet, Moulden''s sharp instincts had him charging onto the loose ball, calmly steering it low into the net from six yards out.


    "GOOAAAALLL, PAUL MOULDEN!! Instincts sharper than ever! He followed up the rebound like a true predator, pouncing on the loose ball, leaving Gary Walsh with no chance this time!"


    The crowd erupted, the stadium a sea of blue and white flags waving wildly.


    For the first time, there was no way back for United, and everyone on the pitch knew it.


    In a nutshell, the probability had almost shown from the very beginning that City would likely win the match¡ªthey had the strength to complement their style. It wasn''t the vintage Young Blues of the 1950s, but it was good enough. It was worthy enough to win the trophy, especially after the dismal performances by City''s first team.


    In the director''s box, smiles were spreading wide across the faces of the City directors and board members. For once, after a season of struggles for the first team, there was a glimmer of hope¡ªa reason to believe in the club''s future.


    For the next few minutes, down on the touchline, Book, Pardoe, and Collins stood at the edge of the technical area, tense but ready. Their eyes were fixed on the referee, waiting for the final signal.


    PHWEEEEEET!


    For a split second, there was pure silence¡ªa moment of disbelief¡ªbefore an explosion of noise erupted.


    Cheers filled the air as the young City players threw their arms skyward, some collapsing to the ground in joy, while others sprinted wildly across the pitch.


    Tony Book, the manager pumped his fist and without hesitation broke into a run, joined by Glyn Pardoe his assistant and John Collins, the coach, all racing toward the celebrating players.


    On the sidelines, Richard let out a triumphant yell, throwing his arms around Jimmy Rouse, the dressing room caretaker, who had tears streaming down his face.


    Redmond, the captain, led his team to receive the trophy, cheered by City''s ecstatic fans. There were scenes to remember. However, amid all the happy, smiling faces, one figure could only watch from afar.


    Andy Thackeray.


    He had refused the honor of collecting a medal¡ªa punishment he imposed on himself after his dismissal in the first leg. Despite the FA allowing him to play in the second leg, the disciplinary rules still applied.


    It was a painful and sad sight. City staff consoled the young Thackeray, especially Richard.


    The punishment felt too severe to be imposed on any player who had battled his heart out for the cause. This scar would probably never leave the young Thackeray.


    Thankfully, the sad sight didn''t last long. Redmond soon pulled Thackeray forward and handed him the trophy. Thackeray looked at Redmond, who nodded in encouragement.


    As the players assembled for their lap of honor, Thackeray raised the trophy high in his hands, and the other players jumped and roared in excitement. Richard sighed in relief, though a hint of regret remained on his face.


    ''I could have lifted the trophy too,'' the thought flickered in his mind for a moment before he shook his head to dismiss it quickly.

 Chapter 22 - 22: Falling out

    Jimmy Frizzell''s role was re-titled as manager when the team was relegated to Division Two. Amid a serious financial crisis, Mel Machin was then appointed as the new team manager.


    This was different from what people expected. Many thought Tony Book would be promoted after leading the team to victory in the FA Youth Cup. However, the higher-ups still seemed skeptical about his ability to manage the first team, especially given what had happened to City in the early 1980s under his leadership.


    Under Mel Machin''s leadership, it didn''t take long for Steve Redmond, Ian Brightwell, Paul Moulden, and David White to be promoted to the first team¡ªa direct result of the squad overhaul planned by the new manager.


    With the club in desperate need of fresh talent and energy following relegation, these young players, who had just proven themselves by lifting the FA Youth Cup, were seen as the future of Manchester City.


    Off the pitch, the current chairman, Peter Swales, announced a club-record sponsorship deal with Brother worth over ¡ê500,000 for three years.


    Following that, City released Graham Baker, Nicky Reid, Tony Grealish, and Nigel Johnson before the summer break. Mick McCarthy was then sold to Celtic for ¡ê500,000, while Darren Beckford moved to Port Vale for ¡ê17,500.


    Their rebuild was real.


    BANG!


    Richard was furious¡ªabsolutely livid. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He could accept being pushed into the background, as his role was merely a meager part-time, volunteer position. He could even swallow the fact that he had to cover his own scouting expenses using his own pocket money.


    But what he couldn''t accept¡ªwhat burned inside him¡ªwas seeing a player he knew would become a superstar being overlooked, especially by this f**king bunch of no-name scouts!


    "Chief, couldn''t you do something? We have to bring him back!"


    Richard pleaded desperately with the chief scout, Barnes.


    Barnes let out a heavy sigh and said helplessly, "Richard, I know you have a knack for spotting talent, but you need to understand..." He paused, carefully weighing his words. "The decision came from higher up. It''s out of my hands."


    The success of the youth team brought a sense of optimism and pride, leading to a wave of regeneration in the senior squad.


    Several players from the youth side were promoted to the first team, seen as the future of the club. However, this also created gaps in the youth ranks that now needed filling.


    With spots open, the scouts were thrown into a competitive race, each eager to present the next big talent to the club. It became more than just finding players¡ªit was about proving whose eye for talent was sharper.


    As a volunteer scout, Richard had the right to recommend players he believed had potential. The problem, however, was that none of the players he suggested were ever signed!


    He even brought this up in a board meeting¡ªan agenda item that wasn''t supposed to be discussed there. He still remembered the scene when he stood up and said, "These players will become our future. Let''s sign them quickly."


    When the board saw the list of players he presented, they were bewildered.


    All of them were sixteen-year-old no-names. No, they weren''t from affiliated schools or famous local academies either. Now it was Richard''s turn to be speechless.


    Still, he wanted to fight for it. "Listen, gentlemen. This guy here¡ªthe one on this paper¡ªwill become the backbone of our club. Trust me," he said seriously.


    What did he see back then?


    Incredulous, uncertain, and questioning looks.


    "You''ll regret this, I''m sure," he finally said, his gaze sweeping across all the board members.


    Peter Swales, hearing the threat, finally spoke for the first time. It was an ultimatum.


    "Mr. Richard Maddox, I''ll say this once. If you can''t respect the structure of this club¡ªif you keep pushing your personal agenda¡ªyou''ll no longer have a place here. We make decisions together, not based on the whims of one man."


    The words hit Richard like a punch to the gut. Only then did he realize¡ªyes, in the scouting team, he was just a volunteer. In the youth staff, he was merely a part-timer. And in the boardroom, with only a single share, what could he really do? Why hadn''t he understood his position sooner?


    It was as if they were telling him, ''No matter how impressive it sounds, your role here is insignificant. Can''t you understand the reality?''


    At that time, the relationship between him and the board had completely fallen below zero. It wasn''t hostility¡ªjust strained to the point where Richard didn''t even bother attending board meetings anymore. Well, they didn''t care either.


    Back to the present¡ªthat''s why he sought the help of Chief Scout Barnes. However, he hadn''t expected Barnes to reject him as well, not approving a single player!


    Richard wasn''t angry¡ªjust sad. No wonder City couldn''t compete with the top clubs in the league later on, let alone rival Manchester United. They were too prideful, blinded by that ridiculous Youth Cup victory.


    Did they really think they could repeat that achievement? By building a new squad filled with talents like Redmond, Moulden, and Brightwell?


    "Hah, ridiculous," Richard mocked.


    Just by winning the FA Youth Cup, they''d already become stubborn, acting like they knew everything about football. They had forgotten that the trophy they''d won was only the FA Youth Cup¡ªnot even the real FA Cup. And even if it had been the FA Cup, so what?


    By the 2000s, it had become a minor trophy, nothing compared to the Premier League title. The meeting with chief Barnes and the board wrapped up quickly, yielding nothing.


    Richard had thought it was simply about recommending players, but he hadn''t expected something deeper to change. It was too late¡ªthe damage was done.


    "Are you sure they said that?" Richard asked the young woman sitting in front of him.


    Ashley Hall Meredith¡ªthe receptionist who had first welcomed him to Maine Road Stadium¡ªnodded.


    She had a good impression of him when they first met, drawn to his handsome appearance and polite demeanor. What started as simple "Good mornings" over coffee turned into light teasing until it gave way to longer conversations.


    It didn''t take long before casual lunches became evening dinners, and soon after, something more. Their relationship had grown over time¡ªthey''d gone on a few dates, eventually becoming a couple.


    "Hmmm, if what you said is true, maybe it''s better if you keep your distance from me," Richard muttered.


    Ashley''s face tightened with worry. "What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?"


    Richard sighed deeply. He didn''t want this, but it couldn''t be helped. If what she had just told him was true, then she was really in deep trouble.


    The power of words was strong¡ªstronger than she could imagine. As someone who had seen how things could unfold, he knew how hoaxes and rumors could ruin careers and drive people to despair.


    He didn''t want this young girl to go through that. ''Those bastards,'' Richard cursed under his breath.


    None of this would''ve happened if it weren''t for that bunch of idiot scouts. They realized their chance to shine was being overshadowed by an outsider¡ªsomeone who hadn''t even been at the club for a year¡ªso they started an internal campaign to push him out.


    Some mocked him, others pitied him. But the worst part?


    He could feel it¡ªthe staff slowly pulling away, treating him more and more like an outsider. At least he still had Ashley though.


    Without her, he wouldn''t even know what was happening behind closed doors. But now that he did, he knew he had to take drastic measures.


    "I¡ª"


    SPLASH!


    Before he could even finish his sentence, Ashley stood up and threw the entire glass of water right at his face.


    The whole restaurant went silent for a moment¡ªforks frozen mid-air, conversations cut short. A couple at the next table gasped, while an older man nearly choked on his soup.


    Richard, still dripping, blinked in disbelief. He could only helplessly watch as Ashley stood up and stormed out, leaving him alone in the restaurant.


    ''Is she crying?'' he thought anxiously, his chest tightening.


    Even though he''d seen things most people in this era couldn''t even imagine¡ªwars, revolutions, inventions that would boggle the mind¡ªwhen it came to relationships between men and women, he was a complete newbie.


    A total rookie. I mean, how could a ghost date, right?


    It''s not like he could''ve floated into a caf¨¦ back then and whispered, "Hey, darling, mind if I haunt your heart?"


    Being alive was hard. But dating?


    That was a whole new level of hell. And now, his very first real relationship was going down in flames¡ªwell, more like drowning, considering he was still soaked from the surprise splash attack.


    Still, there was some relief, though. He glanced at his Motorola DynaTAC 8000M¡ªbuilt like a tank but completely useless for capturing moments like this. No cameras, no smartphones, no viral videos. He was safe!


    The only witnesses were the stunned diners. Richard sighed, wiped his face with a napkin, and awkwardly nodded at his neighboring diner before paying for the food and leaving.


    Once outside the restaurant, he looked left and right but Ashley was already gone¡ªhe had lost her trail. Letting out a final sigh, he decided he would talk to her tomorrow.


    He usually heads straight to Islington on weekends to spend quality time with his family. However, today, instead of taking the train to Manchester Piccadilly, he goes directly to Brantingham Road, where he has been renting a flat for the past few months while working at City.


    As the door swings open with a soft creak, Richard steps inside.


    "I''m back!" he calls out, his voice carrying through the quiet house, signaling his return to whoever is home.


    THUD THUD THUD


    The sound of hurried footsteps echoes through the hallway. Suddenly, a young boy bursts into view¡ªaround 16 or 17 years old.


    His light brown hair is slightly tousled, and his athletic frame hints at the footballer he''s destined to become.


    Alan Shearer.


    Young Shearer only wears a simple T-shirt and shorts. Upon seeing Richard, his eyes light up, and he strides toward him eagerly.


    "Richard, how is it?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation.


    Making contact with a young talent like Shearer at this early stage was both easy and difficult. On one hand, it was easier because there was growing recognition of the importance of youth development.


    Clubs like City were beginning to build more structured scouting networks to track and nurture young players. For example, City''s scouting network had information on approximately 50,000 players across the country, allowing them to monitor numerous prospects.


    On the other hand, the process was much slower than in modern times, where digital databases provide instant access to player profiles.


    Now, everything was done manually¡ªhandwritten records, detailed notes, and the occasional video clip for the most promising talents. Scouts had to gather as much information as possible, compiling thorough reports before making any recommendations.


    In Shearer''s case, his name appeared in the records thanks to Jack Hixon, a scout at Southampton.


    When Richard questioned why a Southampton player''s details were in Manchester City''s system, Ted Davies, his colleague, explained that Shearer had been closely tracked by a scout who was competing to sign him.


    Scouting was a community-driven process, heavily reliant on personal connections and word-of-mouth. Traditional methods like phone calls and informal recommendations played a crucial role.


    Sometimes, scouts would exchange player data when one club already had a player in a particular position and needed reinforcement elsewhere. Other times, if a player''s style suited another team better, a scout might tip off a contact at a different club.


    There were also instances where scouts closely followed their rivals, knowing they had an eye for talent. They would track their movements, observe the players they were watching, and often end up competing for the same prospects.


    The race for young talent was never straightforward¡ªit was a battle of information, instincts, and persistence.

 Chapter 23 - 23: Rewriting the Narrative

    Richard let out a deep sigh, tilting his head back in defeat, resignation etched across his face. Watching his expression, Shearer sank into despair.


    Alan Shearer was born in the Gosforth area of Newcastle upon Tyne to working-class parents. Encouraged by his father, he began playing football from a young age and continued to develop his skills throughout school.


    He attended Gosforth Central Middle School and Gosforth High School, spending much of his childhood playing football on the streets of his hometown.


    Shearer eventually captained his school team and helped a Newcastle City Schools team win a seven-a-side tournament at St James'' Park before joining the amateur Wallsend Boys Club as a teenager.


    It was while playing for Wallsend that he caught the eye of Southampton scout Jack Hixon. Later, City''s scout Peter Pettigrew also developed an interest in him.


    What followed was a quiet tug-of-war between the two scouts for Shearer''s signature, though the battle was never particularly intense.


    "Rather than being about the player, it seemed more like a personal conflict," David hinted.


    And that''s what shocked Richard the most.


    Alan Shearer was the epitome of a classic English center forward¡ªdominant in the air, physically strong, and with a keen eye for goal. He wasn''t flashy or elegant on the pitch, but his robust physique and instinctive finishing made him one of the most lethal strikers of his era.


    Southampton scout Jack Hixon was definitely interested in him, having been the one to discover Shearer. Unfortunately, his movements were noticed by his nemesis, Peter Pettigrew.


    Soon, both of them found themselves in an unspoken confrontation over Shearer''s signature. Every promise Hixon made, Pettigrew countered with something even better for Shearer.


    Southampton actually had the upper hand, playing in the First Division, unlike City, who had been relegated. But Pettigrew was cunning.


    He argued that at Southampton, Shearer wouldn''t get enough playing time¡ªspeaking from his experience as an experienced scout. The young Shearer felt intimidated by this.


    He hesitated. His father and mother also hesitated to make a decision. And this was exactly when Richard entered the fray. He absolutely couldn''t allow Shearer to end up on Pettigrew''s scouting list¡ªno way!


    The fact that Pettigrew had the audacity to slap a glaring "C" rating on Alan Shearer¡­


    Was absolutely insane!


    Where is the issue?


    So, he thoroughly read Pettigrew''s scouting reports and soon understood the problem¡ªand why Pettigrew slapped Shearer with a bold "C".


    Alan Shearer


    Date of Birth: August 13, 1970,


    Nationality: English


    Preferred Foot: Right


    Height: 6''0" (183 cm)


    Position: Midfielder


    Midfielder...? Midfielder...?!!


    So, in the report, his weaknesses are very clear.


    Passing: ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡î¡î


    Adequate short passing but tends to focus on direct play. Not a playmaker but can hold up the ball well for teammates.


    Pace: ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡î¡î


    Decent acceleration but lacks top-end speed.


    Overall Rating: C


    1. Lacks flair and creativity


    2. Limited pace, which may hinder effectiveness against high defensive lines.


    3. Minimal defensive contribution.


    Ridiculous!


    After reviewing the report, Richard didn''t waste any time and quickly contacted Southampton''s scout, Jack Hixon, leaving the older man dumbfounded.


    "Why are you looking for me? Are you also trying to persuade me to give up on Shearer?" Hixon scoffed, bewildered, before snorting at the young man standing in front of him.


    Richard didn''t mind the contempt. He asked seriously, "Sir, from the bottom of your heart, do you truly want Shearer to play football and succeed or not?"


    "Of course I do! Are you kidding me?" Hixon snapped, growing angry. ''Does he doubt my credibility as a scout? How dare he?!''


    He was a scout to the core, and seeing a gem like Shearer¡ªwith his robust physique that allowed him to outmuscle defenders and hold up play effectively¡ªhe knew the boy could thrive in English football.


    "Then, sir, you need to let me contact him and his family! I can''t let Pettigrew get to him first. He''s planning to make an all-in offer. Did you know he slapped a C rating on Shearer''s report? If Shearer goes under his guidance, it could ruin his development and hold back his progress!"


    Hixon''s expression turned serious, but suspicion lingered in his eyes. "Aren''t you from the same club as that mouse? Why are you telling me this?"


    Richard didn''t hesitate. "Sir, you and I are the same. We both can''t stand Pettigrew. I hate his nose¡ªI don''t trust him, and I certainly don''t like that mouse."


    Hixon was speechless for a moment. Everyone knew Pettigrew and his reputation. That mouse¡ªhis talent-spotting skills were among the worst. But what he lacked in ability, he more than made up for with his uncanny, rodent-like instinct for sniffing out opportunities.


    Almost every player under his name wasn''t discovered by him but rather "borrowed" through his well-timed, nosey little interventions. This was exactly why he hated him, but it was the first time someone had openly said it to his face!


    In the end, Richard made Hixon an offer he couldn''t refuse.


    "I''ll let Shearer have a trial at Southampton. I promise!"


    Hixon was eventually persuaded, and along with Shearer and his family, he agreed to come. Under Hixon''s watchful eye, Richard assured Shearer and his family that he would cover their meals, housing, and other necessities. Once Shearer succeeded, he could pay it all back.


    And the final guarantee?


    Richard took out ¡ê1,000 in cash right then and there to convince the family!


    Back to the Present.


    Shearer was dejected. When he came with Richard, he had been promised a place as a City player. But what he didn''t expect was that Richard had failed to get him into City''s youth academy.


    "Don''t worry, there''s a trial next week. I''ve already signed you up, so no need to stress," Richard reassured him. But deep down, guilt gnawed at him¡ªhe hadn''t expected to break his promise.


    Shearer''s expression softened slightly. He nodded, feeling a bit better, and was about to head back to his room when Richard stopped him.


    "Come with me," He said without offering any explanation.


    Shearer assumed Richard was taking him out for a meal¡ªto make up for failing to secure the apprenticeship contract.


    Touched and a little excited, he licked his lips and followed. But soon, he realized they weren''t heading toward a restaurant. Instead, they stopped in front of a local video rental store.


    In an era when entertainment was limited, people often relied on VHS tapes to relive their favorite moments or watch shows they had missed. Richard didn''t even own a VCR, but that wasn''t the point.


    He had brought Shearer here for something different¡ªto watch tapes together and teach him how to become a great striker. They spent hours analyzing the movements of legendary forwards like Ian Rush, Marco van Basten, and Careca¡ªplayers who shared a similar physical build to him.


    Richard wanted Shearer to grasp what it truly took to be one of the best¡ªto shape his mindset before the youth academy had the chance to mold him. So they watched match footage relentlessly, studying every detail¡ªpositioning, movement, shot selection, and ball trajectory¡ªbreaking down the art of goal-scoring piece by piece. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Days turned into weeks, and finally, the big day arrived¡ªthe trial at Manchester City.


    The Trial.


    "Are you sure about this?" Shearer asked nervously, shifting from foot to foot.


    "Yes, trust me," Richard replied confidently.


    He had already given young Shearer strict instructions: "No matter what happens today, you''re a striker. If anyone asks why you switched positions, just say you realized your true calling. If you can''t beat them with pace, then bulldoze right through them."


    If you can''t negotiate with speed, let strength do the talking.


    When they arrived at Maine Road, Richard and Shearer felt hopeful¡ªuntil they spotted their nemesis, Peter Pettigrew, lurking nearby. He wasn''t alone; he had brought along another player, his supposed "hidden gem."


    The moment Pettigrew noticed Richard and Shearer together, his eyes widened in shock¡ªthen a sly smirk spread across his face.


    Without a word, he spun around, his coat flaring dramatically¡ªlike a villain in a soap opera who had just uncovered a secret plot.


    Barnes, the chief scout, gathered the youth players in front of him. "Strikers, hands up!" he called.


    A few kids raised their hands, including Shearer.


    Watching from the sidelines, Richard felt a wave of satisfaction seeing Shearer''s confidence. ''


    ''Good lad. Stick to the plan.''


    But just as he allowed himself a moment of pride, a familiar sneering voice interrupted.


    "Oh, so changing positions now, huh? You really think that''s gonna work?"


    Pettigrew had slithered over, arms crossed, his trademark smug grin plastered across his face.


    Richard didn''t even turn to look at him. "Well, I actually believe in Alan."


    Pettigrew chuckled, shaking his head. "Believe? Or are you just making things up as you go? That kid''s built like a brick wall¡ªyou think he''s gonna magically turn into Van Basten overnight?"


    Richard finally faced him. "Tell me, Peter, how''s that last ''wonderkid'' you scouted? What was his name again? Oh right¡­ Nobody''s Heard of Him Since."


    Pettigrew''s face turned red, but before he could retort, Richard beat him to it. "Ah, the weather is so nice," he said, looking up at the sky, which was as gloomy as his morning coffee.


    Pettigrew huffed in annoyance and stormed off.


    Barnes blew the whistle, and the trial began.


    The player Pettigrew had brought¡ªJordan Beckford¡ªjogged onto the field with confidence. Richard squinted, trying to place the name. Nothing. He had never heard of him.


    "Jordan Beckford," Pettigrew muttered proudly, as if the name carried legendary weight.


    Richard raised an eyebrow. "Who? Sounds like a name you picked out of a hat."


    Pettigrew scoffed but said nothing.


    Meanwhile, Shearer waited on the sidelines, nervous yet determined.


    Finally, in the 76th minute, Barnes called him over.


    But things weren''t easy.


    Every time Shearer made a run, he got muscled off the ball. When a cross came his way, he mistimed his jump. Another shot went embarrassingly wide.


    Richard stayed silent, arms crossed, letting Shearer figure it out.


    Pettigrew, of course, was less restrained. "Oh, brilliant plan, Richard! He''s really dominating out there," he sneered. "Tell me, is flailing around part of the strategy?"


    "He just needs time," Richard muttered.


    Pettigrew chuckled smugly. "Sure. Maybe in the next decade he''ll figure out how to control the ball."


    Richard ignored him, keeping his eyes on Shearer. The kid was struggling, but he wasn''t giving up.


    Post-Trial.


    The final whistle blew. Shearer trudged off the pitch, his boots feeling heavier with each step.


    Sweat dripped down his face¡ªnot from exhaustion, but from disappointment. He couldn''t even bring himself to look at Richard. His chest tightened. His stomach churned.


    ''It''s over,'' he thought. ''I blew it.''


    Then, unexpectedly, a firm hand landed on his shoulder.


    "Good job," Richard said, his voice calm and steady.


    Shearer''s eyes widened. ''Good job?''


    He finally looked up, searching Richard''s face for sarcasm¡ªbut there was none. Richard''s expression was genuine, his lips curled into a faint smile.


    "But¡­ I was terrible," Shearer muttered. "I couldn''t even control the ball properly."


    Richard snorted. "Of course you were terrible. You''re a midfielder who just played as a striker for the first time. What did you expect? A hat trick?"


    Shearer''s face flushed in embarrassment.


    Richard leaned in slightly, his voice softer now. "You tried. You kept going, even when it wasn''t working. That''s what matters. It''s not about being perfect¡ªit''s about starting."


    Shearer let out a shaky breath, the weight on his shoulders lifting slightly.


    Richard smiled. "So, what do you think about being a striker? You wanted to be a midfielder to control the game, right? But think about it¡ªimagine being the striker who scores the winning goal. Isn''t it ironic? You wanted control, but in the end, it''s the striker who decides everything."


    Shearer hesitated¡­ then a reluctant smile tugged at his lips.


    Maybe¡­ just maybe, it wasn''t over yet.

 Chapter 24 - 24: Another Trial

    The chapter with Manchester City had come to a close.


    In the end, Shearer did receive an offer from the club¡ªbut not as a striker. Instead, they wanted him as a midfielder. From all the discussions between Chief Scout Barnes and Shearer, Richard could only gather one thing:


    ''The club valued Shearer''s towering presence but wasn''t willing to adjust their criteria to let him join as a striker.''


    Shearer couldn''t help but glance at Richard for guidance, a small but noticeable gesture that didn''t go unnoticed by Barnes.


    "Is he your family?" Barnes asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Eh? No, he''s not," Richard replied, caught off guard.


    "Huh¡­ a friend? A distant relative? Or maybe someone your parents know?"


    Now it was Richard''s turn to be confused. ''Why is this old man asking so many questions?''


    Barnes waved a hand dismissively. "It''s just odd. He keeps looking to you. You''re acting more like his agent than a coach or scout. Have you even realized that?"


    Richard was caught off guard, momentarily lost for words. ''He''s got a point though,'' he thought. ''Why am I negotiating on this kid''s behalf? Isn''t that the agent''s job?''


    Shaking his head, Richard brushed off the troubling thoughts and firmly declined the offer, leaving Chief Barnes staring at him as if he''d completely lost his mind.


    "Is this about what happened before?" Barnes asked, unable to hide his anger.


    He couldn''t help it. Not long ago, he had come to him, practically begging him to sign Alan, but he had turned him down, blaming the decision on the higher-ups. Still, he''d given it more thought since then.


    After all, signing didn''t mean he''d play right away, right?


    If Shearer underperformed, he could easily claim the boy hadn''t lived up to expectations. But if the kid turned out to be a star, he could also take the credit for spotting his potential. Either way, he''d protect his standing with both the board and Richard¡ªa win-win situation. But now?


    Watching Richard reject the offer, Barnes felt a wave of disappointment and irritation. ''Is this payback? Is he really that petty?''


    If Richard could hear what was running through the chief''s head, he''d probably laugh and say, "Playing both sides? Seriously? Hah, I don''t have time for that."


    His own thoughts were a mess right now.


    Standing outside Maine Road Stadium, he was deep in thought while Shearer fidgeted anxiously beside him. He hadn''t expected Richard to decline the offer¡ªespecially not like that.


    "What are we going to do now?" Shearer finally asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice.


    The question snapped Richard out of his thoughts. "Ah? Uh... we''re heading to Newcastle."


    Shearer''s eyes widened. "Newcastle?" His hometown. The idea made his anxiety spike.


    Was Richard giving up on him already?


    Richard noticed the worry on his face and chuckled. "Don''t overthink it," he said, watching Shearer stew like a pot about to boil over. "What you need right now is to get comfortable in your new role. We''ll go from trial to trial, and Newcastle United is the perfect place to start."


    "Oh..." Shearer muttered, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit.


    Newcastle United is based in Newcastle upon Tyne, with their first team using Maiden Castle in Durham as their training ground.


    As for the youth team, trials were usually held at local training facilities or academy grounds, away from the public eye, so coaches could focus on evaluating talent without distractions.


    When Richard and young Shearer arrived, the grounds were already buzzing with players, families, and even some guardians from local clubs¡ªsimilar to the scene at the Manchester City trial.


    As the routine began, players were asked to raise their hands for their preferred positions. Without hesitation, Shearer raised his hand for striker.


    This time, his towering frame, solid build, and status as a local lad worked in his favor. The coaches placed him straight into the starting lineup, planning for him to play the entire first half. Before the match, Richard pulled Shearer aside.


    "Alright, Alan, listen up," he said, his tone serious. "I know you want to score goals, but today, I need you to play smart."


    Shearer frowned. "What do you mean?"


    "Remember how you kept making random runs during the City trial? That won''t work today. We''re going to do things differently. Before you can fully shake off your old habits, you need to balance them. Here''s how¡­"


    At sixteen, Shearer was already known in the local school leagues for his strong, fearless physique. He dominated matches with his physicality, often outmuscling older players and shrugging off defenders with ease.


    Coaches admired his strength and ability to hold up the ball, but Richard wanted more than that. He needed Shearer to be aggressive¡ªnot just in physicality but in intent.


    "Drop deep when needed, link up the play, and create chances for others. Don''t just be the guy who scores¡ªbe the one who makes things happen."


    Shearer nodded, though a flicker of doubt remained in his eyes.


    "When you see space, run into it. Pull one or two defenders toward you. And when they close in, don''t hesitate," Richard said firmly, patting Shearer''s forearm, especially his elbow.


    Shearer looked puzzled.


    "Do you want to know how to make your opponents fear you? How to intimidate anyone who dares to go up against you?" Richard asked, rubbing his sharp elbow bone.


    Shearer understood instantly, though he hesitated¡ªwasn''t this taking it too far?


    "Who decides that?" Richard pressed. "For those 90 minutes on the pitch, the only person making the calls is the referee¡ªnot you, not me. Don''t be afraid to get physical. Your body is your greatest weapon. If you can overpower your opponent, do it. As long as the ref doesn''t blow the whistle, you''re in the clear."


    Be brute.


    That was the plan. Since Shearer hadn''t fully shaken off his old habits, Richard wanted him to focus on playing a more creative role¡ªlinking up with teammates, making smart runs into space, and setting up chances. His ability to outmuscle defenders and hold onto the ball was a strength Richard wanted him to exploit.


    Once he refined his game, Richard would shift him into a true target man¡ªsomeone who could dominate the air, shield the ball under pressure, and unleash powerful shots to control the game.


    Just like the Alan Shearer he knew from the future.


    But for now, he needed intensity. Aggression. Shearer had to become the beast on the pitch¡ªmake them fear you!


    The ambiance and distinct traits of old English football thrived on grit, determination, and raw physicality. Serie A might have been known for its tactical discipline and fierce defensive clashes, but England''s game demanded just as much physical confrontation.


    Tactical finesse had yet to reach the heights of the modern Premier League¡ªhere, strength and toughness ruled.


    The trial kicked off with a sharp whistle, and Shearer found himself immediately thrust into the thick of it.


    The game was fast, rough, and unforgiving¡ªat least for him.


    Remembering Richard''s words, he gritted his teeth and didn''t hesitate to go shoulder-to-shoulder, shoving and pushing, testing every player''s limits. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard watched from the stands, arms crossed, his gaze narrowing every time Shearer hesitated or fell back into his old, soft approach. Hard, but not enough.


    Then came a moment.


    Shearer braced himself, using his body to shield the ball. He dug his elbow into the space between him and the defender¡ªnot enough for a foul, but just enough to throw him off balance. He pivoted, spotted a winger making a run, and sent a crisp pass into his path.


    "Good! That''s it!" Richard shouted passionately.


    Moments later, Shearer found space again. This time, instead of passing, he surged forward, carrying the ball into the final third. A defender stepped in, trying to shoulder him off, but Shearer lowered his stance, absorbed the contact, spun away, and fired a low cross into the box.


    It didn''t lead to a goal, but Richard smiled. Shearer smiled.


    They were getting somewhere.


    He was seeing exactly what he wanted¡ªintelligence mixed with raw aggression.


    The match wore on, and Shearer adapted. He dragged defenders wide, creating gaps for teammates, then drifted into the box when the moment was right.


    A high ball came sailing in. Shearer positioned himself, using his frame to hold off two defenders. As the ball dropped, he leapt, leading with his elbow just enough to clear space, and powered a header toward goal. The goalkeeper tipped it over the bar, but Richard clapped, satisfied.


    By halftime, Shearer jogged off the pitch, sweat dripping, chest heaving. Richard met him from the stands.


    "That''s how you do it," he said. "You''re not here to blend in¡ªyou''re here to make them remember you."


    Shearer only grinned.


    He thought Richard would finally accept the offer this time, but once again, Richard declined, leaving him confused.


    Richard didn''t offer an explanation. How could he possibly tell Shearer that Newcastle would be crushed this season and relegated to the Second Division?


    For the next month, Richard and Shearer traveled to West Bromwich for a trial at West Bromwich Albion¡ªthe only club holding open trials in the near future.


    From the opening whistle, Shearer threw himself into the match with fierce determination. He battled defenders, shielded the ball, and made clever runs into open spaces. His movement was sharper, his decisions quicker, his confidence growing with every touch.


    Then came the breakthrough.


    A midfielder spotted Shearer making a diagonal run and sent a perfect through ball.


    Shearer muscled past a defender, controlled the ball off his chest, took a quick touch, and fired a low, powerful shot into the bottom corner of the net.


    The ball smashed into the net.


    Richard shot up from the stands, pumping his fist. Shearer had finally broken through¡ªhis first goal since transitioning from midfielder to striker.


    And he wasn''t done.


    Freed from hesitation, Shearer played with even more intensity¡ªlinking up play, making dangerous runs, and bullying defenders with his raw strength. By the end of the match, he had caught the coaches'' attention.


    But once again, Richard refused the offer.


    After wrapping up the trial, Richard and Shearer made their way to the railway station.


    The air was cool, and the soft rumble of trains echoed through the platform. They sat on a bench, waiting for their train southbound to Southampton¡ªthe next and final destination on this long journey.


    "Hmm, there are two weeks before the Southampton trial. Do you think you can squeeze in another one before then?" Richard asked suddenly.


    "Is there one? Where?" Shearer asked.


    "Oxford United. They''re holding a trial match in five days."


    Shearer quickly did the math. "If it''s on the way, maybe we can do it."


    "You think you can handle it?" Richard raised an eyebrow.


    "Well, the trial will probably just be one half anyway," Shearer replied with a shrug.


    The journey wasn''t over yet.

 Chapter 25 - 25: Unforeseen opening

    Almost a year had passed, and so much had changed, turning everything upside down.


    The Today newspaper abruptly ended its sponsorship of the Football League after just one year, pulling out less than two weeks before the new season was set to begin.


    Not long after, Barclays Bank stepped in, securing a three-year sponsorship deal worth around ¡ê5 million.


    "This is just the beginning," Richard muttered, crumpling the newspaper in his hands before flipping to the next page.


    But beyond the shifting landscape of football, something major had happened in his personal life.


    Ever since the incident at the restaurant¡ªwhere his girlfriend, or rather, ex-girlfriend now (?)¡ªstormed off, things had taken an unexpected turn.


    The next day, Richard learned that Ashley had handed in her resignation letter, which left him dumbfounded.


    Had their relationship really reached the point where she needed to quit her job? It wasn''t like they had broken up in some dramatic, drawn-out fight.


    So what had happened after that? Where was she now? And what about her family?


    Thinking about her family only deepened his regret. The truth was, they had never talked much about personal matters.


    Their relationship had mostly revolved around dates, outings, and spending time together. He tried calling her number, but it was no longer active.


    It was strange¡ªtechnically, they had never even discussed breaking up. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard sighed, resigned to the situation.


    On the financial side of things, however, Richard''s fortunes were on the rise.


    The properties he had invested in throughout Islington were finally starting to pay off. The Georgian terraces he had snapped up earlier were now being repurchased¡ªsome by the council, others by private buyers.


    Richard couldn''t help but admire them. When it came to spotting opportunities, politicians, entrepreneurs, and tycoons were like hawks with GPS¡ªalways swooping in at just the right moment, their next move impossible to predict.


    They moved so fast that he figured they could probably seal a deal before the ink even dried on the announcement. By the time the dust settled, ordinary folks who had been completely unaware finally caught on¡ªgentrification was in full swing.


    First, rumors spread about government plans for the area, including the completion of the Victoria Line and the redevelopment of Angel Tube Station. Then came the official order to refurbish the upper floors of mostly vacant buildings, once used only for storage.


    The goal? To clear the space and build a shopping mall.


    But that wasn''t all. The government granted major property owners unprecedented freedom, offering near-free licenses to encourage stallholders to set up pitches and allowing restaurants to operate on the ground floor.


    Economic analysts in newspapers had already weighed in, predicting that Islington would become a pioneer of street food culture. They claimed its rapid development would also lead to the refurbishment of Spa Fields Park, making the area an increasingly attractive destination.


    No wonder the Richard''s Georgian terraces sold like hotcakes.


    And when the Big Bang hit, bringing a surge of foreign banks into the Square Mile, bankers were already setting their sights on Islington''s elegant terraces and squares just up the road. One policy after another fueled the real estate frenzy, and soon, nearly all of his properties were gone.


    He was more than pleased with the outcome¡ªthere was no reason for him to hold onto the properties himself. The only piece of land he still owned was a large plot near St. Mary''s Parish Church, while the rest had earned him a total of ¡ê2,500,000.


    A clean ¡ê900,000 in pure profit!


    ''No wonder...'' Richard mused, glancing at the numbers in his account. No wonder people love playing the real estate game.


    Then, in terms of his professional and career side¡ªother than successfully getting Alan Shearer into Southampton¡ªthere was something Richard hadn''t expected.


    While accompanying Shearer for a trial at Oxford United before his move to Southampton, Richard stumbled upon another future superstar.


    Matt Le Tissier.


    Yes, Le Tissier had a trial at Oxford United¡ªbut nothing came of it. Frustrated, the young player kicked a bottle in anger, sending it flying¡ªstraight into Richard''s head.


    That made him furious. His head was still a sensitive subject¡ªwho knew if there would be complications later?


    He spun around, ready to confront whoever was responsible. But instead of some reckless troublemaker, he found himself face-to-face with a 6-foot-1 teenager with casually styled, medium-length brown hair and boyish features.


    The kid immediately apologized.


    And the moment Richard heard his name, his decision was made¡ªthere was no way he was letting this opportunity slip by. So, he brought Le Tissier along with Shearer, and together, they both got their shot at Southampton.


    Aside from that, Richard still had another responsibility¡ªhis role as a coach and scout at Manchester City. One of the perks of being an outcast was that he could do whatever he wanted, as long as it didn''t cost the club anything. And Richard didn''t care.


    Since he was allowed to travel, he took full advantage of it¡ªaccompanying Shearer and Le Tissier from trial to trial while also scouting for new talent. Of course, even though he was dissatisfied with City, professionalism came first.


    He still made recommendations, and out of all the names he submitted, only four were accepted:


    Chris Armstrong (16, striker)


    Rob Jones (16, right-back)


    Graeme Le Saux (19, left-back)


    And the real gem¡ª15-year-old Steve McManaman.


    When Richard first brought McManaman in, Chief Barnes wasn''t impressed. In fact, he was annoyed that he had recommended someone who wasn''t even eligible for a contract yet.


    Even Pettigrew couldn''t resist mocking him.


    "What''s next? Signing toddlers from the playground?"


    But the moment McManaman stepped onto the pitch, the room fell silent.


    Whether dribbling past defenders or sprinting down the field, his raw talent was undeniable. Sure, he was still young and physically underdeveloped, but his footwork and blistering speed were leagues ahead of his peers. He practically toyed with defenders on the left flank.


    Bringing him in wasn''t easy.


    The biggest competitor was Everton, which had already offered McManaman a two-year contract, while Liverpool had proposed a two-year apprenticeship. Richard knew his chances were slim, but with deep pockets, there was always a way.


    McManaman was still too young¡ªnot yet the legend he would one day become. So Richard made an irresistible offer: a trial at City.


    If he impressed and agreed to sign, Richard would personally cover all of his and his family''s expenses¡ªhousing, transportation, training costs, everything. And if the trial didn''t work out, no pressure.


    Richard also pointed out that with City''s recent relegation, there were more opportunities for McManaman compared to Everton and Liverpool, who were both competing in the First Division.


    It was a strategy that had worked before.


    Chris Armstrong? Scouted from Wrexham in the Fourth Division.


    Rob Jones? Persuaded to leave Crewe Alexandra, also in the Fourth Division, for a better shot at City.


    Graeme Le Saux? The only real competition was Chelsea, but this was the pre-Abramovich era¡ªconvincing Le Saux to join City wasn''t that difficult.


    Richard was satisfied with his work. The results wouldn''t be immediate, but in four or five years, he was certain his name would be well-known.


    After finishing his work at Maine Road, Richard returned to his rented house with a box of takeaway food.


    Compared to the brightly lit homes of his neighbors, his house in Brantingham felt as gloomy as an abandoned castle¡ªespecially now that Shearer had left for Southampton.


    It was only 7 PM, yet the house remained dimly lit, borrowing a faint glow from the streetlamps outside. The wet pavement reflected the streetlights and the headlights of passing cars.


    It was raining. ''Oh, Manchester.''


    The television, perched on a tall rack, was broadcasting the day''s sports news. Naturally, English football dominated the coverage.


    But then, one piece of news caught his attention¡ªthe collapse of the Watford takeover.


    He had read about it in the newspapers¡ªWatford F.C. was up for sale.


    When club owner Elton John announced his intention to sell, Richard had already started exploring ways to get involved. But barely a week after the news broke, another report followed¡ªWatford was set to be sold to Robert Maxwell''s British Printing and Communication Corporation for ¡ê2 million.


    Too late.


    Richard could only watch the news in frustration. Now, the headlines declared that the takeover had fallen through.


    The High Court had blocked the sale, citing Maxwell''s existing ownership of Derby County. Only then did herealize¡ªone person couldn''t control more than one football club.


    That meant his single share in City prevented him from buying Watford.


    Unless¡­ he was willing to give it up.


    Was he willing?


    Of course!


    With ¡ê2,500,000 in his account, he was ready to make a name for himself in English football.


    That was what he thought¡ªuntil things started happening one after another, quickly and all at once.


    Friday, October 16, 1987.


    A super violent extratropical cyclone tore through Britain and several other European countries, leaving a trail of devastation.


    The storm severely damaged the British National Grid, plunging thousands into darkness and forcing markets to close in what would later be called the Great Storm.


    BEEP-CLICK!


    The dull tone of an old mobile phone echoed through the line.


    "Hello, Mom? Are you okay? Where are you? What about Dad and Harry?" Richard''s voice was tight with urgency.


    His mother, equally anxious, answered quickly. "There''s already been an announcement¡ªyour dad and Harry didn''t go to work today. What about you? Are you safe?"


    Richard exhaled in relief, but his nerves remained on edge. He glanced outside¡ªfallen trees blocked the roads, power lines dangled dangerously overhead.


    "Yeah¡­ I''m fine, but it''s chaos out here. Everything''s shut down. The whole city looks like a war zone."


    His mother''s voice softened, though tension still lingered.


    "Stay inside, Richard. Don''t go anywhere unless you have to. We still don''t know how bad this will get¡ª"


    CLICK.


    The line went dead.


    "Hello? Mom? Hello?" Richard called out, his voice rising. He tried again.


    Nothing. Just silence.


    His stomach sank. No signal.


    He could only hope his family was safe.


    For two long days, Britain held its breath, waiting for the nightmare to end. And finally, it did. The storm passed, leaving behind a devastated landscape. But just as the country began to recover, another disaster struck.


    On Monday, October 19, 1987, a sudden and severe stock market crash sent shockwaves across the globe.


    All 23 major world markets saw a sharp decline¡ªfirst in Asia, then Europe, and finally, the United States. Britain, still reeling from the storm, was among the hardest hit.


    Richard had believed that with his current wealth, nothing could go too wrong for him or his family¡ªat least not during the ongoing crisis.


    Unexpectedly, his mother called, telling him there was another letter sent from Manchester City.


    When he returned home and saw the invitation letter, he frowned.


    As far as he remembered, the EGM had already been held that year. Holding two EGMs in such a short time could only mean something significant had happened at the club.


    Although he wasn''t eager to deal with the people there, he knew he had to attend when it came to club matters. It wasn''t until the meeting that he realized just how fortunate he was.


    An opportunity to advance his own interests had just presented itself.


    The reason?


    City''s higher-ups were in desperate need of cash!

 Chapter 26 - 26: Lucky break in ownership

    The Great Storm and Black Monday left deep scars across various sectors of society. The economic fallout from these crises triggered widespread job insecurity, with many businesses forced to cut staff, halt hiring, or even scale back operations due to the financial downturn.


    The most affected groups were clear: first, homeowners and property owners; second, investors facing severe portfolio losses; third, business owners, as the storm disrupted operations and the crash made financing and credit harder to obtain; and fourth, the working class, farmers, rural communities, and pensioners, whose livelihoods were threatened by the economic instability.


    Thankfully, local governments and emergency services were deployed to clear debris, rescue people, and restore public safety.


    Social safety nets also provided basic support, though it came primarily through general welfare programs, rather than substantial direct financial relief.


    Meanwhile, Manchester City''s value plummeted to ¡ê8 million from ¡ê10 million after being relegated.


    In the current era, football stands as the second-largest entertainment industry in the United Kingdom.


    While that sounds impressive, the key challenge lies in the fact that, despite its size, the football industry remains fragmented and, like any other entertainment sector, is under significant financial strain.


    This fragmentation results in a divided industry, lacking unity and cohesion. Various groups, organizations, and stakeholders operate independently, leading to disparities between leagues, clubs, management practices, and regional variations within the sport.


    For football to thrive, it must be managed efficiently and profitably, both at the club level and nationally. To achieve this, the industry must unite, with a clear direction and a strong central influence.


    Recent inconsistent decisions highlight the challenges faced by the football industry. A key example of this inconsistency is the use of generators and floodlights.


    During the 1973 energy crisis, the government imposed electricity restrictions, including a ban on floodlighting for outdoor events. This disrupted football matches, leading to rescheduled games and reduced attendance. The FA raised concerns that football was being unfairly targeted.


    Then, in the mid-1970s, the Safety of Sports Grounds Act 1975 was introduced, requiring clubs to install floodlights that met specific safety standards.


    While the aim was to improve safety, the act placed a significant financial burden on clubs, leading to debates about the need for government support.


    These two decisions essentially created a heavy burden for every football club. It was like being told, "You need to reduce electricity usage," only to follow that up with, "You must also upgrade your stadiums and install new floodlights."


    This created a paradox: clubs were asked to cut costs and manage energy consumption, while simultaneously being required to make expensive upgrades to their facilities, putting them in a difficult financial position.


    Ultimately, while it sounds straightforward, running a football club is far from easy, especially when you factor in the added pressure of meeting fan expectations.


    So, what does all this mean?


    It meant that football was never truly taken seriously. People didn''t see it as a business; for them, it was all about enjoyment. Pure entertainment.


    This also applied to the City board. What was once merely a source of entertainment had now become a platform for them to seek help. Talking about borrowing money, they could only manage a bitter smile.


    No one had expected disaster to strike twice. Although the signs of a weakening economy hadn''t yet appeared to the wider public, those with enough experience in business could already see them looming.


    Take Eric Alexander, for example, the current Vice President of Manchester City. At just 19, he became the youngest member of the City ''A'' team, a squad his father had established.


    In 1955, after studying art at Manchester University, he joined the marketing department of the National Coal Board as a graphic artist. Growing up, he had encountered royalty, presidents, prime ministers, and tribal chiefs¡ªhis background was as prestigious as it was varied.


    The Alexander family, particularly Eric and his father, had certainly earned every accolade that came their way, especially with regard to Manchester City.


    It was while still working at the Coal Board that, at the age of 35, his father appointed him as a director at City. Eric took charge of the youth setup, the training facilities, and the Maine Road pitch. By November 1971, he had become chairman and had even completed an FA coaching course.


    However, with only 87 shares (4.22%) in his possession, it was incredibly difficult for him to rally support, propose significant changes, or push forward any motions that would reshape the club.


    Everything changed, though, after his father''s passing. With his father''s shares passed down to him, Eric''s influence within the City board was suddenly far stronger. It was a shift that completely altered the landscape of the club, but it was a path that Eric had to navigate alone.


    The Top:


    Peter Swales, the Chairman, holds the largest portion with 619 shares (30.05%)


    Simon Cussons, the Vice-Chairman, owns 566 shares (27.48%)


    Joe Smith, Presidents, holds 366 shares (17.77%)


    Among the Vice Presidents:


    Eric Alexander, now holding Albert Alexander''s shares, owns 338 shares (16.43%)


    John Humphreys holds 46 shares (2.23%)


    Sidney Rose has 43 shares (2.09%)


    Chris Muir owns 40 shares (1.94%).


    Moving to the Directors:


    Ian Niven possesses 21 shares (1.02%)


    Robert Harris holds 20 shares (0.97%)


    Richard Maddox holds 1 shares (0.05%)


    People were growing dissatisfied with Peter Swales'' leadership of the club¡ªhis approach was outdated, overly cautious, and lacked innovation. When they were relegated, the fans'' frustration boiled over, and the board, particularly the chairman, became the target of their anger.


    He was ousted, along with the vice-chairman.


    Luckily, the FA Youth Cup allowed him to hold onto his position for a while. However, the situation shifted once again when Eric aligned himself with the old guard¡ªthose who had previously run the club alongside his father.


    He also managed to bring Joe Smith into his fold, effectively raising his influence to nearly 40%, even if it wasn''t officially reflected on paper. With this newfound power, Eric ensured that the appointment of a new chairman was inevitable.


    Peter Swales and Simon Cussons were swiftly removed from their roles as chairman and vice-chairman.


    Although Eric had no formal training in managing the coal business, he knew exactly where his strengths lay. The moment his father passed away, he made a decisive break from the Coal Board, instead opting to sign a contract with a Manchester advertising firm.


    The coal business? He didn''t know a thing about it. But running a football club? Now that was something he understood.


    As a former football player, Eric had his own vision for the future of the club. Around this time, in addition to working with the advertising firm, he became more aggressive in his business ventures.


    He also bought a sports shop in Rusholme from former player Roy Clarke, who had been managing City''s popular social club. Unfortunately, the timing couldn''t have been worse.


    When the "Big Bang" hit, many supermarkets and chain stores began bulk-buying goods and selling them at prices lower than what smaller shops, including his new sports store, could even purchase them for.


    This practice of bulk buying had a devastating impact on his business. As the storm and crash unfolded, the consequences became clear.


    The middle-class exodus to the suburbs further impacted sales, and the Great Storm, followed by the market crash, sealed his fate.


    The business, Alexander admitted, "was starting to suffer."


    Now, the choice was clear¡ªManchester City or his business?


    Even the most naive person would know when to be rational. Owning a football club was appealing, but at the end of the day, it was all uncertain.


    Although City now had an annual turnover of nearly ¡ê1 million, that money was out of reach. FA rules prohibited club directors from being paid, and with dividends capped at 7.5% of the nominal share value, the most he could earn was just ¡ê42 a year.


    The moment when Alexander¡ªand the entire board¡ªdesperately needed help was as clear as day. However, they had no idea that this deal would haunt them for the rest of their lives.


    "You?"


    "Yes."


    "Do... you have the money? Where did you get it from?"


    Richard simply smiled.


    Peter Swales, who knew him best, immediately understood¡ªthe gambling money. He sighed quietly in relief, thinking to himself, ''At least if he loses a bet, I might have a chance to buy them back.''


    "Fifty percent above market value¡ªI''ll buy them for fifty percent more than the market price," Richard said confidently.


    Who could resist such an offer?


    The Great Storm and the crash hadn''t only affected Eric; other board members were struggling as well.


    Chris Muir, who owned a stationery business, was feeling the pressure. Meanwhile, Joe Smith, the Oldham-based double-glazing tycoon, was also hit as the demand for double-glazed windows plummeted.


    Yet, the older Smith remained calm.


    With countless homes and offices damaged by the storm, the need for repairs was inevitable. He knew that, sooner or later, people would need new windows and renovations, and his business would recover. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    What he needed now was cash¡ªto stock up on materials and ramp up production to be ready when demand surged. If he could secure enough funds, he wouldn''t just survive the crisis¡ªhe''d come out even stronger, and everything would turn in his favor.


    Vice President Chris Muir sold his 40 shares for ¡ê310,400.


    Vice President and former chairman Eric Alexander sold 100 shares for ¡ê582,450.


    Director Ian Niven sold 21 shares for ¡ê163,200.


    Director Robert Harris holds 20 shares for ¡ê155,200.


    Chris Muir was struggling to keep his stationery business afloat, just as Eric Alexander was working hard to sustain his newly acquired sports shop.


    Ian Niven needed the cash to keep his Denton pub running¡ªhis salary as an engineering consultant simply wasn''t enough.


    As for Robert, the assistant managing director of Britain''s largest retailer, Great Universal Stores, this was his chance to invest in something that aligned more with his career goals. Instead of holding onto City''s shares, he saw a better opportunity in acquiring shares in Great Universal Stores.


    Richard couldn''t hide his grin as he stared at the shares now in his possession. Slowly but surely, he would begin to shape the club according to his vision. This was only the beginning.


    Updated Share Ownership & ValuationTop Shareholders:


    Peter Swales 619 shares (30.05%) ¡ú ¡ê2,404,000 (unchanged)


    Simon Cussons 566 shares (27.48%) ¡ú ¡ê2,198,400 (unchanged)


    Joe Smith 366 shares (17.77%) ¡ú ¡ê1,421,600 (unchanged)


    Eric Alexander 238 shares *after selling 100 shares* (11.55%) ¡ú ¡ê924,500


    John Humphreys 46 shares (2.23%) ¡ú ¡ê178,400 (unchanged)


    Sidney Rose 43 shares (2.09%) ¡ú ¡ê167,200 (unchanged)


    Richard Maddox 182 shares (8,77%) ¡ú ¡ê628,800


    (after acquiring 100 from Eric Alexander, 40 from Chris Muir, 21 from Ian Niven, and 20 from Robert Harris)


    Chris Muir, Ian Niven, and Robert Harris were out of the race.


    Richard had spent a substantial ¡ê1,211,250 to acquire 8.77% of the club¡ªa significant investment, but it wasn''t enough.


    His voting influence remained limited, and he was still far from having the power to sway decisions in the boardroom.


    He could only sigh in regret, watching as Swales, Cussons, and Smith stood firm, unwilling to part with their shares.


    ''sigh... If only they were willing to sell...''


    It wasn''t quite what he had expected. All three were tempted by the offer¡ª50% above market value was hard to ignore. But they weren''t fools.


    They understood that, while the offer was tempting, their shares still held considerable value. Letting go wasn''t something they were ready to do just yet.


    Unlike Smith, who believed his factory''s cash flow was still healthy, Simon Cussons wasn''t facing any financial struggles. As the owner of Cussons Group Limited, a giant cosmetics company, cash was never an issue for him.


    In fact, his company was thriving. They had successfully expanded detergent production in Australia, strengthening their presence in the region. They also entered Southeast Asia with the acquisition of a factory in Indonesia, later expanding into Thailand, where they ramped up production of soap, toiletries, and baby products.


    Peter Swales, too, had no intention of selling his shares. After selling 50% of his company¡ªwhich had grown to 14 branches¡ªto Thorn Electrical, he swapped his remaining 25% stake. Financially secure and freed from his main business commitments, he focused entirely on football.


    In addition to Manchester City, he was the chairman of the Northern Premier League¡ªa league he had created to establish a national competition with automatic promotion to the Football League.


    He was confident that holding both the chairmanship of a club and a league would cement his place in football history.


    And while Richard might have felt a twinge of regret, he was ultimately content with the outcome. Everyone was happy. But Richard? He was even happier.


    Watford?


    What was Watford?


    How could Watford ever be compared to Manchester City?

 Chapter 27 - 27: Crisis-born opportunity

    The 1987/88 season was nearing its end.


    For Richard, 1987 had been a rollercoaster¡ªhis turbulent relationship with Ashley, the ups and downs of the economy, and, of course, Manchester City''s never-ending struggles.


    Today, he found himself at Maine Road, watching City take on a struggling Sheffield side. It was a crucial home match, and City desperately needed a win to salvage what little hope remained.


    As he arrived at the stadium, the sight before him was striking. The air was thick with tension, frustration lingering like an unshakable fog.


    "WE NEVER WIN ANYWAY... WE NEVER WIN ANYWAY.."


    The chant echoed through the stands, a chorus of disillusioned supporters singing in unison. Their voices carried not just anger, but a weary resignation¡ªa reflection of the team''s struggles under manager Mel Machin.


    It had been a season of disappointment.


    Eliminated in the FA Cup quarter-finals. Knocked out in the League Cup fifth round. Sent packing in the second round of the Full Members'' Cup. And in the Second Division table? A miserable 11th place, with no chance of promotion.


    But the real agony? Manchester City''s staggering, almost incomprehensible run of 34 league games away from home without a single victory.


    Every away trip felt doomed before it even began. No matter the opponent, no matter the circumstances, City always found a way to crumble. Late collapses, defensive blunders, missed chances¡ªit was as if the team had forgotten how to win on the road.


    Even the youth team, once a source of pride, had struggled to replicate last year''s success. The only shining lights were Rob Jones and Graeme Le Saux¡ªboth players Richard had personally brought to City.


    Week after week, they outperformed their competition, often overshadowing first-teamers Steve Mills and Andy Hinchcliffe. But they were a right-back and a left-back¡ªhow much of a difference could they really make in a team so desperately lacking in confidence?


    At the end of the day, it was the strikers who scored goals and won matches.


    Richard sighed as he took his seat. The match hadn''t even begun, yet the weight of failure already hung over Maine Road.


    Something had to change.


    Chris Armstrong, the team''s biggest hope in attack, was sidelined with an injury. Since his absence, City''s performances had taken a sharp downturn. Nearly every match ended in a frustrating draw, with no one able to step up and provide the cutting edge they desperately needed.


    "That''s the boy my boyfriend bought!"


    The sudden outburst cut through the usual murmur of the stands, making heads turn in confusion.


    What was this woman talking about?


    City had just played out yet another frustrating draw, but their full-backs¡ªJones and Le Saux¡ªhad been the standout performers. Yet, instead of discussing the match, fans were now staring at the woman who had just randomly shouted into the crowd.


    She wore a hat and sunglasses, clearly trying (and failing) to go incognito. Her voice carried a mix of pride and excitement, though whether she was genuinely boasting or just seeking attention was up for debate.


    People exchanged glances, some amused, others bewildered.


    "Who is she talking to?" someone whispered.


    "Shhh, don''t make eye contact," another muttered.


    "Oi, someone check if she''s had a few too many before kickoff," a man snickered.


    Noticing the stares, she huffed and crossed her arms. "I''m not lying! My boyfriend is a scout, and he''s the one who brought them in! Even Armstrong¡ªhe''s here because of him! And there''s another player he found¡­ uh, Mc-something? I don''t remember! But he''s supposed to be really good!"


    That wasn''t the issue here, lady! Why scream in the middle of a match and startle everyone?


    Still, curiosity got the best of the City fans around her.


    "Wait, your boyfriend works for Manchester City?" someone finally asked.


    "Of course! He''s the best!" she declared proudly, flashing a thumbs-up. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A few skeptical looks passed between the fans.


    "Really? What''s his name?" one of them asked.


    She simply smirked, full of confidence, but chose not to answer.


    The incident in the stands went completely unnoticed by Richard, who was seated comfortably in the director''s box, far removed from the chaos of the regular crowd.


    ''Ah, so this is what it''s like to watch a match from here,'' Richard mused, leaning back in his seat.


    It was his first time experiencing a Manchester City match from this vantage point. The atmosphere still carried the usual rowdy chants and frustrated outbursts, but the physical barrier separating the sections made it feel far less cramped.


    Of course, despite his legal standing, Richard remained an outsider among the board members. His position was secure¡ªhe had climbed his way into Manchester City''s inner circle through legitimate means¡ªbut acceptance was another matter entirely.


    After all, his rise hadn''t followed the traditional path. He had bypassed the covenant, seizing the club''s financial crisis as an opportunity to buy his way in. And in the world of politics, nothing stung more than an outsider exploiting weakness.


    Even Swales was beginning to regret ever offering Richard that single share bid. Had he not been present at the meeting yesterday, Swales could have easily increased his own stake¡ªor even driven the price down to rock bottom.


    But he never anticipated Richard swooping in and paying 50% above market value for the shares. Instead of tightening his grip on the club, he had unknowingly allowed an outsider to strengthen his foothold.


    Were they dissatisfied with his presence? Absolutely.


    Were they jealous? Even more so.


    Did Richard care? Not in the slightest.


    At the end of the day, this wasn''t about who had more money¡ªit was about who had the nerve to make bold moves. If wealth alone dictated success, why was he the one sitting here?


    He wasn''t the richest man in the room. With just ¡ê2,500,000 in liquid assets, he couldn''t compete financially with the top brass of the club. But that wasn''t the point. The real question was: Did they have the guts to pay 50% above market value for shares like he did?


    No.


    Then why blame him?


    And that was why he was in the director''s box, while they sat there, bitter and powerless to do anything about it.


    Richard glanced around. Seated nearby were Peter Swales, Simon Cussons, Joe Smith, and other club directors, all watching gloomily as their beloved City struggled on the pitch.


    Once again, City had inexplicably lost¡ªthis time 3-2 at home to a struggling Sheffield United side.


    "WE NEVER WIN ANYWAY... WE NEVER WIN ANYWAY..."


    The chants rang through the stadium, carrying a mix of frustration and resignation.


    Before the league season came to a close, it was briefly put on hold for a week as Wembley Stadium hosted the Football League Centenary Tournament.


    The event, celebrating the league''s 100th anniversary, featured 16 clubs competing over two days.


    Nottingham Forest emerged as the winners, but the excitement quickly faded when violent clashes broke out between Scarborough and Wolverhampton Wanderers fans. Eighteen Scarborough hooligans were sentenced to up to 12 months in prison for their role in the chaos.


    The Football League Centenary Tournament is over, and soon the league will be over as well.


    As expected, Manchester City finished the 1987/88 season in 9th place in the Second Division, ensuring another year outside the top flight.


    Meanwhile, Portsmouth, Watford, and Oxford United were relegated from the First Division, while Millwall and Aston Villa secured promotion. Middlesbrough, Bradford City, and Blackburn Rovers qualified for the play-offs.


    Without bothering to bid farewell, Richard left the stadium early.


    For the next few weeks, not much happened. Now one of City''s largest shareholders, he was, of course, required to attend the club''s operational meetings¡ªthough he rarely gave his opinion.


    The Top Shareholders:


    Peter Swales, Chairman ¨C 619 shares (30.05%)


    Simon Cussons, Vice-Chairman ¨C 566 shares (27.48%)


    Joe Smith, President ¨C 366 shares (17.77%)


    Eric Alexander, Vice-President ¨C 238 shares (11.55%)


    John Humphreys, Vice-President ¨C 46 shares (2.23%)


    Sidney Rose, Vice-President ¨C 43 shares (2.09%)


    Richard Maddox, Directors ¨C 182 shares (8.77%)


    Today''s agenda featured two major issues that could shape the club''s future.


    First, the board would deliberate on Tottenham Hotspur''s record-breaking ¡ê1.7 million bid for star striker Paul Stewart.


    Second, they would review an ambitious proposal for a new stadium, part of Manchester''s bid to host the 1996 Summer Olympics. The plan envisioned an 80,000-capacity state-of-the-art facility on a greenfield site west of the city center.


    High-stakes decisions loomed, but Richard wasn''t particularly interested. The other board members would simply outvote him, rendering his input meaningless. It was a game he had no interest in playing.


    ''Such bullies... tch.'' Richard clicked his tongue in annoyance.


    After wrapping up discussions on other matters, the board finally turned to potential transfer targets¡ªnow this was something Richard actually cared about.


    He put forward two names:


    Lee Sharpe, a talented 16-year-old winger from Torquay United, turning 17 next month.


    Andy Cole, a promising 16-year-old striker from England''s elite Lilleshall Hall academy.


    Lilleshall wasn''t a club; it was England''s National School of Excellence, an elite residential academy established by the FA to develop the nation''s most promising young footballers.


    Often referred to as the Hogwarts of English football, it was founded by England manager Bobby Robson and FA technical director Charles Hughes.


    Richard had visited Lilleshall out of curiosity¡ªafter all, how could anyone passionate about English football not be interested in the place where the country''s future stars were being molded?


    What he hadn''t expected was to see a familiar face.


    Andy Cole.


    Sharpe would cost only around ¡ê30,000. As for Cole, they would have to wait until next year since he had just turned 16.


    Considering Richard''s impressive track record in talent scouting¡ªhaving already brought in Rob Jones, Graeme Le Saux, Steve McManaman, and Chris Armstrong¡ªthe board didn''t immediately dismiss his suggestions this time. Instead, they opted to observe first.


    After all, one of his recommendations had come from the prestigious Lilleshall. That alone carried weight. And as long as the costs were low, the board was open to considering his proposals.


    The next issue was finding a new striker. With Paul Stewart''s departure all but finalized, they needed a replacement to support Paul Moulden, who had now taken over as the team''s main striker.


    Richard proposed four affordable options:


    Teddy Sheringham (Millwall, Striker, Age: 21)


    Tony Cascarino (Gillingham, Striker, Age: 24)


    Les Ferdinand (Hayes, Striker, Age: 20)


    Ian Wright (Greenwich Borough, Striker, Age: 24)


    And the result?


    It didn''t matter. Ultimately, it was manager Mel Machin and Tony Book who had the final say¡ªMachin overseeing the first team and Book handling the youth squad.


    Lee Sharpe? Too thin.


    Andy Cole? Too young.


    Cascarino, Ferdinand, Ian Wright? Not even on the radar.


    Instead, Machin and Book opted to spend ¡ê320,000 on Brian Gayle¡ªa move that left Richard fuming.


    Storming into Machin''s office, he erupted.


    "Brian Gayle?! BRIAN GAYLE, SERIOUSLY?! You spent ¡ê320,000 on him?! Are you f*cking insane?! And what the hell is this¡ªJohn Deehan?! A player-coach?! You must be fing kidding me!!!*"


    Machin''s expression darkened. "Mr. Richard Maddox, I suggest you watch your mouth...!"

 Chapter 28 - 28: Frustrated Richard

    Machin''s face darkened as he squared up to Richard, his voice laced with irritation.


    "Listen here, Mr. Richard Maddox. You might be a former player¡ªa good one, I admit¡ªbut you don''t run the football side of things. That''s my job. We make the decisions, and the higher-ups approve them."


    His assistant, standing behind him, let out a dry chuckle. "Typical, isn''t it? Just because you played the game, you think you know it all. Let me tell you something, son¡ªfootball isn''t just about kicking a ball around."


    "You think you know better, huh?" Richard snapped, stepping forward. "You just wasted ¡ê700,000 on a brick wall with feet! Meanwhile, you ignored Ian Wright¡ªwho, by the way, just scored 33 goals for Greenwich Borough! For PEANUTS!" S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "And where is this Greenwich Borough, anyway?" Machin''s assistant yawned. "Some lower-league club trying to make it big? What exactly are you trying to do here, Mr. Maddox? If you want to complain, why not take it to the board first? Aren''t you one of them?"


    They weren''t afraid of him.


    Even with his position as the sole director of Manchester City, it didn''t matter. They didn''t flinch, didn''t waver. Their minds were made up.


    It was a statement¡ªa reminder that, title or not, he was still outnumbered. Manager Machin had the board''s full backing.


    Knowing this, his expression darkened further. The fact that he had already raised this issue¡ªonly to be ignored¡ªfueled his frustration. What angered him most was that, in moments like these, the boards suddenly seemed more united than ever.


    His opinions and concerns were constantly dismissed, as if his voice carried no weight in meetings. And if he ever pushed too hard, it always came down to a vote¡ªa vote he was destined to lose.


    "Richard, we''ve already agreed that you''ll handle scouting with Chief Barnes. If you have any complaints, take them up with him," Machin said firmly. "Day-to-day operations are our responsibility, and that''s how it''s going to stay. Don''t overstep your boundaries."


    Overstep your boundaries?


    Richard wanted to laugh. What was the point of handling scouting if his recommendations were always ignored?


    Even Chief Barnes¡ªevery time Richard brought him a player, his response was always the same: ''We need to observe first.'' Then, out of nowhere, a new signing would be announced the following week¡ªwithout him even knowing.


    What the f*ck is this?


    One day, he decided to raise the issue directly. Since Machin had failed to get the first team promoted back to the First Division, wasn''t it clear his performance was below standard? Shouldn''t they fire him immediately?


    Swales shuffled some papers before speaking. "This is a vote on whether or not to relieve Mr. Machin of his duties as first-team manager." His voice trailed off as he cast a subtle glance toward Richard.


    Richard sat stiffly in his chair, his fingers interlocked tightly. He had made his position clear¡ªMachin had failed to bring City back to where they belonged. His tactics were outdated, his signings were questionable at best, and most importantly, the team had shown little progress under his leadership.


    Swales continued, "Raise your hand if you are in favor of terminating Mr. Machin''s contract."


    Only two other hands joined Richard''s¡ªthose of Simon Cussons, the vice-chairman, and Vice President Sidney Rose.


    Swales, unimpressed, adjusted his glasses. "And those in favor of keeping Mr. Machin as manager?"


    One by one, hands began to rise. When the final count was in, the verdict was clear¡ªMachin had the board''s full support.


    "The majority has spoken," Swales announced. "Mel Machin will remain as manager."


    Richard sat back, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.


    "Meeting adjourned," Swales declared.


    He failed in the end.


    He was filled with regret. He regretted it so much¡ªhow casually he had dismissed the opportunity to sell his shares in City for Watford. If he had known things would turn out like this, he wouldn''t have hesitated to make the switch.


    ''It seems City''s future success has already made me biased, huh?'' Richard could only sigh wryly.


    He forgot that these were still the early days of English football, and every club had the same potential to become like Manchester City in the future.


    Book and Barnes, the chief scout, sighed and placed a hand on Richard''s shoulder, attempting to console him.


    "Let me tell you how this works, Richard. You sit in your fancy seat, nod along, and leave the football decisions to the professionals."


    Something inside him snapped. He turned toward Book and Barnes, his voice laced with frustration.


    "Rob Jones, Graeme Le Saux, Steve McManaman, Chris Armstrong. And who did you bring in? Paul Moulden? Ian Brightwell? Who else? What are they even doing in the senior squad?"


    Silence.


    The smirks vanished. Machin''s eyes narrowed. Book and Barnes shifted uncomfortably.


    Richard took a deep breath. "Let me make one thing clear. I might not be part of the coaching staff, but as a director, I am responsible for how this club performs. So..." His voice was low but carried a dangerous edge. "You''d better prove your worth."


    "..."


    The room fell into uneasy silence. Straightening his tie, Richard turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving the so-called "football men" to stew in their own arrogance.


    The following week, an emergency general meeting or EGM was suddenly called¡ªso quickly that Richard didn''t even know it was happening.


    The agenda?


    "Richard Maddox''s personal interference in football operations and his attempts to dismiss the manager," Swales declared gravely to the press. "We fear he may disrupt or influence the players."


    Richard was blindsided. It wasn''t until he noticed a small crowd gathering outside his rented house that he realized something big had happened.


    Then came the question that made everything clear.


    "Mr. Maddox, how do you respond to your dismissal as City director?"


    For a moment, Richard just stood there, stunned. A sharp laugh threatened to escape his lips. Hah¡­ He wanted to laugh out loud, but anger burned inside him.


    "What did you just say?"


    The reporter asking the question¡ªjudging by his attire¡ªwas likely from The Official Magazine of Manchester City.


    Manchester City had launched its first official club magazine in the 1967-68 season, a brainchild of their first-ever press officer, Dick Carpenter. It had become a direct bridge between the club and its supporters, a platform for fans to voice their concerns and receive official responses.


    Now, it seemed that very platform was being used to deliver the news of his dismissal¡ªbefore he had even been informed himself.


    "Your removal from the board was just announced by Mr. Swales. The club cited your continued interference in football operations. Do you have any comment on that?"


    A tense silence hung in the air. Richard clenched his fists, but only for a moment. With a slow exhale, he forced himself to relax. Then, almost deliberately, he smiled.


    "Interference?" he repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. "Let me get this straight¡ªbecause I demanded accountability? Because I challenged decisions that were actively harming this club? I''m the problem?"


    The reporter nodded eagerly, pen poised over his notepad, while the camera crew waited for Richard''s response.


    Richard took another breath, his voice steady yet firm.


    "I''ve given everything to this club. And now, instead of addressing the real issues¡ªpoor management, outdated recruitment policies, a team stuck in mediocrity¡ªthey decide the best course of action is to get rid of me?"


    The journalists stirred¡ªthis was the kind of story they thrived on.


    "Mr. Maddox, could this be related to your past as a Sheffield Wednesday player?"


    Richard''s mouth twitched, and he locked eyes with the reporter. He didn''t flinch. He simply took a moment before responding.


    "The moment I was injured and my contract was terminated, my relationship with Sheffield Wednesday ended. If I still had ties to them, do you honestly think I would have brought Rob Jones, Graeme Le Saux, Chris Armstrong, and Steve McManaman to City? You see what I mean, right?"


    The crowd was stunned. This was a bombshell revelation.


    "Mr. Maddox, you mentioned bringing Rob Jones, Graeme Le Saux, Chris Armstrong, and Steve McManaman to City. Do you have any proof of that?"


    Richard shot the reporter a confused look.


    In scouting, every player observed is documented. A detailed report is created, including strengths, weaknesses, and potential, often concluding with the scout''s overall rating. This report is then submitted to the club''s database, complete with a timestamp.


    With a resigned chuckle, he retrieved his trial documentation. After verifying and photographing the paperwork, people finally started to believe him. To further cement his claims, he even presented the bonuses he had received for the players.


    "Mr. Richard, can you tell us exactly what happened and what you plan to do next? Are you considering taking legal action against Manchester City?"


    Richard blinked. ''What kind of stupid question is that?''


    He cleared his throat. "No. But I will say one thing¡ªremember this," he continued, his gaze sharp. "The reason I was dismissed is that I wanted to bring in players who could truly represent City. Players who could take this club back to the top¡ªeven as champions of the First Division!"


    WOAAAHHH!!!


    An uproar erupted.


    Was he serious? Manchester City... champions of the First Division?!


    "Mr. Richard, do you take responsibility for your statements?"


    "Mr. Richard, is this a declaration of war against Manchester City''s management?"


    "Mr. Richard, do you believe Manager Mel Machin can''t bring glory to Manchester City?"


    As the questions flooded in, Richard raised his hand, signaling for a brief pause.


    "I have a very good relationship with Mr. Machin," he stated firmly. "If I''m being honest, our philosophies are just different. But that doesn''t mean Mr. Machin is a bad manager. Let''s be clear about that."


    "As for the second question, there''s no ''declaration of war'' here. I''m just stating what I believe is best for Manchester City."


    "And for the first question? Yes. Remember these names¡ªthe names that will shake English football in the future: Teddy Sheringham from Millwall, Tony Cascarino from Gillingham, Les Ferdinand from Hayes, and Ian Wright from Greenwich Borough. All four of them will shake English football and score more goals than you can imagine."


    "..."


    Sheri¡­ who? Ian Knight?


    None of these names were familiar to most of the crowd¡ªexcept perhaps Sheringham, but he was currently on loan at Swedish side Djurg?rden.


    No one knew what the future held for these players, but here was Richard, declaring that they would transform English football.


    Finally, he let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "You know what? They dismissed me? Fine. Let them pat each other on the back. But mark my words¡ªthis club won''t move forward. And when they realize that? They''ll remember this moment."


    He turned on his heel, pushing past the stunned crowd and disappearing into his house, slamming the door behind him.


    Outside, the cameras kept rolling. The headlines would write themselves.


    The next day felt the same.


    Richard thought to himself that, instead of stressing over rent, maybe it was time to return to Islington.


    He had already considered it. After being dismissed, there was no reason to keep his position as a youth coach and scout anymore.


    DING DONG.


    Richard raised a brow in surprise. The reporters again? Wasn''t yesterday enough?


    Confused, he stood up and opened the door¡ªonly to find a bald man standing there in a Hawaiian shirt, black sunglasses, and a cigar dangling from his mouth like he owned the place.

 Chapter 29 - 29: Her uncle is here

    Richard was lounging on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the paper of all the talented players he wanted to bring under his banner when the doorbell rang.


    He got up, stretching lazily, and opened the door.


    Standing in the doorway was a man¡ªa bald man, looking like he was ready to explode. His Hawaiian shirt swagger was gone, replaced by a furious energy. The cigar in his mouth was practically trembling.


    Richard was confused. ''What''s with this guy? Wrong address?''


    "You monster!" The man barked, his voice booming. "We need to talk!"


    Richard, still a little groggy from his earlier thoughts, blinked at the sight of the man standing there, hands on hips. "What?"


    The man didn''t waste any time. "You made Ashley cry, you absolute muppet!" he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger. "Do you have any idea what you''ve done?!"


    Richard, confused and rubbing his temples, muttered, "Ashley? Who the hell''s Ash¡ª"


    ''Wait a minute.''


    Stunned, Richard raised his head and took a careful look at the man in front of him.


    Seeing other party confused expression, the man became even angrier. Puffing his cigar, he pointed directly at him. "Don''t play dumb with me. Richard Maddox. You are Richard Maddox," he snapped, stepping forward as if he were about to start a lecture on manners.


    "She''s a sweet girl, and you made her cry like a baby. How dare you?! Monster!"


    Feeling the neighbors'' stares, Richard looked left and right before raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, sir. How about we talk inside first?"


    The man took a deep drag from his cigar, clearly trying to calm himself down. "You think this is some sort of joke? I don''t care who you''ve made cry in the past, Richard, but my Ashley is off-limits! I can''t believe you''d be so careless."


    "Yes, yes, but let''s talk inside first, alright?" Richard replied, trying to defuse the situation.


    Once they were inside, the situation didn''t improve. The man stormed in, his steps heavy and purposeful, making sure to get in Richard''s personal space as he started his rant.


    Richard, trying to maintain some composure, gestured to the couch. "Alright, sir, before we continue, may I know your name?"


    Puff...


    The man didn''t answer. Instead, the air in the room grew tense, thick with the man''s frustration, as the cigar smoke swirled around like an angry cloud.


    "I don''t know what kind of person you are, but making my girl cry? That''s crossing the line. You monster can''t just treat people like that!"


    "Yes, yes, I''m in the wrong," Richard muttered, trying to calm things down. "But, sir, before we talk about Ashley, may I know your name? What''s your relationship with Ashley? Are you her father?"


    "You think you''re some sort of godsend, huh?" The man continued, his voice rising. "You think you can do anything you want just because you''re some little director of an unknown second division team?!" His voice grew louder now, almost like a lecture, and Richard knew it wasn''t going to be the last.


    Richard sighed, knowing this wasn''t going to end anytime soon. He was starting to get a little tired of the lecture. So he walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water.


    He returned and handed it to the man, who was still fuming with smoke swirling around his head.


    The man looked at the water with narrowed eyes. "What''s this? You think this will calm me down?"


    Richard sighed helplessly. "Maybe you''re just dehydrated, mate. You''re smoking like a chimney. You might want to hydrate before you blow a gasket."


    The man stared at Richard for a moment before taking a reluctant sip, his face softening just a little.


    The cigar puffed again, the smoke curling up lazily as he finally took a seat, though not without muttering a few more things under his breath.


    "She''s got a good future ahead of her... She¡ª"


    "F*CK!!!" Richard had had enough.


    "What the hell do you want, mate?" He stood up, his voice rising. "You barge in here, shouting at me, and when I ask you a simple question, you start rambling like it''s all on me. Do you have a problem with me or what?"


    He slammed his hands on the table, cutting the man off mid-sentence. The man''s eyes widened, his cigar frozen mid-hand.


    To be honest, he had been bottling everything up lately. After being dismissed, he needed a way to channel all that pent-up energy. Now, at least, he finally had the chance to let it all out.


    "Honestly, what do you expect me to do, huh?" Richard snapped, hands flying up in exasperation. "You come in here yelling like you''re some bloody angry parrot, spitting everywhere¡ªwhat is this, a showdown or a zoo?"


    "You''re gonna stand there, all tough, and yell at me about Ashley? Who¡ªby the way¡ªis still probably crying into her pillow while you''re here lecturing me like I''m some villain. I''ve been to more dramatic soap operas than this! What is this, a bloody episode of ''Who Wants to Shout the Loudest''?!"


    The man blinked, obviously caught off guard by the other party outburst. The tension in the room began to shift, though it was still there¡ªjust a little less explosive.


    "You¡ª"


    "You what?!"


    ""Monster¡ª"


    "¡­."


    Fifteen minutes later, Richard and the man were both out of breath, pacing around the room like winded boxers, trying to catch their breath after a pointless back-and-forth of words. Neither one had given an inch, but they had both thrown enough insults and sarcastic remarks to fill a novel.


    "¡ªand all you''re doing is making it worse! Should I offer you tea? A biscuit? Maybe a comfy chair to sit on while you yell at me about your poor Ashley? Maybe a pillow so you can scream into it while I try not to laugh?"


    This was not what the man had anticipated. Usually, when he spoke, people would just keep quiet because arguing with him was like fighting a never-ending battle.


    His words would just roll on and on until he exhausted himself, and then the other party would begin talking logic with him.


    But here? The other party clearly wasn''t playing according to the script. He was giving it right back.


    The man had expected to be the one doing the talking, the one with the upper hand, but instead, he found himself in an argument he hadn''t planned for. Richard was indeed a different breed.


    The man''s eyes narrowed, and he sneered. "Monster, monster. You''re a bloody weird guy, you know that?"


    Richard let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in his chair "Whatever you say, mate," he muttered, rolling his eyes


    "..."


    Seeing that no one wanted to back down from each other, in the end, it was Richard who gave in. He sighed and plopped onto the couch. "Let''s introduce ourselves properly this time, shall we?"


    "¡­Fine then," the man relented, taking a deep drag of his cigar before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. Once satisfied with his buildup, he finally went for it.


    "The name''s Eric Hall, darling! Football''s original super-agent¡ªthe man who''s sealed deals bigger than your wildest dreams! Now, tell me, who the bloody hell are you?"


    Allen rubbed his temples. What an introduction.


    "Richard Maddox. You''ve seen it in the news, right?"


    Eric stared at him, silent.


    "What?"


    Noticing Eric''s odd expression, Richard instinctively ran a hand over his face. Did he have something on it?


    Eric scoffed. "I thought you were an agent, a competitor."


    Richard frowned. "An agent? You mean a football agent?"


    Eric leaned back, exhaling a thick puff of smoke. "Look, darling, I''ve worked with the best¡ªDennis Wise, Neil Ruddock, even a few rock ''n'' roll legends before I took over football! That''s why I know exactly how agents operate."


    Richard blinked, momentarily thrown. This¡­ this was the second time someone had told him that.


    Was his work actually more like that of a football agent? S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Eric smirked. "Listen, this isn''t the first time we''ve crossed paths. I just needed to see what kind of bloke you really are. Newcastle? Oxford? Southampton? Are you kidding me? Why would you go out of your way to escort that kid if you weren''t his agent? And why would City even allow it?"


    Richard opened his mouth to respond, but Eric wasn''t finished.


    "How the bloody hell is a football club still running when they let their employees run amok and disrespect them like that?" He shuddered at the thought. ''Such absurdity. Monster, monster!''


    Richard was annoyed by this guy, especially his "Monster, monster!" catchphrase.


    What the heck was that?


    But then he froze, as if something had just clicked in his memory. "Wait a minute¡­ what''s your name again?"


    Eric lazily tapped his foot against the floor, utterly unimpressed. Still young and already forgetful. He shook his head. Better to keep my niece away from him before she catches his Alzheimer''s.


    "Eric Hall."


    Richard''s eyes widened. "Fasha¡ª"


    "STOP-STOP-STOP!" Eric cut him off before he could finish, his breath turning ragged.


    That incident was a stain on his career, and every time he heard it mentioned, it annoyed him to death.


    But Richard wasn''t about to let it go. He grinned and relaxed his body. "Ah, so you''re that Eric. The mastermind behind that ''¡ê1m Football Star'' magazine article¡­" He gave Eric a thumbs-up.


    The ¡ê1m Football Star article marked the beginning of the fallout between Eric Hall and his client, John Fashanu. The conflict started when Hall, acting as Fashanu''s agent, helped his brother, Justin, sell his story to a national tabloid, in which Justin publicly came out as g*y.


    Truly bold!


    Eric''s face turned red, his nostrils flaring as if steam might come out of his ears. He wanted to snap back, but the brick in his pocket rang.


    He didn''t even bother to find a quiet place to talk or anything.


    "Hello?" he said, picking up his own phone as if to act casual.


    "Dave Beasant? I thought we already agreed you was heading to Luton."


    "Newcastle made a last-minute bid?"


    "Understood. I''m heading to Newcastle right away."


    He didn''t even care that Richard was literally standing right in front of him!


    With a sharp exhale, he suppressed his irritation and jabbed a finger at Richard. "You wait for me here. Our business isn''t finished. And stay away from Ashley."


    Eric stood up abruptly, ready to storm out, but before he could take a step, Richard grabbed his wrist.


    "Wait, wait, wait¡ªyou''re going to negotiate, right?"


    Eric shot him an annoyed look. "And what does that have to do with you?" He tried to yank his hand free, but Richard''s grip was firm.


    "No, no, hear me out. Let''s make a deal, alright? If you let me tag along, I won''t bother Ashley again. How about it? A fair trade, yeah?"


    Hearing this bastard mention his niece again made Eric''s blood boil. His jaw tightened, and for a second, it looked like he might just deck Richard right then and there.


    "I DARE¡ª"


    "I''ll apologize to her myself. Just let me tag along, would you?" Richard said seriously, holding his ground.


    Eric exhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes narrowing. "You think you can bargain with me?"


    "I think I just did."


    "Arrrh, I am so angry!"


    With a forceful yank, he freed his arm and stormed off.


    Richard sighed, figuring that was the end of it. But then, to his surprise, Eric whirled back around so fast that he thought he might have given himself whiplash.


    He squinted at Richard, clearly battling some internal struggle.


    "You promise you''ll apologize?"


    Richard straightened up, placing a solemn hand over his chest.


    "I swear on my manhood!"


    "Then get in the bloody car before I change my mind!"

 Chapter 30 - 30: Football Agent

    Richard grinned and jogged toward the vehicle. The second he slid into the passenger seat, Eric pointed a finger at him.


    "If you so much as blink at Ashley the wrong way, I''ll make sure you regret ever being born."


    Richard buckled his seatbelt. "Noted."


    Eric grumbled as he started the engine, still muttering curses under his breath. This was going to be a nightmare, he could already feel it.


    Richard was thrilled with this outcome. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that his relationship with Shearer and Le Tissier felt less like a coach and player dynamic and more like that of a player and an agent.


    Originally, he had never even considered becoming a football agent, but his meeting with Eric just now had just changed his mind.


    Yes, it was the 1980s, and it was still too early to call football agents what they would become in the future.


    He didn''t know much about the profession. Even as a former player, the landscape of football negotiations in this era was vastly different.


    Handshake deals, and under-the-table payments were common. With no strict licensing system, anyone could claim to be an agent, which led to rampant tapping up of players and the infamous bungs¡ªbribes given to managers or club officials to push through transfers.


    This was precisely why he had always handled negotiations himself when he was still as a player. Even then, it was only about salary, securing bonuses, and determining the contract duration¡ªjust the most basic aspects.


    ''But this works in my favor,'' Richard thought to himself.


    Less regulation for players was probably a nightmare for them, but for someone like him¡ªwho wasn''t a player¡ªthis chaotic system presented an opportunity.


    And considering he was, arguably, one of the biggest shareholders in Manchester City, he could very well carve out a dual role for himself.


    ''I can sign the best players before they become stars, and by the time regulations tighten, I''ll have already built strong relationships with them. My name will be well-known by then¡ªand that can only be good for City in the long run.''


    Eric, who was driving, glanced over and saw Richard grinning and chuckling to himself like a madman. A chill ran down his spine.


    "This man is crazy... Monster, monster."


    And just as he was processing that thought¡ªBAM! The car jolted as they nearly crashed into the curb.


    "GODDAMN It!" Richard yelped, clutching the dashboard. "Do you even realize I haven''t fulfilled my promise to meet Ashley yet?! Are you trying to kill me before I get the chance?!"


    Eric scoffed, gripping the wheel. "Then shut up and stop acting like a lunatic in my car!"


    He threw Richard a suspicious side-eye. "And listen, I''ll say this once¡ªI like women! So if you even think of trying anything funny, I''ll personally be the first to kick you out of this car, understand?!"


    Richard blinked. "What the hell are you even talking about?!"


    The journey from Manchester to Newcastle was long, and despite their constant bickering, silence eventually settled between them.


    At first, Richard was still glaring at Eric for nearly getting them killed, while Eric kept side-eyeing Richard like he was some kind of lunatic.


    But after an hour on the road, their mutual irritation began to fade. Because, in the end, they shared the same passion¡ªor at least, the undeniable charm of football was enough to mend the cracks left by their rough first impressions.


    Eric tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, eyes still fixed on the road. "You really can''t go back to playing football?"


    Richard sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Unless I fancy dying before I hit thirty, yeah, I''d better stop."


    Eric shot him a sideways glance, his expression softening¡ªjust a little. "So how the hell did you end up involved with Manchester City?"


    Richard chuckled, staring out the window at the passing sky. "Now that¡­ is a ridiculous story."


    Eric smirked. "Alright, you''ve got my attention. Spill it."


    And so, Richard did¡ªrecounting the absurd wager, the unexpected twist, and how, before he even realized it, he was tangled up in something far bigger than he''d ever planned.


    Eric listened intently at first, but soon, his signature raspy cackle filled the car. "You absolute nutter! Monster, monster! You''re telling me you basically bluffed your way into running a club?!"


    "Well, who would''ve thought the chairman himself would put his shares on the line instead of money?"


    Eric shook his head, still laughing. "You know what? I actually know Swales. Before he joined City, he was the chairman of the Northern Premier League. And after that? He was on the board at Altrincham FC¡ªended up managing them part-time too. Hell of a run, 35-game winning streak. Only ended in the FA Cup third round away."


    Richard, however, was more interested in something else. "Hey, by the way, care to tell me why you became a football agent instead? I heard you used to work with musicians¡ªSex Pistols, T. Rex¡­ Why the sudden career shift?"


    Eric glanced at Richard before turning his focus back to the road. "Why? You? Interested in becoming a football agent? Didn''t you just say you weren''t?"


    Richard waved a hand dismissively. "I never said I wasn''t interested. I just hadn''t thought about it before. But after meeting yo¡ª"


    "Oh, for the love of God, don''t say something clich¨¦ like ''inspired me or something'' or I swear, I''ll pull over and toss you out right now."


    Richard laughed. "Haha, don''t worry. Just curious, though¡ªwhy the switch? You had rockstars, punk legends¡ªwhy trade that for a bunch of lads kicking a ball around?"


    Eric shot him a glare before returning his attention to the road. "Bloody hell. I''ve worked with Frank Sinatra, Cliff Richard, Paul McCartney, and the Bay City Rollers. I even knew Marc Bolan since we were teenagers¡ªhell, we even appeared on Top of the Pops together!"


    "Yes, yes, you''re the greatest," Richard said, impatiently. "Now, just get to the point." He was already exhausted by Eric''s endless boasting.


    Eric scowled at him. "First, you bluff your way into running a football club, and now you want to dip your toes into agency work? You don''t even know the half of it."


    Still, even as he cursed, he continued, "No fancy license, no official rules¡ªagents are the bad guys. Clubs don''t like us. Managers barely tolerate us. And players? Half of them don''t even understand what we do. Oh, bloody monster, monsters!"


    Richard agreed. Football agents at this point weren''t formally recognized, and many players still relied on family members or personal connections to handle their contracts and transfers.


    The Bosman ruling had yet to be introduced, meaning clubs held far more power over players, and contracts didn''t offer the same freedom they would in later years. It was essentially a primitive retain-and-transfer system.


    "But then, why?"


    That was exactly what Richard had been wondering as well. Why was Eric still in the football business when he had once been a music promoter, rubbing shoulders with rock legends?


    "People are complicated," Eric muttered, his voice unusually quiet. "The more you interact with them, the more you get attached."


    Richard frowned at this.


    Eric exhaled sharply. "I don''t like how things are right now. Agents were supposed to continue their original purpose¡ªpromoting the internationalization of the sport and the players they represent. Instead, all these shady dealings are just making things worse. More people suffer because of it."


    Richard glanced at him, surprised by the sudden seriousness. But before he could say anything, Eric shook his head as if brushing off the thought.


    "Alright, enough of that," Eric said, gripping the steering wheel. "We''re here."


    Finally, they arrived at St. James'' Park.


    Richard had seen football stadiums before, of course, but something about St. James'' Park felt¡­ different.


    Massive. Majestic. Intimidating.


    "You look like a kid seeing Disneyland for the first time," Eric snorted as he stepped out of the car.


    Richard shrugged but didn''t deny it. After all, this was the first stadium in England to reach a capacity of 60,000, making it known as "once the largest stadium in England."


    So, of course, every time he came here, he had to savor the nostalgic vibes.


    "Come on, assistant," Eric teased, smirking. "Try not to embarrass me. Just nod, shake hands, and don''t say anything stupid."


    "Yes, sir!" Richard rolled his eyes and followed him inside.


    As always, meetings were supposed to be held in the meeting room.


    The Newcastle representatives were already seated, waiting for them¡ªtailored suits, confident smiles, firm handshakes¡ªa room full of men who lived and breathed negotiations.


    One of them stood as they entered, extending a hand toward Eric. "Eric, always a pleasure."


    Eric shook it firmly. "Likewise." With a casual gesture, he motioned to Richard. "My assistant, no need to pay him any mind."


    Everyone ignored him, and Richard simply gave his best businesslike nod as he shook hands. Throughout the entire meeting, he did not say a single word.


    The client, Dave Beasant, was a key figure in Wimbledon''s famous "long ball" style of play. His ability to launch the ball deep into opposition territory made him a valuable asset, and Newcastle wanted him.


    But there was a problem.


    Newcastle was willing to pay ¡ê800,000, while Wimbledon wouldn''t budge from ¡ê900,000. A considerable gap, and one that would require some skillful negotiation to close.


    "So," one of the Newcastle representatives began, leaning forward, "let''s get to it. We''re interested in Dave Beasant. Our offer stands at ¡ê800,000."


    "But Wimbledon is firm on ¡ê900,000¡ªyou see the gap, don''t you, gentlemen?"


    The Newcastle officials exchanged glances, unimpressed. "We''re not going above ¡ê800,000."


    "Lads, come on. I don''t know much about football, yeah? But even I ain''t blind. Beasant ain''t just some goalie¡ªhe''s a bloody cannon. You''re getting a bloke who can boot the ball halfway up the pitch and turn defense into attack in seconds. That''s Wimbledon''s whole game, innit? You really telling me that ain''t worth a bit more?"


    One of the Newcastle representatives sighed, rubbing his temples. "We''re not disputing his quality, Eric. But ¡ê900,000 is steep. ¡ê800,000 is already a fair offer."


    Eric snorted. "Fair? Mate, come off it. You lot are just trying to nick him on the cheap. Not to mention his style¡ªhe ain''t afraid to move out of the area and upfield before kicking the ball. Even his free kicks are top-notch. You''re getting two players for the price of one! You telling me that ain''t worth an extra push? ¡ê900,000. Final offer."


    The Newcastle executives exchanged glances, clearly reluctant. "Alright," one of them said. "¡ê825,000. Final offer."


    "¡ê890,000," Eric replied.


    "¡ê830,000," Newcastle countered.


    "¡ê880,000," Eric shot back.


    Finally, unwilling to prolong the negotiation any further, the Newcastle vice president at the time made one last offer: "¡ê860,000. Deal or no deal?"


    Eric clapped his hands together, grinning. "Now we''re talking! But I''ll tell you what¡ªlet''s meet in the middle. ¡ê855,000, and we shake hands right now. No more back and forth, no more time wasted. Done deal. But I have one requirement. How about it?"


    Everyone was taken aback. ''He had just lowered the deal, right? What the hell?''


    Well, actually, Wimbledon themselves had already informed him of the lowest price they were willing to accept, which was set at ¡ê850,000. The other ¡ê5,000 was just a bonus.


    "W-what requirement?" one of the young executives stammered, clearly caught off guard. This was the first time he had seen a negotiation take such an unexpected turn.


    Eric leaned forward, his expression serious. "This player''s great, and I want bonuses¡ª¡ê9,000 per goal. And if he scores 10? An extra ¡ê100,000."


    Silence fell over the room.


    That was a massive figure¡ªunexpected, even by negotiation standards. Even Richard was solemn when he heard it. But instead, the Newcastle executives exchanged glances¡­ and then nodded.


    One of them even smiled amiably. "Our pleasure, Eric."


    Eric blinked. Wait. They agreed to it? Just like that? For once, even he was momentarily stunned.


    The deal was sealed¡ªDave Beasant was moving from Wimbledon to Newcastle United for ¡ê855,000.


    Outside St. James'' Park, Eric exhaled deeply, letting the cool air wash over him after the intense negotiations. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This¡ªthis was his weapon. His edge. Just like how he had landed Gary Lineker his first-ever boot deal.


    He was the first to secure goal and appearance bonuses in player contracts. A pioneer. And today? Today was just another reminder of why he did it better than anyone else.


    Glancing at Richard, who hadn''t uttered a single word since the meeting¡ªhis expression a mix of awe and utter bewilderment¡ªEric felt a swell of pride.


    "So, Assistant, how was it?" he asked smugly. "Think you''ve learned a thing or two about negotiation?"


    "..."


    Richard remained silent, his brows furrowed in deep thought. He was thinking. Hard.


    He racked his brain, trying to make sense of something, but the answer refused to come. Helplessly, he turned to Eric.


    "Eric."


    "What?"


    "Eric, do you know what position Beasant plays?"


    Eric frowned. "Course I do. Why?"


    ''You''re lying,''


    "He''s a goalkeeper."


    "..."


    Eric''s face froze. His breath hitched. Then¡ª


    "Bloody hell. Monster, monsters!"


    "You just negotiated a goal bonus for a goalkeeper."

 Chapter 31 - 31:

    The 1988/1989 season was about to begin, and Richard was ready to capitalize on his knowledge to the fullest.


    His first target: Millwall.


    After years of battling in the lower divisions, Millwall had come agonizingly close to securing promotion to the First Division¡ªthe highest tier of English football at the time.


    The Den was disappointed, but that didn''t stop the fans from believing. They still held onto hope that their beloved Lions would rise again, triumph in the Second Division, and finally earn their place on the biggest stage in English football.


    But not everyone shared the excitement.


    Teddy Sheringham, a promising young forward, had spent much of his early Millwall career being loaned out¡ªfirst to Aldershot, then later to Swedish side Djurg?rden. While those experiences had helped shape him as a player, they had also left him frustrated.


    He wanted stability. A real shot at proving himself in the top tier. Not to be treated as an afterthought, shipped off whenever he was deemed surplus to requirements.


    Richard knew that Sheringham''s situation presented an opportunity. The young striker had talent, ambition, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªsomething to prove. But for him to succeed, he needed a guarantee.


    A guarantee that he would thrive the moment he got his first real chance to make a name for himself. And that guarantee? Richard knew exactly what it was¡ªa proper partnership.


    Anthony Guy Cascarino¡ªor as people called him, Tony Cascarino.


    For football fans in the 2000s, his name might not stand out. But for those who lived through the 1990s, the moniker "Tony Goal" was anything but unfamiliar.


    The Den, Millwall''s Stadium


    Richard next move was clear: offer Tony Cascarino''s services to Millwall.


    Richard was more than satisfied with his role as a football agent. Representing players, securing deals¡ªit suited him perfectly.


    ''Kicked out of Manchester City? Hah, I don''t care. Let''s see who''ll be laughing at the end.''


    Convincing Tony had been the easy part. After all, the striker had been stuck at Gillingham for five years, despite scoring an impressive 78 goals in 219 appearances.


    The real challenge was getting Gillingham to agree to the transfer. But in football, as long as there was money on the table, everything was negotiable.


    Cascarino''s contract had only one month left. Richard had no intention of waiting. He went straight in with an offer: ¡ê25,000 to buy out Cascarino''s contract.


    Or, as he had put it to Tony himself:


    "Do you want to play for a bigger club? I''ll help you. I''ll sponsor your contract termination¡ªbut in return, you''ll be my player."


    Tony had been stunned. In fact, he had nearly bolted from the caf¨¦ where they met. ''Crazy man,'' he probably thought. But Richard was ready for this reaction.


    "Look," Richard said calmly as he presented his salmon-colored National Identity Card. "I guess my name doesn''t ring a bell for you, does it?


    ''Richard Maddox.'' Well-known in football circles. The fallen prodigy. It''s no secret that retired footballers either become agents or take up football-related jobs.


    "Gillingham isn''t offering you a new contract, and no other club has come forward with a bid. So what now? Are you going to take a risk and move forward, or stay put and let your career stall?"


    Tony hesitated. "Why are you helping me?"


    "Because I know your potential. I''ve watched every game."


    To prove his point, Richard pulled out a thick stack of documents¡ªdetailed analyses of Tony''s strengths and weaknesses, statistics from his last season, even tape recordings of his matches at Gillingham.


    Tony''s eyes widened. This guy wasn''t just bluffing. He had done his homework.


    "Are you a football agent now?" Tony finally asked.


    Richard smiled. "Yes. And I want you to join me."


    Back at The Den, Millwall''s manager, John Docherty, paced around his office, deep in thought. The previous season had been agonizing. Millwall had come so close to promotion to the First Division, only to fall short at the final hurdle.


    Now, with the new season fast approaching, the pressure was even greater. And just when he thought things couldn''t get worse, a new problem had landed on his desk.


    One of his only two strikers was being sent on loan to Cardiff. Not because of tactical decisions, not because of injuries¡ªbut because the club was struggling financially.


    Docherty ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. How was he supposed to compete for promotion when he was losing key players before a ball had even been kicked?


    Millwall wasn''t a club blessed with resources in the first place. Every player counted. Every position mattered. And now, with a depleted strike force, they were left scrambling for a solution.


    The clock was ticking. The season opener was just around the corner. Millwall needed reinforcements¡ªfast.


    "That''s why I want to offer Tony''s services to Millwall," Richard said confidently. "I believe Tony will become a great striker here, and of course, I trust Coach Docherty to guide him to the First Division. Isn''t that right?"


    Even though the flattery was well-crafted, Docherty remained skeptical. But as he looked over the neatly organized data Richard had provided¡ªstats, reports, scouting notes¡ªhe found himself at a loss for words.


    After a moment, he turned his gaze back to Richard. "I''ve heard about you. About what happened with City. Does Cascarino have anything to do with them?"


    "No!" Richard said firmly. "Tony is already my player. I''m his agent, and I will represent him now and in the future. Anything concerning Tony goes through me."


    Why was this young agent being so direct? But as he glanced back at the statistics in front of him, he had to admit¡ªCascarino had potential.


    "I know about your situation, Coach," Richard continued. "And to be honest, I''m very concerned."


    Docherty sighed and rubbed his temples. He knew exactly what Richard was referring to¡ªMillwall''s lack of strikers. Their only real option up front was Steve Anthrobus, and even then, rumors were swirling that Wimbledon had their eyes on him.


    With just one forward left, how could they possibly compete this season?


    "Coach," Richard straightened his posture, his tone serious, "I''d like to recommend another player to Millwall."


    Docherty shook his head. "Impossible. We don''t have the funds for another transfer."


    "No need," Richard said smoothly. "The player is already at Millwall."


    That caught Docherty''s attention. He studied Richard carefully. "Oh? Care to tell me who?"


    Despite his young age, Richard Maddox was already making waves in the scouting world. His reputation wasn''t fully established yet¡ªafter all, the players he had discovered were still proving themselves¡ªbut their performances had been promising.


    Richard met Docherty''s gaze and spoke the name with certainty.


    "Teddy Sheringham."


    "Yes, and¡ª" Richard stopped mid-sentence as his eyes landed on a tall, wiry figure with light brown hair and a self-assured presence.


    "Speak of the devil."


    It was Teddy Sheringham himself. He strode toward their table, his youthful face radiating curiosity.


    "Teddy?"


    "Yes, Coach Docherty?" Sheringham responded, glancing between them.


    "Aren''t you supposed to be in Sweden? Why are you here?" Docherty frowned.


    "Uh¡­ didn''t you tell me to come? The club paid for the ticket," Sheringham said, still confused.


    Oh, poor Sheringham. He couldn''t even tell the difference between a ticket given by the club and one arranged by a complete stranger.


    Four pairs of eyes immediately turned toward one person¡ªthe only person capable of orchestrating such a "coincidence."


    Richard coughed, ignoring their suspicious stares. "Well, since Teddy''s already here, let''s cut to the chase."


    With an expression completely devoid of guilt, Richard ignored their suspicious looks and began explaining all the research he had gathered over the last few months.


    Sheringham and Cascarino¡ªa classic strike partnership of power and intelligence. Cascarino, the towering target man, thrived in aerial battles, holding up play and bullying defenders. Sheringham, the sharp-minded forward, had the movement and vision to exploit space, create chances, and finish them off just as effectively.


    "Coach Docherty," Richard said, leaning forward, "with all due respect, I can tell you this¡ªif you pair these two together, you''ll have a partnership that covers everything. One with raw finishing ability, the other with intelligence and movement. They complement each other perfectly."


    Before Sheringham lost pace and stamina in later years, his best role was a deeper, more creative one¡ªan assist provider who could drop back, link up play, and pick out runs.


    His technical ability and upper-body strength made him excellent at holding up the ball, playing with his back to goal, and laying it off for teammates in dangerous positions.


    Cascarino, on the other hand, was the ideal target man¡ªa physical presence, dominant in the air, a nightmare for defenders. His ability to win headers and challenge for long balls made him a constant threat, especially during set pieces and crosses.


    Richard turned to Sheringham and Cascarino. "You two¡ªimagine having a strike partner who battles defenders, wins headers, and knocks the ball perfectly into your path. A partner who complements your strengths and covers your weaknesses."


    Then, he locked eyes with Docherty. "And Coach, imagine an attack where defenders can''t sit deep and wait. With a target man like Cascarino up front, Sheringham will get more space to operate. Defenders won''t know whether to mark tight or drop off. It''s the kind of duo that forces teams to adjust their entire defensive setup."


    Docherty leaned back, deep in thought. Even Sheringham looked intrigued, picturing himself in the role Richard had just described.


    What shocked Coach Docherty the most was the sheer lengths Richard Maddox was willing to go to fight for Teddy. He even paid for his ticket.


    Richard knew he had their attention. Now, all he needed was for them to take the leap.


    "Teddy, my name is Richard Maddox. Today, I''m here as Tony''s agent, representing him." Richard leaned in slightly. "You know what a football agent does, right?"


    "Yeah, I kno¡ª"


    "I guess you don''t," Richard cut in before Sheringham could finish. "Let me explain."


    Before Teddy could object, Richard laid out exactly what he could offer¡ªand what Sheringham stood to gain by choosing him as his agent.


    "First, contract negotiation. I''ll secure the best wages, bonuses, and contract terms for you. I''ll handle transfer fees, clauses¡ªeverything."


    "Second, no need to split your focus on anything outside the pitch. Housing, visas, schooling, personal matters¡ªeven your earning potential outside of football¡ªI''ll take care of it all."


    In other words, I''m your negotiator, financial advisor, PR manager, and strategist all in one. You focus on football, and I''ll handle everything else¡ªincluding preparing you for life after football.


    "Deal?" S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 32 - 32: Case Study: Agent and Ownership

    During the pre-Bosman era, football transfers were heavily controlled by clubs.


    Players were tied to their contracts, and clubs had significant power over transfers, meaning the selling club determined the transfer fee, which was then negotiated with the buying club.


    There was no licensing system or registration scheme, which meant that anyone could become an agent. This was supported by the fact that many non-agents still assisted clubs and players with transfers.


    Clubs could, for example pay people who were not registered as agents, such as scouts or other types of consultants, making the role of the "agent" unclear.


    Long before he decided to become an agent, Richard had already conducted thorough research on every scenario and potential threats that could bite him in the future.


    According to FIFA''s calculations, in Europe, between 89% and 96% of all transfers worldwide were carried out by non-licensed agents acting as intermediaries, most of whom were family members of the players.


    In England, for example, it was no longer a secret that players had restricted mobility under the transfer system. Even after their contracts expired, they could not move freely unless the club agreed to sell or release them. In some cases, players were forced to stay at clubs against their wishes.


    Jean-Marc Bosman was trapped in this scenario, and it made Richard think long and hard. He didn''t want to end up like him when FIFA began tightening regulations around football management.


    In 1980s, FIFA''s regulations did not explicitly prohibit an individual from simultaneously owning a football club and acting as a player''s agent. However, just because it was allowed now didn''t mean it would be allowed in the future.


    This policy is designed to maintain the integrity of the sport by avoiding potential conflicts of interest. A football agent who is also an owner or significant shareholder might influence player negotiations for their own personal or financial gain.


    So, how could he become both an agent and a club owner at the same time?


    The answer is: he couldn''t.


    It was impossible.


    The first case that came to Richard''s mind was the famous European case of Gigi Becali, where his dual role was deemed problematic. It led to accusations of financial corruption, biased decision-making, and conflicts of interest that benefited him as an agent.


    Eventually, FIFA''s crackdown on this issue raised red flags for him and his club, causing significant turmoil. Becali faced legal challenges, was convicted of corruption, and sentenced to prison.


    This happened from 2003 to 2011, which shows how determined FIFA is when they set their sights on you.


    Can Richard guarantee that they won''t place their eye on him when his player portfolio value is simply too absurd?


    This eventually raised another concern for him: What if all the players he believes will become superstars in the future end up joining him?


    Wouldn''t his valuable knowledge about their potential eventually backfire on him?


    Can he be certain that his fate won''t mirror Becali''s?


    No one can guarantee that. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Truth be told, he believed his conflict with City board could work in his favor. While he was a major shareholder, he didn''t directly involve himself in the day-to-day operations of the club, which technically didn''t breach the regulations governing club officials and agents.


    But in the future? What happens if the big six decide to pursue him, with FIFA and the FA joining forces? Just like how they pressured Sheikh Mansour''s City for breaching FFP.


    Once again, no one can guarantee that.


    So, can he become an agent while being a major shareholder of City?


    Yes, but it was risky and came with a deadline, forcing him to eventually let go of his status as an agent.


    To be exact, a year from now, when the Bosman case goes public, it will take at least five years for the case to close and for player free agency to become part of FIFA''s transfer rules, which means his time to become an agent can only last for six more years.


    Let''s narrow the case according to current situation.


    The second case: Richard vividly remembered one match that turned European football upside down, or it was Madridistas who turned social media upside down, demanding justice.


    It was the game between Osasuna and Real Madrid.


    During the match, a Spanish referee¡ªwhose name he couldn''t recall¡ªsent off Real Madrid star Bellingham for a remark the Englishman made.


    Following the incident, suspicions arose that the referee might have had professional connections with a consulting and sports management company based in Spain.


    "Hmm," Richard reflected quietly, as he circled the words ''professional connection'' with the pen he was holding, using them as a keyword.


    "Professional connection" here meant that the sports management company was neither owned by him nor by any of his family members.


    What did Richard find here?


    Richard, his aspiration is simple.


    He would become a football agent first. Then, if the regulations became stricter, he would hand it over to his brother, allowing him to step back but still retain some influence in it.


    As for his brother''s dream of owning a supermarket, becoming an agent doesn''t stop you from owning one, right?


    However, when he remembered the incident regarding the referee, his hopes were dashed. Not even family members¡ªjust having a professional connection¡ªcould cause such a stir. So, you can imagine if he, as the owner of City, were involved in a scandal like this.


    Richard decisively crosses out his brother Harry''s name in the papers right in front of him.


    There''s a reason why, despite Manchester City''s success in the modern football era, they can''t rival Manchester United in terms of popularity.


    They''ve bought their success, 115 alleged breaches, oil money, Abu Dhabi money, you name it. If he could summarize it in two words, it would be: financial hypocrisy.


    You could say it like this: City spent the past three decades complaining about the money Manchester United spent and the glory hunters that followed. Now, they''ve become everything they once hated.


    This is what worried Richard the most. He couldn''t let City under him become a club that was never taken seriously, despite its success.


    After scribbling and scratching furiously, no matter how much he racked his brain, he couldn''t come up with a legal reason to retain his dual role in the years to come.


    Law wasn''t his forte, so couldn''t he hire a specialist to handle this?


    Of course, he could. And this is why Richard finally dared to accept the dual role.


    It was 10 in the morning, and Richard had already arrived at Essex Street, standing in front of Blackstone House, the office of Blackstone Chambers.


    With a deep breath, he walked up the steps, ready to face the challenge that awaited him inside.


    Richard had an appointment with a barrister named Adam Lewis, who would later become known as The Premier League''s go-to lawyer, and coincidentally, also represented Manchester City''s FFP violation cases.


    ''Hmm, if I could build rapport and have him join my side...'' Richard licked his lips.


    The discussion with Lewis and his team lasted for six hours, and Richard could only sit obediently, struggling to keep his eyes open as fatigue took over.


    ''Academia is definitely not for me,'' he muttered with a wry smile.


    The pay was definitely good, but he couldn''t stand the situation. He thought he could learn just by listening, but after twenty minutes, he had already gone through six cups of black coffee. If caffeine could fix confusion, he''d be a genius by now.


    Blackstone charged him ¡ê1,000 per hour, and now it had been a six-hour discussion.


    To make it clear, this was their fourth meeting, which meant, mathematically, he had already spent ¡ê24,000¡ªjust to listen to these barristers perform a group project, but with fancier clothes.


    Thankfully, the recommendation was delivered in that same meeting.


    First, he could collaborate or invest through third-party entities or external agencies. He could fund or support agents who work with or under him, using his resources to benefit both the players and the club, all while maintaining compliance with the licensing restrictions."


    Richard rejected it immediately. This is similar to the case with the Spanish referee.


    Second, he could build his own agency but completely delegate the direct agent roles to trusted associates or employees. This would mean he controls behind the scenes but is not involved upfront, thus allowing him to sidestep the restriction of being a licensed football agent himself.


    Richard still rejected it. Becali''s fate had already served as an example of what could happen.


    Third, is to change Manchester City''s model from private ownership to an association.


    This would essentially adopt a system similar to the socios model used by Barcelona, Real Madrid, Athletic Bilbao, CA Osasuna. In this system, members who purchase an annual membership are granted the right to vote at the club''s general meetings with a single, personal, and non-transferable vote.


    In Richard''s case, the only drawback is that he could own a percentage of Manchester City shares; however, there is a threshold where he could only hold a basic membership, entitling him to vote at the general meeting. Moreover, he would need to work his ass off to make this system work from scratch.


    Richard decisively rejects it.


    ''Holy cow, it''s hard enough trying to fully control City, but in the end, my vote wouldn''t be 100%. What''s the point?''


    At times like this, Richard began to regret not taking over Watford directly. Sigh, if only he had gotten the information sooner, he would have acted right away. But then he slapped his cheeks.


    He admitted that it was his fault for missing such an opportunity, but did he regret it?


    No, he never did.


    In fact, he had already envisioned a time when he could leverage the popularity of United to boost and build City''s own local pride.


    Regardless of United''s success, if City could trample them for decades without winning, he believed Manchester could turn blue.


    Of course, this was under the condition that there was no oil money behind it. The rivalry could serve as motivation to support the team and help it become stronger.


    "Let''s do it," he cheered himself.


    After back-and-forth discussions and brainstorming, the best option was found in the ninth meeting.


    Richard was exhausted but happy with the result. Third-Party Ownership (TPO) is the solution.


    There is a reason why Richard directly bought Tony Cascarino''s contract for ¡ê25,000 from Gillingham. It''s to test the waters based on how Lewis and his team taught him.


    Contract buyouts allow players to terminate their contracts early by paying a predetermined amount, usually specified in the player''s contract as a ''buyout clause'' or ''release clause.''


    ''Buyout clause'' or ''release clause'' is definitely modern football jargon.


    In the context of the 1980s, it can be simply said that as long as he was willing to pay the amount agreed upon, he could essentially negotiate the release of the player.


    Since then, the buyout clause has become Richard''s style in becoming an agent.


    The loophole is like this:


    Richard buys shares in the economic rights of young players and often covers the costs of their training and accommodation. In return, he is entitled to a percentage of the player''s future transfer fee.


    In legal terms, it is explained how third-party owners may either purchase a percentage of a player''s "economic rights" from the club or even purchase a player''s contract. At that point, the player is sold to another club, and the agent earns a percentage of the transfer fees.


    And in Richard''s terms, owning the contract allows him, as the third-party owner, to increase his own profits by "parking a player" at a club temporarily until the player''s value appreciates.


    The famous case that brought this ownership model into the public eye and sparked heavy criticism occurred in 2006 when Carlos Tevez and Javier Mascherano moved to West Ham United.


    However, their economic rights were owned by a company called Media Sports Investment (MSI), led by Iranian businessman Kia Joorabchian. This arrangement allowed MSI to receive a portion of the players'' transfer fees and wages


    Sensitive to an issue that may arise later, Richard definitely avoided the word ''wages,'' but when it comes to transfer fees, could he later mark them up just like Mino Raiola marked up Pogba''s fees to United?


    The key to this kind of scheme lies in building strong rapport with the players, but for Richard, that was never a problem.


    In fact, he confidently believed that out of all the agents in the world, he was the only one who could pull this off flawlessly.


    It was unclear what different roles the agents had in connection with a transfer in the current era, as they could act as representatives of both clubs and players, and switch sides from one transfer to another. This meant they could turn their back on a player and act for their own benefit.


    Only super agents like Eric Hall, Jonathan Barnett, or Pini Zahavi, who had the ability to build a strong reputation, could likely become his competitor in this case. So, isn''t becoming an agent the best choice for him now?


    After all, who else would be willing to provide a player with a house, cover transportation and living expenses, and even manage their schooling and family needs?

 Chapter 33 - 33: Matured Overnight

    Back to Sheringham and Cascarino scene


    This was exactly why, when Richard made his declaration, it wasn''t just Sheringham who was left speechless¡ªeven Coach Doherty nearly choked on his own spit.


    This was absurd. Was he an agent or a full-time dad? Why was he meddling in a player''s school affairs like a worried parent at a PTA meeting?


    "You can ask Tony here," Richard said, crossing his arms. "Did he ever have to spend a single penny while he was with me here?"


    Tony Goal¡ªstill better known as Tony Cascarino¡ªlet out a long sigh, looking like a man resigned to fate. He nodded and, with a deadpan expression, began recounting his experience under Richard''s ''care.''


    Indeed, food, housing, clothing¡ªRichard covered it all. If he could have, the man probably would''ve done his laundry too. Sometimes, he even wondered¡ªwas Richard really an agent, or was he secretly running an orphanage for lost footballers?


    Coach Doherty was skeptical. Was this even profitable? He was basically burning money every day just to cover the players'' needs.


    Sheringham, still young and entirely focused on his football career, had never given it much thought.


    As long as his career stayed on the right path, money wasn''t his concern. But when Coach Doherty raised the question, even he began to wonder and turned to Richard for answers.


    Richard, unfazed, flicked his wrist dismissively. "Look, I''m a football agent. I invest in players. If they succeed, I succeed. I don''t accept failure. That''s why I choose my players carefully and take care of them the best I can. I want them to win leagues, earn personal medals, and build a name for themselves. That''s all I care about."


    He trailed off for a moment, then relaxed his shoulders, as if this was a question he had answered a hundred times before. "And as for money¡­ isn''t that what commissions and negotiation fees are for?"


    "I know, I know." Coach Doherty hesitated, knowing the next part might come off as a little disrespectful, but as a manager, he needed to ask.


    He weighed his words carefully before speaking. "If you''re only relying on the transfer market, that means you only get paid when the transfer window opens. But in the meantime, you''re spending money left and right. If you keep this up, won''t you go bankrupt before you even see a return?"


    No, no¡ªthat wasn''t the real question. The most pressing question was where he got all this money from. From what he read, Richard came from a working-class family.


    So yeah, no massive inheritance, no family fortune backing him. So where was all this money coming from?


    Richard was sharp to begin with. After going back and forth with questions and answers, he finally understood the essence of Coach Doherty''s question¡ªand he burst out laughing.


    Indeed, for people in the present day, if they looked at what he was doing, they would probably think he was insane¡ªspending money like water. But Richard knew exactly what he was doing.


    He understood that before the Bosman ruling and before transfer fees skyrocketed to absurd levels, the smartest move was to build strong relationships with as many top players as possible.


    Of course, his money wasn''t unlimited. But even so, he wasn''t just throwing it around blindly.


    He had already spent ¡ê1,211,250 to acquire 8.77% of Manchester City''s shares. On top of that, his starter fund as an agent was quickly draining, depleting his resources rapidly until only around ¡ê900,000 remained¡ªand that wasn''t even counting his family expenses, other investments, and additional costs.


    Thankfully, before the season started, the UEFA Euro 1988 was approaching.


    With the promise of the agreement he had made with William Hall, he had a chance to at least recharge his accounts before the new season began.


    It didn''t take long for him to reach out to Fay, his personal manager.


    The moment Fay heard what his bet was, his eyes gleamed with excitement.


    The first bet was on the England vs. Republic of Ireland.


    Richard, a proud Englishman and former footballer, went against the tide and bet on the debutant Republic of Ireland instead¡ªa decision that left people stunned and set the media buzzing.


    People were shocked¡ªthen angry. Some mocked him, while others outright bashed him on live television. Football pundits tore into him, calling his bet reckless, unpatriotic, and even disrespectful.


    The backlash didn''t stop there. It spread beyond just the media frenzy, seeping into his personal life in ways he never could have foreseen.


    His father and brother were fired.


    All because of his bet.


    When Richard heard the news, he was stunned.


    Fired?


    It sounded absurd, yet it was happening¡ªbecause of his own choices. Because of him.


    The sudden news hit like a freight train.


    Of course, the official reasons for their dismissal weren''t directly tied to the Euro match, but finding a reason was as easy as flipping a coin. Out of all the possible justifications, Richard could see the real connection.


    For the first time since his injury, he truly felt the weight of his actions stretching beyond himself. Public perception alone could ruin a person''s life¡ªthat was the brutal lesson he learned that day.


    Until now, with his knowledge of how the future would unfold, everything had gone smoothly¡ªalmost too smoothly. It made him forget just how ruthless the world could be.


    He had been too confident, even cocky, thinking he could handle anything. But this? This had nothing to do with him directly, yet one decision had managed to upend his family''s livelihood.


    That night, as he sat alone, he found himself unable to sleep. Even though his father and brother assured him they could find other jobs, he could feel their humiliation¡ªthe disappointment they tried to hide.


    All of it aged him overnight. He would certainly never forget it.


    Richard disappeared from the public eye.


    He didn''t bother showing up at the watch party in William Hall''s lounge, nor did he step outside his home.


    With football hooliganism at its peak in the 1980s, he didn''t dare to take any chances. Neither did his family. The three-day period was arguably the most miserable for the Maddox family


    If the Republic of Ireland won, their family could make an excuse, as people needed to channel their anger elsewhere. But if England won, their fate would be sealed.


    When the match was about to begin, all the family members gathered, even Anna. His mother, who wasn''t particularly fond of watching football, had a sour expression as she watched the entire 90 minutes of the match.


    It soon became one of the biggest shocks in EURO history.


    No one expected The Three Lions to suffer such an unexpected defeat in their opening match against tournament debutant Ireland.


    0-1.


    There was chaos, but after all this, it was still the opening match, so the chaos wasn''t too severe and could still be stopped.


    With this result, Richard managed to turn his ¡ê25,000 into ¡ê150,000, with odds as high as 1:6.


    He exhaled in relief as the result was exactly as he had predicted.


    The second bet was on the England vs. Netherlands.


    Richard didn''t bother to attend in person. Instead, he left everything to his personal manager, Fay.


    He went all in with odds of 1:1, successfully turning his ¡ê150,000 into ¡ê300,000.


    The third bet, however, was on the England vs. Soviet Union.


    "Are you sure about this?"


    On the call, Fay hurriedly asked for confirmation. Richard could even hear his heavy breathing on the other end of the line.


    "Yes, do it."


    Richard was angry.


    He was furious.


    Angry at the unreasonable England Loyalists who had treated his family with hostility. Furious at how they had intertwined personal lives with football!


    Even if he understood their reasoning, his anger still burned. So, he went all in¡ª¡ê300,000 on the Soviet Union.


    He wanted revenge.


    With his approval and direction, Fay immediately launched an aggressive marketing campaign, using Richard''s name as bait.


    The Sun: "¡ê300,000 Against the Three Lions ¨C One Man''s Gamble or Pure Treason?"


    Mirror Sport: "A War of Wagers! Pure Madness!"


    The Daily Mail: "The Man Who Dares to Bet on England''s Defeat!"


    This was England''s last chance¡ªif they lost, the Three Lions would suffer an embarrassing exit with zero points. To spice things up, William Hall''s Islington branch received direct approval from higher-ups to increase the odds from 1:6 to 1:10.


    Unlike the World Cup, Euro wasn''t as globally massive, and betting companies usually placed strict limits on how high odds could go, especially on major matches.


    But this?


    This was no longer just football.


    They weren''t just setting odds anymore; they were manipulating the narrative, stoking the fire and daring the world to pick a side.


    To bet against England now wasn''t just a gamble¡ªit was a statement of defiance, a challenge to national pride.


    This was a statement.


    A test of loyalty. A challenge to every patriot who bled red and white.


    A war had broken out between public sentiment and raw statistics.


    The message was clear: If you stand with the Three Lions, place your bets! Prove your faith! S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The world seemed to turn upside down. It was as if everything had suddenly turned against him. The hostile environment forced Richard to relocate his family to safety.


    The locals were furious. They marched toward his house, ready to confront him, only to be met with a shocking sight¡ªa "For Sale" sign hanging in front of the Maddox family home.


    That''s when it hit them. The Maddox family had already escaped.


    People felt betrayed. Even though they couldn''t confront Richard directly, there was still another battlefield¡ªthe media.


    Every opportunist looking to boost their status through the Three Lions turned their attention to him, using his name as a target. On the streets, people gossiped about him, debated his choices, and cursed his name.


    They even dared to block the entrance to Maine Road Stadium, questioning every employee about their thoughts on Richard Maddox.


    The media swarmed like vultures, desperate for a headline, and with such massive exposure, the club''s board certainly wouldn''t let this opportunity go to waste.


    The Manchester City board wasted no time issuing a public statement, condemning Richard Maddox''s actions and distancing the club from his so-called betrayal.


    "Manchester City stands with England. Football is more than just a game¡ªit''s about loyalty, pride, and unity. Richard Maddox''s actions do not reflect the values of this club or the passion of its supporters."


    The speech was met with roaring applause. Fans, who had been simmering with anger, finally had an outlet for their frustration. The board members stood tall, their faces resolute.


    Then came the announcement that made headlines across the country.


    "After this tournament, Manchester City will buy back Richard Maddox''s shares. We refuse to let this club be associated with a man who turned his back on his country."


    The crowd erupted in cheers. The press hailed them as heroes, cleansing the club of a traitor.


    The war against Richard Maddox had just escalated to a whole new level.

 Chapter 34 - 34: The World vs Richard

    "There''s no way England will lose, right?" Harry, his brother, asked, his face pale. Even his grip on his teacup trembled.


    After all, the team they were facing was riddled with tension and political instability. The Soviet Union was still viewed as a major political and ideological rival to Western countries. The Cold War was ongoing, and the Western media often painted the USSR in a negative light.


    English football fans had always stood by their team, no matter what. And with Soviet football largely isolated, many England supporters knew little about players like Oleh Protasov or Rinat Dasayev¡ªwhereas names like Gary Lineker and Bryan Robson were household legends.


    Everyone felt confident in this judgment. Even though the Soviet Union''s last two matches had been impressive, the bias of patriotism and national pride had already seeped into their very bones.


    Right now, Richard and his family were gathered in front of the TV at JW Marriott Grosvenor House London.


    The room was heavy with tension¡ªnot just because of the match, but because of what had happened before they even got here.


    After Harry and his father were fired, they had been in complete shock. They weren''t troublemakers. They had always done their jobs diligently¡ªnever late, never slacking off, always staying longer when needed.


    So why?


    Why were they suddenly dismissed without warning?


    It was senseless. It was unfair.


    It was just a cold, impersonal letter informing them that their employment was "terminated effective immediately."


    When they had tried to protest, the manager had refused to speak to them. At the end of the day, it was the supervisor who gave them the hint.


    "It''s not personal. It''s just¡­ with everything going on, it''s for the best."


    And the reason their supervisor kept repeating only made them more confused about what was going on.


    And the worst part? There was no legal recourse. No appeal. No justice.


    Their jobs were gone. And now, all they could do was sit in this hotel room, waiting.


    "You know you''re gambling with our family''s name, right?" His father''s voice was heavy with concern. But what was done was done. There was no stopping it now.


    "Mom, Dad, Brother¡ªtrust me." Richard''s voice was firm. "This time, we''re leaving Islington together. We''re moving. I promise you¡ªwe''re going to be rich."


    Anna, his mother, opened her mouth as if to argue, but in the end, she let out a weary sigh. She wanted to scold him, to knock some sense into him, but a part of her hesitated¡ªshe couldn''t ignore Richard''s fragile health.


    In the end, all she could do was cast a fleeting glance at her husband and eldest son, as if silently blaming them for everything that had happened. But she had her own contingency plan.


    She had secretly withdrawn money from Richard''s bank account. If things went south, they wouldn''t be trapped. They could disappear into the countryside, far away from the madness.


    At least, that was what she told herself.


    After appeasing his family, Richard stepped out onto the balcony, letting the crisp night air wash over him.


    Below, the streets of Mayfair buzzed with life¡ªcars sped past, neon lights reflected off the polished exteriors of luxury boutiques, and people moved in elegant waves, lost in their own affairs. This place was home to aristocrats, powerful businessmen, and foreign investors.


    From his balcony, Richard took it all in. The grandeur, the wealth, the endless possibilities.


    This was where he belonged. Or at least, where he intended to belong.


    From this Euro, he had learned something. No more being looked down on. No more being cast aside. It was about carving out a future where the Maddox name commanded respect, not ridicule.


    His grip tightened around the balcony railing.


    Tomorrow, everything would change.


    BZZZTT¡ª


    His brick phone buzzed in his pocket. Richard pulled it out and pressed it to his ear.


    "Hello?"


    "Richard, it''s me¡ªFay."


    Oh, it''s the bookmaker¡ªhis dedicated personal manager.


    "Yeah, I know. What''s wrong?"


    "Nothing, really. Just wanted to let you know the situation here. It''s insane."


    Richard frowned. "What do you mean?"


    As Fay spoke, the picture became clear.


    Since people couldn''t confront him directly, they were trying to punish him through their wallets.


    The bookies had lost their minds.


    Even with the bookmaker increasing the odds to their maximum, it didn''t matter¡ªthey didn''t care at all. They were willing to throw money as if tomorrow didn''t exist, all for the chance to see England triumph and watch him crash and burn.


    Fools.


    Richard leaned against the balcony railing, his mind calculating every possibility.


    "Hmm¡­" He tapped his fingers idly. "What are the odds again?"


    "Uh? It''s 1:10 now¡ªEngland is expected to win comfortably,"


    Richard shook his head. Madness. Pure madness.


    But if people were so eager to set their money on fire, he''d be more than happy to collect the ashes.


    He turned, glancing back at the hotel room. His family sat stiffly in front of the TV, their faces tense as they waited for the match to begin.


    So be it.


    You all wanted a war?


    Then I''ll give you one.


    "Double it," Richard said suddenly.


    Fay''s voice sharpened. "What?"


    "You heard me. Double my bet. Take it from ¡ê300,000 to ¡ê600,000."


    "You''re joking, right? You do realize who you''re betting against? This isn''t some fairytale underdog story¡ªit''s England. England, Richard! The Three Lions!"


    Richard hummed. "That''s a good point."


    Fay exhaled in relief. "Good. At least you''re still thinking rationally¡ª"


    "Make it a million. Can you do that?"


    Silence.


    Then¡ª


    "WHAT?! YOU''RE INSANE!!!"


    "Now that I think about it, since when did you care about my well-being? You know the commission you''ll get from this million-pound bet, right?"


    "You¡ª" Fay began, but he stopped short. Even he couldn''t deny it. The commission alone was enough to make anyone think twice.


    "It''s settled then¡ª"


    "But I''m your personal manager," Fay muttered. "I should be advising you against reckless bets like this."


    Richard chuckled, but his heart warmed. It was rare for anyone to care about his decisions beyond personal gain. He appreciated the sentiment¡ªreally, he did¡ªbut his mind was already set.


    He still had ¡ê900,000 in cash, and with his ¡ê300,000 winnings from previous matches, he had ¡ê1,200,000 in total. Even if the future changed due to the butterfly effect, he believed his cash in hand would give him enough leverage to turn things around. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    And if the Soviet Union won?


    Well, the payout would be astronomical.


    The tension in the Maddox family reached its peak as the referee blew the whistle, signaling the start of the match.


    Richard remained by the balcony for a moment, gripping the railing as he listened to the muffled roar of the stadium through the TV speakers.


    His father sat stiffly on the couch, arms crossed, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.


    His mother, usually calm, fidgeted with the hem of her blouse. Sometimes, her hands clasped together as if in prayer.


    His brother, every now and then, took small, nervous sips of his tea, unable to sit still. He kept pacing back and forth, his anxiety growing with every second.


    England, led by star players like Tony Adams, Kenny Sansom, Bryan Robson, Glenn Hoddle, John Barnes, and Gary Lineker, was a team stacked with talent. And with everything on the line in this do-or-die match, everyone knew they would give nothing less than 120%.


    Then, disaster struck.


    The match had barely begun¡ªjust three minutes in¡ªwhen England suffered an early setback.


    First Goal : England 0 - 1 USSR


    England had barely found their rhythm when a costly mistake handed the Soviet Union the lead.


    Glenn Hoddle, one of England''s key playmakers, was caught off guard in midfield, dispossessed far too easily.


    Aleksandr Zavarov wasted no time, threading a precise pass to Sergey Aleynikov.


    The Soviet midfielder surged forward, cutting through England''s defense with a sharp turn before firing a clinical shot past Chris Woods.


    The England goalkeeper barely had time to react.


    Gasps filled the hotel room. But it wasn''t just them¡ªshouts of frustration and disbelief echoed from the neighboring rooms.


    Out on the balcony, Richard clenched his fists. Then, with a deep breath, he forced himself to relax. It was still early. 86 minutes remained. No need to celebrate yet.


    "It''s too soon to panic," he muttered, as if convincing himself.


    And sure enough, England was already pushing back.


    Second Goal : England 1 - 1 USSR


    England needed a response, and they wasted no time mounting the pressure.


    Sixteen minutes in, they won a free-kick in a dangerous position. Glenn Hoddle, eager to redeem himself, stepped up. His delivery was inch-perfect¡ªwhipped in with pace and precision.


    Tony Adams rose highest, his towering frame commanding the penalty area. He met the cross with a bullet header, thundering the ball past the Soviet goalkeeper.


    GOAL!


    The hotel erupted.


    "Come on! That''s more like it!"


    "Yeah, that''s it! Teach them a lesson!"


    "Haha! Someone must be miserable right now, huh?"


    "Hahahaha, you''re right."


    Richard smirked. He didn''t need to guess who they were mocking.


    Both teams pushed forward relentlessly.


    The tension on the pitch was mirrored in the Maddox''s hotel room. Then, the woodwork came into play.


    Trevor Steven came agonizingly close for England, his strike beating the keeper but rattling off the post.


    Moments later, Oleh Protasov had a chance at the other end. His curling effort looked destined for the net, only for it to be denied by the crossbar.


    "Goddamn it!" Richard''s brother groaned, gripping his head.


    But then came the turning point.


    With England desperately chasing the game, their defense began to stretch thin. The Soviets seized the opportunity.


    Ihor Belanov whipped in a dangerous cross into the box, and Mykhailichenko made a perfectly timed run, slipping between England''s defenders. His header was unstoppable.


    In an instant, the atmosphere on their hotel floor fell completely silent.


    Third Goal : England 1 - 2 USSR


    But the worst was yet to come.


    As England pushed forward recklessly, gaps began to appear at the back. The Soviets took full advantage¡ªPavel Pasulko pounced on a loose ball inside the box and fired it home from close range.


    England was finished.


    "F*CK, I''M RICH¡ª"


    Richard barely got the words out before Harry, eyes wild with panic, lunged at him. In a split second, he clamped a hand over his mouth, silencing him.


    Not here. Not now. If they found out he was here¡­


    The final whistle blew, sealing England''s miserable exit from the tournament.


    Pasulko''s goal made it three, capping off a disastrous campaign for England while sending the USSR into the semi-finals in high spirits.


    Full-Time: England 1 - 3 USSR


    The JW Marriott hotel was in chaos, turned upside down by the stunned reactions of its guests.


    Richard and Harry suddenly grabbed each other in pure euphoria, their faces contorted with barely contained excitement. Their mouths stretched into wide, toothy grins, their fists pumped furiously in the air¡ªbut not a single sound came out.


    It was the most silent celebration in human history.


    "WE REALLY FUC¡ª"


    Then¡ª


    PLOP.


    For a moment, silence filled the room.


    Anna Maddox sank to her knees with all the grace of someone who had just survived an emotional rollercoaster. She folded her hands, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.


    "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit¡­ Amen."


    Harry and Richard exchanged looks before also making the sign of the cross. "Amen."


    Then Harry, under his breath: "Holy sht, that was close."*


    Meanwhile, Bryan Maddox simply watched from his chair, his face unreadable. On the outside, he was calm. But inside? He was a mess.


    Kicked out with a pathetic zero points. It was a disaster of biblical proportions. His beloved national team had gone home in disgrace. He slowly rubbed his temples, letting out a deep sigh.


    Thankfully, with this win, it could be said his family was safe in the end.


    Maybe he should start praying too.

 Chapter 35 - 35: Day One With Pundit Richard

    Sporting success or failure is often a matter of perspective. One person''s collapse can be another''s triumph, and these boundaries shift over time.


    England lost every game in the 1988 European Championship¡ªa clear failure. But that''s only part of the story. As always, context is everything.


    The bookies had been swayed by emotional betting and the lingering sense of injustice from England''s exit in Mexico ''86.


    The press agreed, with several newspapers tipping England not only to advance from the group but to win it all. Pundits were slightly more measured, but with Richard''s antagonism and betrayal, most felt England should comfortably sweep through until at least their match against the Netherlands.


    Two wins¡ªor a win and a draw¡ªwould have put them in a strong position to qualify for the semi-finals. But reality taught them a harsh lesson.


    "Playing against Ireland and the Soviet Union, teams stacked with players from the First Division, there was no fear of the unknown. They had completely underestimated the situation."


    Richard said, wearing a crisp navy suit, with a patterned tie¡ªbold but not garish¡ªresting neatly against his white shirt, the knot precise, as if tied with practiced ease.


    His black hair, slicked back with just the right amount of product, gleamed under the studio lights.


    The set hummed with the quiet energy of pre-broadcast preparations¡ªpapers shuffled, microphones adjusted. Richard was in his element.


    BBC and ITV.


    These two channels were central to the television football commentary scene in 1980s, with BBC dominating highlights and ITV offering live game coverage.


    It wasn''t something that could be hidden: the fact that Richard had made a bet. Football was all anyone in Britain could talk about. The excitement was palpable, and the stakes couldn''t have been higher.


    Rumors had circulated for weeks, but now it was confirmed.


    Word had spread quickly that Richard had wagered an enormous sum, something well beyond the normal reach of even the most committed bettors. It was said that the money he stood to gain from the bet amounted to ¡ê10,000,000¡ªa fortune that could change everything.


    With that revelation, his reputation was set ablaze. His football knowledge was still there, but now, he was applying it in a different arena¡ªplacing bets, off the pitch.


    Fans, bettors, bookmakers, other pundits, and even politicians, like those at the FA, were all tuning in. Everyone connected to the England national team was now watching the television, waiting for the analysis, predictions, and even his criticism¡ªif he had any.


    Program Title: Match of the Day: Euro 88 Special


    BBC''s Match of the Day was the leading football highlights show, with pundits such as Jimmy Hill, Alan Hansen, and Mark Lawrenson offering expert analysis on the top matches. This was the go-to show for English football commentary.


    (Cue BBC theme music as the show transitions back after a break)


    Alan Hansen (in his characteristic, calm voice): "Welcome back to Match of the Day, where we bring you the best from Euro 88. Now, let''s turn our attention to the England match¡ªit''s been a tough tournament so far, and there''s plenty to talk about..."


    (The show then cuts to highlights, showing key moments of the match with energetic crowd noises and iconic commentary, from John Motson or Barry Davies)


    (After the highlights reel, the camera cuts back to the studio)


    Mark Lawrenson (chiming in with his trademark dry wit):"Well, Alan, we saw plenty of effort there, but it''s not just about running around, is it? England really need to be more clinical in front of goal if they''re going to make it through."


    Jimmy Hill (adding his more tactical perspective):"Absolutely, Mark. What I noticed was the way England failed to press high enough on the opposition¡ªit''s something that''s going to be crucial if they''re going to get results in this tournament."


    Alan Hansen (nodding):"Right. And as we''ve seen, the real danger comes from not taking your chances. That''s where England will need to improve if they want to keep progressing."


    Mark Lawrenson (pointing out a crucial detail):"And don''t forget the defensive side of things. Even though England has been creating chances, they''ve been caught out on the counter a few times, and that''s something to be addressed before the next match."


    (After the match highlights and pundit discussion, the camera cuts to the studio, where the host introduces a special guest)


    Alan Hansen (smiling): "Now, we''ve got something a bit different for you tonight. We''re joined by Richard Maddox, the Fortune Maker, known for his uncanny predictions and sharp insight. Richard, welcome to Match of the Day."


    Richard never expected to be invited by the BBC.


    When Fay informed him that they had reached out for an interview, he was genuinely surprised. His first instinct was to decline, not wanting to stir up any more trouble, but after thinking it through, the offer was too significant to pass up.


    After several discussions with his family, Richard ultimately decided to go ahead with the interview. This was his chance to explain himself, to provide context for why he had lost faith in the Three Lions.


    It was an opportunity to set the record straight and show that, despite what others might think, he wasn''t the villain in this situation.


    Richard Maddox: "Thanks for having me, Alan. It''s great to be here." S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Alan Hansen (curious): "We''re glad to see you back in the world of English football, Richard. Before we dive into Euro 88, we''re all curious¡ªafter your retirement, it seemed like you were ready to return, but in a different role. What was going through your mind back then?"


    Richard Maddox (shrugging): "Well, I''m sure you''ve heard about it in the media. Yes, I did have a stint with Manchester City¡ªworked as a youth coach and scout for a while."


    Alan Hansen (leaning in, intrigued): "Any chance we''ll see you back in a bigger role? Maybe as a manager, or something along those lines?"


    Richard Maddox (shaking his head, refusing to comment): "I''m focused on enjoying life at the moment, but who knows what the future holds. For now, it feels great just to be back involved with football in any capacity.


    Alan Hansen (nodding thoughtfully): "I see. Well, let''s shift gears a bit. England''s performance at Euro 88 has been a hot topic, and we''ve heard a lot of noise recently, with some even claiming you made a fortune betting against England. What''s your take on their performance? What went wrong in your opinion?"


    Richard Maddox (straightening his back): "I''ve always been a realist. When you look at England''s squad and the way things were shaping up..." Richard paused.


    The camera light blinked red. The show was live. Richard could feel the weight of the moment. He knew the backlash would come, but he welcomed it.


    Richard Maddox (honestly): "Let''s stop pretending. This wasn''t bad luck. It wasn''t just a tough group. England were outclassed. Outthought. Outworked. And frankly, they got exactly what they deserved."


    Indeed, he had no interest in restraint. Leaning forward, he tapped the desk for emphasis.


    An uproar of shock rippled through the studio. Even the cameraman, who had been focused on the set, glanced toward the direction booth.


    The Executive Producer, momentarily taken aback, quickly waved his hand, signaling for the show to continue live.


    All seasoned pundits and host, were stunned. From his perspective, even before Euro 88 began, it was clear that England had no real chance.


    Alan Hansen (after a brief pause, trying to steer the conversation): "Well... you certainly don''t mince words. But looking at it from the inside, do you think there''s anything England could have done differently? Any changes that could''ve made a difference?"


    Richard Maddox (sighing, his tone softer): "Impossible. Even if you switch from a 4-5-1 to a 5-4-1, or even a 6-3-1, or 4-3-3, England had no chance. Even if Peter Beardsley hadn''t been injured, they still stood no chance from the beginning."


    He had truly not held back.


    Alan Hansen (nodding thoughtfully): "Well, that''s certainly a strong opinion, Richard. But let''s bring in Jimmy and Mark here. Jimmy, you''ve seen England go through their fair share of ups and downs over the years. What do you make of Richard''s assessment?"


    Jimmy Hill (shaking his head): "I can''t fully agree with some of what Richard''s saying. I think it''s a bit harsh to place the blame entirely on England. Yes, they were outclassed at times, but Euro was always going to be a tough tournament."


    Mark Lawrenson (leaning forward, joining in): "True. Football''s a game of moments, and sometimes those moments just don''t go your way. The opposition was excellent, and England didn''t get the breaks they needed."


    The atmosphere in the studio was thick with tension.


    Richard''s frankness seemed to be cutting through the usual calm demeanor that pundits always showed on TV. Now, everyone was focused on capturing the intensity of the conversation.


    Richard Maddox (sighing in resignation): "See? Even if it''s bad decisions, bad tactics, bad preparation¡ªin the end, they didn''t get enough breaks, whatever the excuse. What do you expect in a world-class tournament like Euro? A free pass? If you''re not executing at the highest level, you''re not going to beat the best. It''s as simple as that."


    Mark Lawrenson (frowning): "And what do you mean by bad decisions, bad tactics, bad preparation? Are you saying that Mr. Robson isn''t enough to take charge of the England national team?"


    A sense of discomfort crept in. People present could feel the intensity building, especially with Richard''s direct remarks challenging someone as respected as their current England manager.


    Jimmy Hill (interjecting, trying to ease the tension): "Mark, let''s not jump to conclusions. Richard''s point, I think, is about the collective issues. It''s not about Robson persona¡ª"


    Richard Maddox (waving his hand dismissively): "No, no, that''s okay. Let me explain. First, bad decisions. Let me be frank¡ªhas anyone here, or anyone at home, seen ITV''s The Big Match?"


    The Big Match was a British football television programme, aired on ITV between 1968 and 1992, with Elton Welsby as the main presenter, and Jim Rosenthal sometimes acting as a touchline reporter and interviewer.


    The studio fell into silence. What was he bringing up now?


    Richard Maddox (seriously): "Before the tournament started, instead of focusing on the job at hand, they had the audacity to invite Jim Rosenthal to film a documentary and pose in front of cameras. I mean, where did they get their confidence from?"


    Mark Lawrenson (still unconvinced): "But Richard, you can''t just blame that. We''ve done things like that plenty of times before. It''s not exactly a new approach, so I''m not sure your accusation is entirely relevant."


    Richard Maddox (throwing his hands up in frustration): "Look, being relaxed and confident is one thing, but overconfidence is another. You saw it, right? Kenny Sansom was asked to do impressions of Frank Spencer and Ronald Reagan. You saw it, didn''t you? And now I''m asking, where did this misplaced confidence come from? Are they underestimating the quality of this tournament, thinking Republic of Ireland and Soviet Union were just a side show?"


    Everyone was stunned into silence. However, Richard wasn''t done.


    He stood up, and walked towards the chalkboard.


    "Now, let''s delve into tactics," he said.

 Chapter 36 - 36: Day Two With Pundit Richard

    Richard Maddox (pointing to the problem): "For starters, they had no idea just how fired up Jack Charlton had his team to play against us. Did you see the match before it even began? When the squad arrived at the stadium, every single man, from the coach to the players'' entrance, was greeted with a standing ovation."


    They did not disappoint indeed. Their manager knew how important this was to the fans, who cheered rabidly, and he played into that energy to prime his players to feed off the crowd. He fed their egos!


    And look at what the British press wrote about them¡ªthe tournament''s no-hopers? Hah, they were written off by most as whipping boys. Richard picked up the chalk and began drawing a formation on the board, continuing to explain:


    "Tactically, the Irish found a simple but effective way to neutralize England''s midfield by having Frank Stapleton drop deep to provide an extra man. Their full-backs, Chris Hughton and Chris Morris, were well-protected by the tireless work of Ray Houghton and Tony Galvin, who shut down John Barnes and Chris Waddle at every turn."


    "Two layers of defense on the wings, and an extra body centrally to prevent Bryan Robson or Neil Webb from creating anything," Richard said, tapping the chalk sharply against the board. "England were in trouble."


    "Next," he continued, "it was our impersonator again. Kenny Sansom completely misjudged the bounce of a ball he should''ve cleared easily. Instead, he kicked it high and behind himself into danger. Tony Adams, bracing himself to head the ball clear, was unaware of Aldridge''s hunger to win it. He made no challenge, and boom¡ªgoal."


    Richard finished, dropping the chalk and clapping his hands together. "Any questions?"


    "..."


    The studio fell into stunned silence. His analysis had struck a chord.


    Tactically, there was no denying it.


    From that moment on, with the upset so early on, Ireland dug in and stuck to their game plan. England struggled to get a foothold, unable to break through.


    Richard Maddox (sitting back in his chair): "And lastly, it''s the preparation." S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After saying this, Richard remained silent for a moment, leaving everyone in the studio puzzled by his sudden pause. He was lost in thought, and the tension in the room was palpable.


    He said in serious tone, "It''s not personal against Mr. Robson. He''s a respected manager, but when you have players underperforming and not executing the game plan consistently, it''s not just bad luck. It simply means they don''t have the capacity to represent England on the highest stage."


    The room went quiet, everyone processing his words.


    Then, Jimmy Hill (interjecting, with curiosity): "Richard, do you believe there are any players in the squad who simply don''t belong in the national team?"


    The question hung in the air like a challenge, almost baiting Richard into another confrontation. But Richard didn''t flinch.


    Richard Maddox (without hesitation): "If the shoe fits, Jimmy. But let''s be honest here¡ªhalf of the squad, if I were the manager, I wouldn''t even call them up."


    A heavy silence enveloped the room.


    This...this...


    Before anyone could respond, Richard continued, "Beardsley''s listlessness in front of goal, just like Barnes. Both of them had just completed an exhausting year with Liverpool. They''d played 96 games last season. They were both in dire need of a break. And then there''s Waddle, who came into the Euros after a tough year. But I''m not going to comment on that, as it''s personal."


    As soon as he mentioned "personal," the room seemed to understand. People began to realize what he was hinting at.


    Waddle''s situation¡ªit was well known in the circles that, after undergoing a hernia operation with his club''s medical team, he had neglected his recovery. He was even spotted sneaking out of the hospital to visit Madame Tussauds, something that raised eyebrows.


    It wasn''t until club manager Terry Venables surprised him in a pub for an impromptu progress check that Waddle finally took his recovery seriously. By the time he returned in April, technically fit, he was still nowhere near his best, struggling to regain his once electrifying pace.


    Mark Hateley, Trevor Steven, and Lineker had also suffered minor injuries in one of the two unofficial games organized by Robson, resulting from knocks and injuries caused by hard tackles on a less-than-ideal pitch.


    Mark Lawrenson (brow furrowed in disagreement): "So, you''re suggesting we just drop them because they''re not at their peak? It''s not as simple as you''re making it sound. For the national team, we need the best players, not just the ones who are fit on paper."


    Richard clicked his tongue. There''s Matt Le Tissier, Teddy Sheringham, Les Ferdinand, Ian Wright, and not to mention Graeme Le Saux. So much talent, but it''s being wasted.


    Richard Maddox (clearly clarifying): "And that''s the role of Mr. Robson as the national team manager. I''m not bringing up injuries, but if the players aren''t physically or mentally prepared to compete at that level, he should know better than anyone. What I''m saying is, why is he only looking at the same players over and over again?"


    England had regressed, struggled with injury, and Bobby Robson had trusted players he might have been better questioning. It suddenly looked like it would take a miracle for them to get anything from a world-class competition like the Euros.


    On top of the obvious issues, there were several unquantifiable factors.


    Kenny Sansom, once England''s Mr. Reliable on the left, was approaching 30 and suddenly looked vulnerable, destined to lose one-on-ones against anyone with pace. Hoddle, supremely talented but only in games designed for him to thrive, now seemed markedly slower and was on the wrong side of 30.


    Then there was the spine. No one in his position looked like they were on the same level as Terry Butcher.


    The decision to field 24-year-old Wright and 21-year-old Adams against Ireland was a mistake, especially against players as streetwise as Aldridge and Stapleton.


    The debate continued until Richard brought up the USSR, or known as Soviet Union.


    The humiliation against Ireland was compounded further by the USSR''s 1-3 loss that evening, making it mathematically impossible for England to advance.


    Richard could already see things unfolding further.


    In a bid to shake things up, Mr. Robson made changes to the side for the final game¡ªa dead rubber against the Soviets. Almost inconceivably, despite urging them to play for pride due to their poor results, things only got worse, and England suffered yet another chastening defeat.


    Like so many England managers before him, Mr. Robson relied too much on established players and refused to take risks.


    They played it safe.


    1988 had proven them all to be smoke and mirrors.


    With Terry Butcher missing, several carrying injuries big or small, Barnes and Beardsley out on their feet and Waddle struggling, the last thing they needed was Lineker to be in anything less than top gear.


    This is where Richard aimed his criticism the most¡ªnot at the players or Mr. Robson, but at the whole situation, where players had no choice but to answer the national team''s call, regardless of their physical condition.


    Richard''s Maddox (intense): "This is what disgusts me the most. Don''t any of you see how badly Lineker is playing?"


    Despite coming into the tournament on the back of another 20-goal season in Spain, Lineker had struggled terribly. His lack of sharpness was already evident in the Republic of Ireland match, and it only worsened in the subsequent games.


    Richard Maddox (his tone serious and urgent): "Mr. Gary Lineker, I need to say something to you."


    People were shocked by the sudden mention of names. In sports journalism, it was a known taboo to call out someone by name and throw direct criticism their way.


    A slip-up could mean not just a disruption of the show, but also potential backlash from the public, sponsors, and the football community. The unspoken rules of decorum were often more important than the opinions being voiced.


    The two pundits and analysts were at a loss for words, momentarily stunned and slow to react. As for the host, Alan Hansen, he immediately sought guidance on what to do next.


    As a seasoned host, he certainly knew how to handle such situations, but he needed direction from behind the scenes before proceeding.


    The executive director had raised his hand, ready to intervene at the slightest hint that Richard might say something inappropriate. His fingers were already poised to signal for the broadcast to be cut if Richard crossed the line.


    Richard didn''t care at all. And what people never expected was what he said next.


    "Mr. Gary Lineker," Richard said, his voice dropping low, "if a player is not physically there, they shouldn''t be out on the pitch¡ªno matter what. I''m not talking about who''s better at football; everyone knows who''s better. What I''m saying is whether you should even be playing in the first place¡ª"


    ''What are you even saying? Are you really questioning Gary Lineker? Are you just cursing at him now?''


    CUT¡ª


    Alan Hansen (panicked, quickly trying to regain control): "Alright, Mr. Richard, that''s a tough lesson, and it''s clear we''ve got some different views on this one. Let''s leave it there."


    His tone rose with urgency as he shot a quick glance at the crew, who scrambled behind the scenes. With a nod from the executive producer, the cue for the closing shots was given, and Alan Hansen smoothly guided the show to its conclusion.


    "It''s a tough time for England, no doubt about it. Euro ''88 has been a wake-up call for the team, Bobby Robson, and the fans. Hopefully, they''ll take this lesson and move forward. But there''s still plenty of football to come. In just three days, we''ve got the semi-finals¡ªWest Germany vs. Netherlands and the Soviet Union vs. Italy. Big matches ahead. Thanks for tuning in, and we''ll see you next time."


    The camera zoomed out as Alan gave one last glance at the crew before the show smoothly transitioned to the closing credits.


    After the show concluded, the crew, who had been working behind the scenes, visibly relaxed. A few exchanged glances, wiped the sweat from their brows, and let out long, relieved sighs. It had been a close call, but they had managed to avoid a total disaster.


    As the studio lights dimmed and the crew began to pack up, a sense of exhaustion settled over everyone. Some of the pundits exchanged quiet words, trying to make sense of what had just transpired.


    "Mr. Richard, thanks for coming," Alan said, forcing a smile as he extended his hand to Richard.


    "Likewise, Alan," Richard replied, shaking his hand before moving on to Jimmy and Mark, who greeted him with a quick handshake, even if their body language clearly signaling that they wanted nothing more to do with him.


    ''This crazy person'' they seemed to think.


    Alan glanced toward the executive producer. "What about the producer?"


    "Ah, he''s still a bit busy," Alan hesitated, then couldn''t help but add, "Probably sorting through something."


    Managing egos, handling tough topics, and staying professional in a world where the line between commentary and controversy was razor-thin¡ª it''s difficult.


    What Richard had just done could end up making their show more controversial than they ever intended. And that was enough to give their competitors¡ªThe Sun¡ªa chance to exploit the chaos.


    Richard gave a nonchalant shrug, knowing that trying to explain would be pointless. They wouldn''t get it.

 Chapter 37 - 37: When Education Had a Price Tag, Not a Merit Bar

    The episode of becoming a one-day guest pundit was over, and with it came the inevitable backlash, greeting him once again.


    "Who is he? Does he really think he can compete with Gary Lineker?"


    "Haha, never mind heading the ball, he even headed the post, and now he thinks he can match Lineker''s record?"


    "Just because he won a bet, now he thinks he knows it all. Typical."


    As the media circus continued to build, Richard found himself back in the center of attention¡ªnot as swiftly and heavily as before, however.


    Thankfully, it was on him and not his family, but still, his father, mother, and brother were suddenly pulling him into the living room in the hotel and interrogating him.


    "Why did you say that? What were you thinking?" his father asked, his arms crossed as he paced a little. "You know the kind of attention you''re going to draw, right? You''ve just opened a whole new can of worms!"


    His brother, who had been sitting quietly, spoke up. "You''ve got to understand how these things play out. You''ve put yourself in the firing line once again, and it''s not going to be easy to get out of it. You think they''re going to let you off the hook after this?"


    Seeing how his husband and eldest son were pressuring him, his mother stepped in to save him. "Alright, stop it," she said, before patting his head worriedly. "Just stay at the hotel for a while. Maybe everything will move over if you don''t appear for a while."


    Richard groaned. He wanted to explain, but the right words just wouldn''t come. Honestly, he didn''t care all that much. The attention was split now¡ªhalf of it on him, the other half on the Three Lions.


    No, actually, that wasn''t quite right.


    What he''d said was true¡ªLineker''s performance in the Euros had been awful, and that was the reality. The problem was, no one dared to say it outright, only him. Probably now, the only ones targeting him were Lineker''s die-hard supporters.


    "Don''t worry, Mom, Dad, Brother. You''re all overreacting," Richard said helplessly, feeling that the situation had been blown out of proportion.


    The England party headed home, having wanted to leave since the moment the game against the Netherlands ended, or since the group stage concluded. However, they were not returning to any sort of peace.


    The players were under fire, the manager now persona non grata, the fans had done the inevitable, and the newspapers were in their element.


    Having built England up pre-tournament in a rare show of positivity, the tabloids took the loss to the Republic of Ireland exactly as you might have expected. By the time the final verdict came in, the anger had turned into a frenzy, and even the broadsheets were joining in.


    There were even rumors and photos circulating before they headed home, claiming Bryan Robson had allegedly punched Peter Shilton after an argument in the hotel bar. The pair quickly reconciled over breakfast the next morning, but this incident still left a stain on them.


    As people often said, "1987 had ended with so many reasons to be positive''; 1988 had proved them all to be smoke and mirrors."


    The Sun, Today and Star all lined up to join in kicking "England''s Bottlers". By the time of the game against the Dutch, the press had basically written off England and their manager regardless of result.


    The 3-1 defeat, and then the later Irish draw with the USSR, confirmed the exit and the vitriol could really start.


    "English football is draped in a black cloak" said the Times in a relatively mild report compared to the Daily Mail, who claimed it was "on the road to oblivion".


    The result gave a confirmatory nod for the coverage to not only continue, but to get personal.


    The Mirror decided to just outright ask who would now take the England job such was the damage done by Robson''s tenure: "Clough? No! Venables? No? Kendall? No! Howe? No! Sexton? No! Taylor? No! Wilkinson? No!"


    Their answer was to give Bryan Robson the job but, somewhat bizarrely, only after letting the current manager limp to the end of his contract to give the captain time to prepare.


    The Observer preferred to take the view that no single person was to blame; rather, everything had gone wrong, and blaming it all on the manager was misguided. This was why Richard said there was no need to worry about him.


    With all the frenzy and chaos of the British press and media, did he want to take part in this kind of circus?


    Ha, impossible. They didn''t have time for him!


    Still, to appease his family, Richard decided to wear a beanie, sunglasses, and a mask before stepping out of the hotel room.


    His mother even took extra care to check his outfit before he left, as though her attention to detail could somehow shield him from the growing storm.


    "Don''t take this off while you''re out," she insisted, her voice filled with worry.


    "Yes, Mom," Richard replied with a smile, kissing his mother on the cheek before heading out.


    "Just stay safe," she shouted after him as he entered the elevator and disappeared from sight.


    Once he left, she stood in the hallway for a moment before heading back.


    First, Richard dropped by the William Hall in Islington. When Fay saw him, he nearly spat out his tea in shock. He hurriedly ushered him towards the VIP room and quickly locked the door behind them.


    "Dang, this guy''s really asking for trouble," Fay muttered under his breath.


    Richard was there to make another bold bet¡ªthis time for the Soviet Union in the semi-finals. And their opponents?


    Italy.


    Fay was stunned, but also secretly elated. He had seen his fair share of eccentric bets, but this one was on another level.


    After a lengthy and tense discussion, they finally reached an agreement. Initially, the odds were set at a modest 1:5, heavily favoring Italy. But Richard wasn''t backing down. He laid his offer on the table.


    "I''m betting ten million pounds on a 2-0 Italy loss. Lock it in, and give me your best odds you''ve got,"


    ''Crazy guy!'' Fay thought, his mind racing.


    The negotiation continued, with Richard willing to let his name be used in marketing campaigns¡ªbut with one strict condition: any exclusive interviews must be turned down. No matter how big the media company, he would decline them all.


    Deal.


    The bet was locked in: Soviet Union vs. Italy, odds of 1:10, with two goals for the Soviet Union and no goals for Italy.


    With that settled, Richard left, and soon the news spread like wildfire.


    Fay went all in, pushing his limits to market the semi-finals. He even secured approval to set up a Betfair Exchange as quickly as possible, allowing people to bet directly against Richard, making the whole thing snowball into something even bigger.


    ¡ê10,000,000!!!


    The buzz around Richard''s high-stakes wager sent shockwaves through bookmakers, bettors, and media outlets alike. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Some speculated that Richard had insider information, while others believed it was all part of a larger strategy to disrupt the system.


    Yet, England loyalists¡ªtrue to form¡ªclung to the hope that this time they could exact some sort of revenge on the Soviet Union for knocking England out. Similarly, Lineker''s die-hard fans hoped to get back at Richard for his comments about their idol.


    "You''ve got to be kidding me," they muttered.


    ''Giuseppe Bergomi, Franco Baresi, Paolo Maldini, Fernando De Napoli, Carlo Ancelotti, Roberto Mancini, Gianluca Vialli¡ªand you think they could lose to someone like Oleh Protasov?''


    ''Well, let them be lost in their imagination for a while,'' Richard thought before pushing the taxi door open and stepping out.


    Before him stood ancient buildings with grand stone facades, ivy creeping up weathered walls, and towering spires that had witnessed centuries of scholars passing through¡ªthis was Oxford University.


    Beside him stood Harry Maddox, his brother, hesitating as he looked at the majestic Oxford buildings with uncertainty.


    This was exactly what their earlier discussion had been about¡ªHarry going back to university.


    Their parents had been nothing but supportive, with their mother, Anna, even handing over her ATM card so Harry could use it for his studies. But this time, Richard refused.


    You''ve got to be kidding me. With ¡ê1,900,000 in hand, he could easily send Harry to the best university in the UK. All he had to do was pick one. However, Richard knew better than to be reckless.


    Financially, he could afford any university, but academically? Harry would probably end up completely lost, drifting aimlessly with no real direction.


    Money could buy admission, but it couldn''t buy success. So, with no other choice, Richard decided to take advantage of the situation to make a breakthrough.


    There is a case where, later, an investigation would take place after a top-level inquiry was launched into allegations that one of its colleges was willing to sell degree course placements in exchange for large cash donations.


    Richard remembered it well because this scandal turned Britain upside down. A senior fellow of the college, who became a whistleblower, admitted that the college had made similar deals in the past because it was "poor as shit."


    Of course, the college denied the accusations, but everything spiraled out of control when one case came to light.


    The Chancellor championed the case of the rejection of one of the university''s talented students from its comprehensive school, only for that same student to later be accepted by Harvard instead.


    After this case surfaced, more scandals quickly followed, one after another.


    The most serious one involved two college staff members who allegedly admitted to accepting a large ¡ê300,000 donation and explicitly stated that the donor''s son''s application would be viewed "extremely favorably."


    This was exactly what Richard had been aiming for. The course had a quota, of course, but he believed his money could be used to apply pressure and create an extra spot for Harry.


    He might not necessarily be among the top applicants, but at the end of the day, his name would have to fit into Oxford.


    As for the later exposure? Richard had already thought it through.


    Richard Maddox''s name was already registered as one of the university''s most consistent donors¡ªnot the largest, but certainly a steady one. From modest donations of ¡ê1,000 to ¡ê3,000 and ¡ê4,000, he consistently contributed, until his most recent and largest donation of ¡ê15,000.


    Donations are processed and managed by the Gift Registry team in collaboration with the Development and Alumni Engagement office. In case something went awry early on, Richard had already made a special request to the team responsible for recording and acknowledging all philanthropic contributions to the university.


    [...Richard Maddox had retired early, but instead of enjoying a comfortable life, he struggled to find a new purpose. Job opportunities were scarce, and he soon realized a harsh reality¡ªwithout further education, securing a stable future was nearly impossible.


    This realization reshaped his perspective. He came to see education not just as a personal advantage but as a fundamental necessity for everyone, especially in Britain. Higher education should be accessible to all. Richard Maddox ¨C Former Footballer, Oxford Donor 1987...]


    The fact that Richard grew rich from betting is no secret, and in the UK, as long as you follow the rules, the money is legitimate. However, rather than indulging in luxury, he chose to channel his wealth into education, ensuring that others wouldn''t face the same barriers he had encountered.


    What began as a personal challenge soon evolved into a greater cause. His struggles and unwavering dedication earned deep admiration from staff, lecturers, and even Oxford''s higher-ups.


    With this, Richard believed that even if the scandal broke, his name would remain safe. Yes, there might be a few nuisances along the way, but he was confident he could still protect his reputation.


    So, in front of Harry''s confused and doubtful gaze, he saw Richard smiling amicably as he firmly shook hands with the Dean, the Chancellor, and a few other senior figures from the university.


    Not only that.


    The camera flashes followed. A photographer captured the moment as a large ceremonial check was presented, bearing the bold inscription:


    "Richard Maddox donates ¡ê100,000 to Oxford University."


    Beneath it, a statement read:


    "For the next five years, Richard Maddox pledges to donate ¡ê100,000 annually in continued support of academic excellence and opportunity."


    For him, this wasn''t just a simple handshake; it was a silent agreement, a transaction wrapped in prestige. ''I give you money, and you take care of my brother until he graduates. Deal?''

 Chapter 38 - 38: Shocking the Entire Nation

    UEFA Euro 1988 was truly a devastating experience for English football fans.


    This time, Richard didn''t hide. He took off his beanie, removed his black glasses and mask, and confidently made his way to the William Hall lounge. But this wasn''t the Islington branch; this time, he was heading to The Strand.


    Located near Covent Garden, one of the most iconic William Hall locations, this area was in the heart of Central London. It attracted a blend of tourists, theater-goers, and locals, making it a bustling and high-profile spot for betting shops.


    As a VIP member of William Hall, no matter which branch he visited, the perks were clear. But here, in the heart of Central London, Richard could finally feel safe.


    No violations, no wild rants, no fiery arguments. He could enjoy the experience in peace. If anyone wanted to get in his face here, they''d have to do it with a side of tea and polite apologies.


    He was surrounded by a much more dignified group¡ªpeople who had the subtlety to argue quietly over odds and strategy, their heated discussions framed in the most polite tones.


    "Well, I do believe Italy will win easily this time¡­ jolly good, right?" one man said, adjusting his monocle and taking a sip of his whiskey.


    "Ah, but you''re forgetting about the unpredictability of the Soviet side," another chimed in, stroking his well-groomed mustache. "They''ve been a force to be reckoned with."


    "Quite right," came the reply, before he raised his own glass and clinked it with his friend''s.


    Richard couldn''t help but smile.


    The USSR had begun nervously and the game was less than two minutes old when Kuznetsov, imperious at the heart of their defence throughout in West Germany, picked up a yellow card that would rule him out of any final.


    Still, the identity of the Netherlands'' opponents three days later remained hard to guess as the sides went in for half-time at 0-0.


    That was a positive portent for the unbeaten Azzurri, whose three group games had also been goalless at the interval ¨C yet it was the USSR that stepped it up.


    The breakthrough came on 58 minutes, when Kuznetsov advanced deep into Italy''s half before laying off for Mykhaylychenko.


    The midfielder scrambled the ball into Lytovchenko''s feet and although his initial shot was blocked he prodded in the rebound.


    "GOOOAAALLL!" The commentator''s voice blasted from the old television speaker, the sound crackling with the enthusiasm of a bygone era.


    Richard''s glass of orange juice trembled in his hand, the liquid swirling as the words hit him like a wave.


    Despite knowing the exact score¡ªhis calculations all but perfect, a 99% certainty in his mind¡ªthere was always that nagging 1%. The butterfly effect.


    The chaotic randomness of life that could still throw a wrench in even the most meticulously planned outcomes.


    It was a constant he prepared for, just in case something unexpected¡ªa surprise twist, a freak accident¡ªchanged everything.


    For a moment, the room fell silent. All eyes were glued to the screen, where the commentator''s excited voice continued to echo, almost in disbelief.


    The very same people who had been discussing the game with the calm precision of seasoned gamblers were now caught off guard, their glasses held halfway to their lips, their words stuck in their throats.


    "Italy has a change of heart. It''s Italy, after all," one man, still adjusting his mustache with a slightly trembling hand, let out a deep, rueful chuckle. He tried to mask the shock creeping up on him.


    Soon, more voices joined the quiet chorus, and though they spoke in whispers, the tension was unmistakable.


    "Seems like the Soviets are full of surprises, after all. Hah, haha!"


    "Yeah, Italy''s still not quite firing on all cylinders. Hahaha."


    The laughter was a bit too forced, like a cover-up for the unease hanging in the air. People slapped their hands on the armrests as if trying to shake off the weight of the moment, but the chuckles continued.


    Deep down, they were still trying to process the shock.


    Italy fought back, showing their resolve, in the 23rd minute, Gianluca Vialli had a golden opportunity. He squandered it, and the collective groan from the crowd in Islington echoed¡ªan "Ahhh!" of disappointment.


    It was one of those moments when hope felt so close, only to be ripped away.


    And finally.


    Olexandr Zavarov, ever the danger on the left flank, weaved past defenders with his characteristic speed. With a deft touch, he squared the ball to Oleh Protasov, using the outside of his right boot.


    Protasov needed no invitation. He latched onto the pass and slotted the ball home, sending the crowd into raptures.


    2-0.


    The final was set. The USSR would meet the Netherlands.


    Two goals in five second-half minutes sent the Soviet Union through to their fourth UEFA European Championship final ¨C Italy had no answer to their strength and guile.


    Richard dropped his glass, but everyone ignored it. His hand was shaking¡ªhe knew he would be set for life.


    Humans are fascinating creatures, their emotions a mix of both rational and irrational thoughts. When someone unexpectedly strike it rich, some are taken by surprise, others may try to replicate the success, but almost always, there''s an underlying sense of jealousy that keeps them apart from the fortunate ones.


    ¡ê100,000,000!!!


    People are dying in envy.


    The Maddox family was once again caught in a storm, but this time, they weren''t stuck in fear or uncertainty. Instead, they were settling into their hotel room, surrounded by the warmth of a celebration.


    Pop!


    The champagne bottle erupted with a pop, its cork shooting into the air.


    "Hahaha, good son, good son," Bryan, his father, laughed heartily, patting Richard''s shoulder, unable to stop himself.


    Still grinning, Bryan sipped from his champagne, savoring the moment before grabbing a slice of pizza.


    "Hahahahaha."


    His laughter mixed with gratitude and relief as he finally let go of the pressure from losing his job. Without a doubt, today was the best day of his life.


    His mother, Anna, was also swept up in the joy. Normally, she would have kept things more restrained, perhaps reminding the family to keep things in check, but tonight was different.


    "Hundred... hundred..." she kept repeating, holding a bottle of champagne in her hands.


    Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes twinkled with a hint of tipsiness. She was, for once, truly carefree, no longer worrying about keeping up appearances.


    "Hahaha, we''re rich!"


    Next week, Harry would start his journey as a new student at the prestigious Oxford University. So, before his days in the dorms began, it was better to start crazy first.


    Seeing his entire family swept up in the euphoria of the hundred-million-pound celebration, Richard couldn''t help but feel happy. However, he knew he had to settle things first before fully joining in the moment.


    Central London, the William Hall Strand branch, people were waiting.


    They weren''t having it. The people waiting were regular gamblers, some already trapped in the damaging cycle of depositing, losing, and never withdrawing.


    Hearing someone claim a hundred million pounds sent the crowd into a frenzy, their hopes ignited by the possibility of a similar windfall.


    So, they waited.


    Waited for the protagonist to appear.


    They wanted to place their bets the same way he had, hoping to catch a piece of his luck or, at the very least, ride on what they had begun to call "Richard''s roller."


    However, their hopes were quickly dashed.


    Richard never appeared.


    The crowd, once buzzing with excitement, began to deflate. Their optimism, even after the match began, started to fade as time passed.


    Anticipation turned to realization, realization to disappointment, and disappointment soon turned into anger.


    But Richard never let them have their chance.


    The world''s first commercial DBS system, Sky Television, went on air just a day after the Euro final, where the Netherlands claimed the trophy, defeating the Soviet Union 2-0.


    [Anchor Returns to the News...


    Richard Maddox, a former footballer and renowned figure in the world of sports betting, has made a generous donation of ¡ê1 million to the victims of the Hillsborough disaster. The tragedy occurred during the FA Cup semi-final between Nottingham Forest and Liverpool. Now, let''s go live to Richard Maddox for more details. Richard, over to you...]


    After that, Richard appears on screen.


    "I express my deepest sympathy for all those affected by this devastating event," Richard said. "This donation is meant to assist the families of the victims and support the ongoing efforts to bring justice to all those impacted by the disaster."


    His donation has been met with widespread praise, with many within the football community viewing it as a powerful and heartfelt gesture of solidarity and compassion.


    Sky Television wasn''t stupid. With Richard''s name as the hundred million-pound bettor attached to him, it was no surprise that all eyes were on him.


    His name was still as hot as a steaming plate of fish and chips, and that''s exactly why they eagerly jumped at his request to air his donation for the Hillsborough disaster.


    Who could resist watching a millionaire sports bettor make such a big-hearted move? It was the perfect TV material¡ªcharity, football, and a dash of controversy, all wrapped up in one.


    But everything wasn''t over yet. Soon after the Euro final concluded and Richard''s live broadcast wrapped up, another piece of news emerged that shocked the entire nation.


    Gary Lineker fell seriously ill.


    The FA, as the governing body of English football, needed a scapegoat.


    They required someone to shoulder the blame for their humiliating failure at the Euro, where they couldn''t even secure a single point despite fielding a team full of star players.


    In their eyes, Lineker was the perfect candidate¡ªnot only to take the fall but to set an example for others they believed were avoiding criticism.


    Thus, Gary Lineker''s name was on the chopping block.


    The fact that he had struggled so badly throughout the tournament, to the point where people had urged Bobby Robson not to play him in the final match against the USSR, made him the natural target.


    But Lineker didn''t care about the blame. He was still battling severe fatigue and illness. On top of that, he started losing weight¡ªsomething alarming, considering he was never carrying extra pounds. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Then came the news: after returning home, Lineker collapsed and was rushed to the hospital.


    The truth finally came to light when he was diagnosed with hepatitis shortly after the tournament had ended. Bobby Robson, feeling guilty, visited him to apologize for dismissing his request to rest.


    BOOM!!!


    It was like someone just dropped a bomb.


    "This is what disgusts me the most. Don''t any of you see how badly Lineker is playing?


    "Mr. Gary Lineker, I need to say something to you."


    "Mr. Gary Lineker, if a player is not physically there, they shouldn''t be out on the pitch¡ªno matter what. I''m not talking about who''s better at football; everyone knows who''s better. What I''m saying is whether you should even be playing in the first place¡ª"


    Everything Richard said when he became a one-day wonder pundit on BBC was immediately talked about all over Britain¡ªand even Europe.


    The fact that he predicted Gary Lineker was unfit to play for England in the Euro¡ªnot because he wasn''t skilled, but because he was unwell¡ªshook the public.


    It caused an uproar, with people criticizing the FA and Bobby Robson, the manager of the Three Lions. The blame for the team''s failure was no longer just about tactics or performance, but about the failure to recognize the player''s condition and the pressure he had been put under to play.


    What is the use of the medical team then?


    Useless!

 Chapter 39 - 39: Advice

    When the league campaign began, reality hit hard.


    City stumbled in their opening game, suffering a frustrating 1-0 defeat at Hull''s Boothferry Park. Things only got worse at Maine Road, where an unforgiving Bank Holiday crowd watched in disbelief as Oldham dismantled City 4-1.


    The Blues finally picked up their first point in a 2-2 home draw with Walsall. But instead of relief, the match became infamous for the storm that followed.


    Peter Swales, the club chairman, bore the full brunt of the fans'' fury that day. Richard was there, witnessing for the first time just how quickly frustration could boil over into chaos.


    As the final whistle blew, a group of angry supporters gathered near the exit.


    Faces flushed with rage, their voices rose in a chorus of discontent. Shouts of frustration echoed through the night air, charged with the weight of years of disappointment.


    Security rushed forward, barking orders. "Hey, move aside!" But their words carried more authority than reassurance.


    There weren''t enough guards to hold back the swelling crowd. Fans pushed closer, their emotions unchecked.


    "I understand your frustration," Swales tried to reason, his voice betraying a hint of unease. "But this isn''t the way to solve it."


    The response was immediate.


    "You''re out of touch! We''ve been suffering for years!" one fan bellowed, his fists clenched. "This is supposed to be our club, not your toy!"


    Another voice cut through the noise. "You don''t care about us! You''re just here for the money!"


    "This is your fault!" someone shouted, pointing directly at Swales.


    Swales raised his hands in a desperate attempt to restore order. "Please, everyone, calm down. Let''s talk this through!"


    But the fans weren''t listening. The exit was blocked, every path sealed off by furious supporters. Metal gates rattled as fists pounded against them.


    Jeers turned to chants. Trapped, the board had no choice but to retreat back inside Maine Road Stadium.


    The noise outside swelled, a single chant growing louder, more menacing.


    "GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"


    As the chants grew louder, more hostile, Swales finally stepped forward. This time, he stood alone, surrounded by security, gripping a single microphone.


    Taking a deep breath, he raised it to his lips, hoping his voice would cut through the storm of anger.


    "Listen," he called out over the uproar. "I understand your anger, but this isn''t helping the situation! We are committed to turning things around, but we need your support¡ªnot threats or violence."


    The response was brutal.


    "Support? How can we support a team that lets us down week after week?"


    The chants only grew louder, the message clear.


    "GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"


    Swales'' grip tightened around the microphone. His club, his leadership¡ªboth were being rejected in the most public, humiliating way possible. And the fans weren''t going to stop until they were heard.


    "Listen, guys, I''m staying put. Right now, my focus is on the team''s performance and results, not any personal abuse thrown my way. I understand your frustration¡ªyou pay your hard-earned money, and the club has a responsibility to deliver. But let me make one thing clear: I''ll still be sitting here at the end of the season, and I hope by then, we''ll be celebrating promotion."


    With that closing, Swales turned around, and soon the piercing sound of sirens filled the air.


    Police had arrived. Not long after, the fans¡ªstill fuming with disappointment and frustration¡ªslowly began to disperse.


    Without a clear resolution, many had no choice but to give up on their beloved City.


    ''Hmm, probably supporting the neighboring team isn''t so bad either, huh?''


    If Richard could hear what they were thinking, he might have realized that this was the pivotal moment when City fans began shifting their allegiance to United.


    As for himself, he was strolling through the streets near Maine Road, taking in his surroundings when a sudden blare of a car horn jolted him.


    He instinctively stepped aside, thinking the vehicle was passing through¡ªonly to realize something absurd.He was already on the sidewalk.


    ''What kind of lunatic drives on the sidewalk?!'' he snapped, his anger flaring.


    Just as he was about to let loose on the reckless driver, the car screeched to a stop beside him. The window rolled down, and a familiar voice called out.


    "Richard, get in!"


    He instantly recognized the voice.


    "Yo, you got a new car?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he spotted Fay¡ªhis personal manager from William Hall¡ªsitting behind the wheel of a sleek, brand-new ride. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Intrigued, Richard didn''t hesitate. He quickly opened the door, slid into the seat, and glanced around the interior, taking in every detail.


    "Hahaha, thanks to your stunt last time, the higher-ups already promoted me from supervisor. And look!" Fay grinned, patting the steering wheel affectionately. "This is my baby."


    Richard''s mouth twitched at the way Fay said it, but he didn''t comment.


    With that, the brand-new Rover 200 smoothly pulled away, its engine humming as they sped off through the streets. Richard leaned back, glancing at the dashboard. The scent of new leather filled the cabin, and the smooth purr of the engine told him the car was fresh off the lot.


    "You really got yourself something fancy," Richard remarked, watching the city blur past the window.


    Fay chuckled, tapping the wheel with pride. "Perks of moving up in the world. So, where to?"


    Richard exhaled, his eyes still on the road ahead. He spotted a caf¨¦ and said, "Let''s get coffee first."


    After sitting down and waiting for their coffee, Richard couldn''t hold back his curiosity any longer.


    "So, what happened? Why did you suddenly show up here? What about Islington?"


    Fay hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. "Hey, tell me¡­ if one day I quit, what would you think?"


    Richard raised an eyebrow. ''The hell is this?'' If he wanted to quit, he should just do it. It wasn''t like he was his career counselor.


    Seeing Richard''s What-am-I-supposed-to-do-with-this-information? expression, Fay quickly waved his hand. "No, no, I mean¡­ if I jumped ship to another company, what would you think?"


    ''Ah, so that''s it.'' This guy wanted to cling to him¡ªhe didn''t want to lose him.


    Richard leaned back, arms crossed. "Didn''t you just get promoted?"


    As far as he remembered, Fay had just gone from Betting Shop Assistant to Retail Supervisor. Wasn''t he supposed to be celebrating? Why was he suddenly talking about leaving?


    But at the same time, he was intrigued. Which company was trying to poach him? It had to be a bigger one, right? But then¡­ was there even a betting company bigger than William Hall?


    Wait¡­ don''t tell me¡ª


    If there was one giant in the industry, it could only be the UK''s state-franchised lottery, operating under a government license¡ªThe National Lottery.


    But wait¡­ wasn''t the National Lottery created later? It shouldn''t exist yet, right?


    Was this some kind of butterfly effect because he won too much?


    "No, the company was just established, and out of nowhere, they came knocking on my door, asking me to join them. The salary isn''t that different, but the position they''re offering is insanely good," Fay said, rubbing his head like he was trying to physically smooth out his stress.


    "Alright, spill it. What company? And what job is so good that you''re ready to dump William Hall like an ex who just won the lottery?"


    "It''s¡­ it''s Paddy Power."


    Richard''s smile froze.


    "They offered me to be their Operations Manager," Fay continued, clearly uncomfortable. "But, uh¡­ you know there''s a catch, right?"


    Richard slowly put his cup down, already sensing the nonsense coming his way. "Go on¡­"


    "Well¡­ simply put, I get the job if my client¡ªokay, you get it now."


    Richard sighed. Of course. There had to be a twist.


    Gambling companies had a strict hierarchy. You started at entry level¡ªBetting Shop Assistant, Customer Service, or Retail Supervisor/Team Leader as the threshold. Then came mid-level roles, and above that, the holy grail: Senior and Management positions.


    Operations Manager?


    That was one of the senior roles alongside Marketing Manager, Product Manager, Odds Compiler, Senior Risk Analyst, and others.


    Fay was basically being handed a golden elevator past mid-level straight to the top floor. No wonder he looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown.


    "Take it."


    "What?"


    "I said take the job. I''m following you."


    Fay froze, processing the words like an old computer on dial-up.


    "Seriously?!" He shot up from his seat so fast the chair nearly toppled over. In his excitement, he almost grabbed Richard''s hand¡ªbefore realizing what he was about to do.


    Richard''s reflexes kicked in, his hand already mid-air, ready to slap away whatever nonsense was happening. Fay yanked his hand back just in time.


    Paddy Power¡ªwho would later become one of the biggest bookmakers around¡ªwas already making waves. And Richard knew exactly why they were after Fay. Or rather, why they were after him.


    Paddy Power catered to a younger crowd, thriving on humor and the kind of bold advertising that made traditional bookies clutch their pearls.


    Their marketing was cheeky, often outright scandalous¡ªbets on elections, celebrity scandals, political resignations¡­ heck, they even took bets on UFO sightings. If it was ridiculous, Paddy Power probably had odds on it.


    So what were they missing?


    Oh, right. A walking, talking controversy magnet.


    With his infamous bet against England, his massive wager on the Soviet Union, and his public speeches that turned English football into a raging inferno, there was nothing¡ªnothing¡ªPaddy Power wanted more than Richard Maddox.


    Their philosophy was simple: the more outrageous, the better. And who better to embody that than the man who had single-handedly given the FA a collective aneurysm?


    Before Richard could say anything, his brick phone suddenly rang. Thinking it might be his family, he instinctively picked it up without hesitation.


    "Hello?"


    The moment he heard the voice on the other end, he was taken aback.


    Wrong number?


    That didn''t make sense¡ªhe had never given his number to anyone outside his close circle. So how the hell was this person calling him?


    "Hello, Mr. Richard? Is this Mr. Richard Maddox?"


    The voice was old, unfamiliar, and filled with panic. The unexpected formality snapped Richard out of his thoughts.


    "Yes, yes, this is Richard. Who is this?"


    "Mr. Richard, it''s me¡­ Something¡ªsomething happened to Ian. Please, help."


    Richard immediately sat up straight, his heart pounding.


    "Mr. Pigden? Is that you? What happened to Ian?!"


    "Ian¡ªthe police caught him. Please, Mr. Richard, you have to help!"


    "What?! Where is he now? I''m going to get him!"


    "They¡­ they have him in Chelmsford Prison. He''s being held there."


    Richard clenched his jaw, gripping the phone tightly. "Got it. Thanks for letting me know, Mr. Pigden."


    Without wasting a second, he turned to Fay, grabbed his arm, and pulled him up from his seat.


    "Drive me to Chelmsford Prison. Now."


    Fay blinked, confused by Richard''s sudden urgency. "Wait, what? What the hell happened?"


    "Just drive, I''ll explain on the way!" Richard snapped, already moving toward the car.

 Chapter 40 - 40: In Prison

    In the later chapters of his life, Ian Edward Wright¡ªor as he would become known, Ian Wright¡ªwould go on to achieve great success with London clubs Crystal Palace and Arsenal.


    Known for his speed, agility, lethal finishing, and relentless aggression, he would eventually lift the Premier League title, both major domestic cup competitions, and the European Cup Winners'' Cup.


    Born to Jamaican parents in the Woolwich area of London, Wright''s journey to footballing stardom wasn''t smooth.


    He was initially overlooked by professional clubs, forcing him to carve out his own path through non-league football.


    After City''s rejection, Richard gradually began to put Ian Wright out of his mind.


    He had other targets¡ªplayers who were younger, prospects he believed could make him more money in the long run. However, fate had a funny way of bringing people back together, and Wright''s name was never too far from the conversation.


    Richard had never contacted Ian before, let alone spoken to him. But one thing was certain¡ªhe always kept his scouting records safe and secure.


    It was no secret that Richard Maddox had an eye for talent.


    He was the man who unearthed the next generation of City stars, including Rob Jones, Graeme Le Saux, and Steve McManaman.


    With his outspoken nature, daring bets, and willingness to shake up the status quo, he had become both respected and notorious. But one thing was undeniable¡ªpeople recognized his ability to spot raw talent.


    As a result, many in the football world, from local scouts to casual fans, would tip him off whenever they saw a player with potential.


    Some did it out of hope, some out of curiosity, and others simply because they wanted to see what madness Richard Maddox would stir up next.


    As a result, he got a tip-off from Billy Smith, the manager of Dulwich Hamlet, about a promising 21-year-old striker playing park football.


    As City''s scout at the time, Richard naturally went to see for himself, and within 20 seconds, Wright had already opened the scoring with a stunning solo effort.


    Accounts differ on exactly how many goals he netted that day¡ªsome say three, others four¡ªbut one thing was certain: it was more than enough to earn him a trial at City.


    What Richard didn''t know, however, was that danger was lurking in the shadows, watching his every move¡ªhis long-time nemesis, City''s own Peter Pettigrew.


    The moment Richard let his guard down, Peter struck first. He didn''t try to persuade Ian directly. Instead, he went after his family.


    Caught off guard, Richard was blindsided when Ian rejected him outright, saying he already had an agent.


    Suspicious, Richard dug deeper, and after some investigation, he finally connected the dots.


    Fuming, he confronted Pettigrew, but with the backing of Ian''s mother¡ªespecially his stepfather¡ªRichard found himself forced to back off.


    Just like that, Ian Wright''s name never came up again in his scouting reports. Even if he was disappointed, he didn''t dwell on it for long.


    Ian Wright wasn''t the only future star he had his eye on.


    Rather than wasting time lamenting a lost opportunity, he quickly redirected his focus to another rising talent¡ªLes Ferdinand.


    Ferdinand was born in Acton, Greater London, which made tracking him down relatively easy. But when Richard finally met Les Ferdinand, things didn''t exactly go as planned.


    It wasn''t the kind of chaos you''d expect¡ªno brawls, no riots¡ªjust spectacularly bad timing. He had unknowingly walked straight into a family birthday party. And not just any birthday party. It was a full-blown family gathering, with every single Ferdinand in existence seemingly present.


    Richard considered turning around and leaving to avoid intruding, but before he could slip away, the ever-hospitable Ferdinands enthusiastically invited him to join the celebration instead.


    With no escape route in sight, he begrudgingly became the one and only outsider at this lively family affair.


    Still, good people will always find a way¡ªthat''s what he believed. As the party carried on, Richard found himself mingling with the Ferdinand family, brushing shoulders with the cousins¡ªincluding baby Anton Ferdinand, who had no idea he would one day follow in his older cousin''s footsteps.


    But his attention remained fixed on one young boy¡ªthe true protagonist of the evening. There he was, grinning from ear to ear, blowing out the candles on his birthday cake: Rio Ferdinand.


    ''Jackpot...''


    That''s for the future, by the way.


    At 20 years old, Les Ferdinand moved from Southall to Hayes, where he made an impression by scoring 20 goals in 42 appearances across all competitions. He spent two years there, and now, at 22, he was still grinding away in the lower leagues.


    So naturally, Richard''s arrival was like a firework in the dark¡ªsudden, explosive, and impossible to ignore.


    However, when they heard his offer, their expressions changed instantly.


    They had all heard the rumors, but hearing it firsthand was a different story. All of them had the same thought: ''This guy is insane.''


    Just like before, Richard made his offer¡ªnot as a scout, but as an agent. His proposal was bold: he would buy Ferdinand''s contract from Hayes, and in return, Ferdinand would have to follow him from trial to trial, just as he had done with Shearer before.


    This meant Ferdinand would have to start over, right? Was he crazy?


    But under the pressure of money¡ªespecially after Richard played his trump card, a €15,000 guarantee that he would take care of Les Ferdinand¡ªthey finally caved and agreed. And with that, another name was added to Richard''s book of rising stars.


    So, as it stood, the players under Richard''s wing were:


    Alan Shearer ¨C Striker / Current club: Southampton


    Matt Le Tissier ¨C Attacking Midfielder / Current club: Southampton


    Teddy Sheringham ¨C Striker / Second Striker / Current club: Millwall


    Tony Cascarino ¨C Striker / Current club: Millwall


    Andy Cole ¨C Striker / Current club: Arsenal


    Lee Sharpe ¨C Winger / Current club: Manchester United


    Yes, you''re right.


    Despite Richard''s involvement, fate seemed to take its natural course.


    After being rejected by City, Andy Cole and Lee Sharpe still ended up at Arsenal and Manchester United, just as they were always meant to.


    In fact, Lee Sharpe had already joined United''s first team as a backup for new signing Ralph Milne when the club''s first-choice left winger, Jesper Olsen, left for N?stved.


    After Les Ferdinand agreed, it didn''t take long for Richard to shift his focus back to where he truly belonged¡ªQueens Park Rangers.


    As expected, Ferdinand was offered a contract by QPR, signed without hesitation, and officially joined the club. His family was overjoyed, showering Richard with gratitude for helping their son take the next big step in his career. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard accepted their thanks, but he knew the real challenges were just beginning. Hayes and QPR were two entirely different worlds, and Ferdinand would have to adapt quickly.


    Sure enough, his first year didn''t go as planned¡ªhe was loaned out for three games to Third Division Brentford before spending a season with the Turkish club Be?ikta?.


    The moment his family heard the news, panic set in. ''Turkey? What kind of place is that?''


    Concerned and confused, Ferdinand''s parents immediately contacted Richard, demanding answers. Only after he calmly explained the situation did they finally settle down. Soon, their patience paid off.


    Ferdinand thrived in Turkey, scoring 14 goals in 24 league games. More importantly, he got his first taste of silverware, helping Be?ikta? secure a 3¨C1 aggregate victory over Fenerbah?e in the Turkish Cup.


    Now, if one were to look at the statistics, they would find Les Ferdinand''s name listed with nine First Division appearances, along with his first two English league goals.


    SCREECH!!!


    The sharp, grating sound of tires skidding against asphalt echoed through the air as a brand-new Rover 200 came to an abrupt halt in front of Chelmsford Prison.


    Richard didn''t waste a second. He strode up to the front desk of Chelmsford Prison, where a bored-looking officer sat behind thick glass, barely acknowledging his presence.


    Richard rapped his knuckles on the counter, forcing the man to look up.


    "I''m here to see Ian Edward Wright," he said, his tone firm.


    The officer blinked, then sighed, reaching for a clipboard. "Name?"


    Richard didn''t bother answering. Instead, he smoothly took the clipboard, discreetly slipping a few bills onto it before sliding it back across the counter.


    "Richard Maddox."


    The officer''s eyes flickered with recognition. Instantly, his previously indifferent attitude melted away.


    Without another word, he picked up the phone, muttered something into the receiver, then turned back to Richard with a knowing look.


    "Follow me," he said, this time with a smile¡ªtoo warm, too eager. It made Richard''s skin crawl.


    As the heavy metal door buzzed open, he stepped through, the cold air inside the prison hitting him like a wall. The door slammed shut behind him with an unsettling finality. The hallway smelled of damp concrete, sweat, and something faintly metallic.


    After a short walk, they arrived at a small, dimly lit visiting room. A heavy table sat in the center, bolted to the floor, with two chairs facing each other.


    And there he was.


    Broken. His eyes were swollen and puffy¡ªwhether from exhaustion, anxiety, or crying, Richard couldn''t tell. But he knew. He knew because if he were in Ian''s shoes, he''d be the same.


    His wife and two sons were waiting for him at home, but he wasn''t there.


    He was here. Locked away.


    All because of unpaid fines for driving without tax or insurance. Such a small mistake, yet the weight of it crushed him like a landslide.


    Richard''s guess had been right.


    After being locked in that cold, suffocating cell, Ian had broken down. He had wept¡ªshoulders shaking, hands clenched into fists¡ªtears falling with the full weight of his regret.


    And in that moment, alone in the darkness, he had sworn to God that if he ever got out, he would do everything in his power to make it as a footballer.


    No matter what it took.


    "Ian."


    "..."


    "Ian!"


    Finally, Ian Wright, his head lowered, his shoulders trembling as he sniffled, slowly lifted his gaze.


    And when he saw Richard standing there, his breath caught in his throat. His blood ran cold.


    "R-Richard... y-you¡ª"


    "Mr. Pigden called me."


    The moment that name left Richard''s lips, Ian shattered. His face crumpled, and before he could stop himself, tears streamed down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands, his body wracked with sobs.


    "I blew it," he choked out, his voice breaking. "I blew it. I ended up in prison, and now... I don''t know what to do anymore." His words tumbled out between ragged breaths, his whole body shaking.


    "Even Mr. Pigden knows... He must be so disappointed."


    Allen remained silent, watching as Ian Wright broke down before him.


    Truth be told, he didn''t know much about Ian¡ªat least, not personally. But once, he had seen a video.


    A grainy clip playing on someone''s screen, showing Wright reuniting with his former teacher. He remembered the way Wright had wept, clinging to the old man as if he were a lifeline.


    After that, the screen changed to an older Ian Wright, wearing his iconic flat cap, saying, "Teacher Sydney Pigden taught me to read and write. He was the first positive male figure in my life."


    "Ian..." Richard called softly.


    Ian''s sobbing slowed, but he was still sniffling, his face a mess of tears and misery.


    "Ian, where is your mother? Where is Peter? Didn''t he sign you up?"


    Ian shook his head. "They rejected me. I''m on my own now."


    Richard''s eyes widened in shock. "What?! Didn''t he promise you a trial at City? What the hell happened?"


    Under Richard''s persistent questioning, Ian finally told him everything. Yes, he had gone on trial at City, but he was rejected almost immediately.


    After that, he begged Peter Pettigrew for another chance¡ªafter all, Peter had promised to help him¡ªbut the answer was still no.


    With no other options, Ian had left, dejected and alone.


    "Why didn''t you call me? Didn''t you have my number?"


    The moment the words left his mouth, Richard realized the flaw in his own thinking. Of course Ian hadn''t called.


    From the very beginning, he had fought his way up because of money¡ªor rather, the lack of it. For someone like him, even a few pennies mattered. A phone call? That was a luxury he couldn''t afford.


    Richard felt a deep frustration settle in his chest. He wanted to explain to Ian that his role was different from Pettigrew''s. Peter was a scout. He was an agent. Two completely different roles.


    He couldn''t help but blame the times¡ªhow outdated the system was. The role of an agent was still unfamiliar, especially to players in the lower leagues.


    But still, he was curious.


    What had Pettigrew said to make Ian reject him so completely?

 Chapter 41 - 41: Saving Your Career

    "Sir, can I bail out Ian now?" Richard asked, his eyes fixed on the officer nearby.


    "This..." The officer hesitated.


    Richard sighed at this. Without another word, he reached into his jacket, pulled out a thick bundle of bills, and slid them into the his jacket.


    "No worries. Let me take care of the paperwork and escort you both out." The officer said, straightening up, now more confident.


    Ian, who had been sitting in the holding area, heard the words and froze. He sat still for a moment. When the door opened and Richard stepped in, their eyes met. Ian stood up, a mix of gratitude and confusion on his face.


    "Come on. Let''s get out of here. Your wife and son must be waiting for you."


    Hearing the words "wife and son," Ian''s voice cracked as he looked up at Richard. "You really... you really came through for me."


    Richard nodded, his gaze softer now. "I did what I had to. But you''re going to need to make things right."


    There was no need to say more. There was still plenty of time for them to talk.


    The journey back home was quiet.


    Ian, still confused about everything that had just happened, kept silent. Sensing the tension in the car, Fay deliberately drove a little slower.


    Ian was the first to break the silence. "Why?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion. "Why did you save me?"


    Richard glanced at him, then answered calmly, "To sign you and make you my player."


    "Oh," Ian replied, his eyes drifting to the passing scenery outside the window.


    Too much hope. And in the end, it all felt like empty words. He was afraid.


    Richard had already explained his role: an agent, not a scout, clearing up all the confusion. Even Richard himself actually hadn''t understood the full picture until now.


    Pettigrew¡ª that rat¡ª had told Ian to avoid signing with him at all costs, warning him it would ruin his career. But now, Ian knew who had truly tried to sabotage his future.


    "Are you still playing for Lewisham?" Richard asked, trying to keep the conversation going.


    Ian shook his head. "No, I''m playing for Greenwich Borough."


    "Is it good there?"


    "..."


    Richard pressed further, asking more questions until Ian finally opened up. Ian shared how the rejection from City had shattered his family, especially his abusive stepfather, who didn''t hesitate to kick him and his family out of the house.


    Homeless, Ian could only grit his teeth and sign semi-professional terms with Greenwich Borough, all while still working as a plasterer to support his family.


    "If you hadn''t come, I honestly would''ve given up on football and become a laborer instead," Ian said, his voice low.


    Richard took a deep breath, processing Ian''s words. Thankfully, all of this still hadn''t gone too far.


    "Do you still want to play football?" Richard finally asked, his voice quiet.


    Ian could only smile wryly, mocking himself. "You know what? Mr. Pigden used to come to my house, pick me up, and drive me directly to training."


    "..."


    "It was for Southend and Brighton. Mr. Pigden really believed in me. But I..." Ian paused, his hand covering his mouth as the emotion caught in his throat. His voice cracked, heavy with regret.


    "..."


    "But I ended up in prison. I didn''t see it back then, but they were trying to keep me out of trouble, trying to steer me right. And I blew it... all because I couldn''t wait. I was too impatient, too desperate to prove myself, and now look where I am."


    "..."


    "Becoming a professional was just an illusion. I''m too disillusioned by it all."


    "So, you would just give up? After all your sacrifices?" Richard finally asked.


    "..." This time, Ian couldn''t answer.


    Richard didn''t push him. "Ian, what I know is this: We often look at successful people and assume their paths have always been smooth, that everything has been easy for them to get to where they are today."


    "..." Ian stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, his thoughts elsewhere as the cars passed by.


    "Do you know that¡ªno, do you believe¡ªthat all the experiences you''ve faced, everything you''ve gone through, have shaped you into someone stronger? More resilient?"


    "..."


    Deprived childhood, an abusive stepfather, a bullying older stepbrother.


    His real father had absconded, leaving his mother to raise their family in a one-bedroom house that, if Ian were to describe it, he would call ''a place that wasn''t a home.''


    That''s why he spent hours outside, kicking a tennis ball against a brick wall for hours on end.


    Weed-smoking, gambling, staying out late, blowing his wages¡ªhis life had been a whirlwind of chaos, weighed down by destructive habits.


    If he hadn''t been strong enough to hold himself back, he probably would''ve followed his stepfather''s lead.


    Thankfully, he managed to persist. His stepfather was tough, but he always found himself bearing the brunt of the anger. Even now, he couldn''t understand why he was the constant target of his hatred.


    "Are you afraid?" Richard asked suddenly, his words slicing through the tension, striking deep within Ian.


    Ian instinctively turned toward Richard, their eyes locking.


    Richard also locked eyes with Ian Wright. With brutal honesty, he said, "Ian, I don''t care what Pettigrew said about me. But let me make one thing clear: If you fail, I''ll kick you out. And I won''t hesitate."


    Ian was stunned. Even Fay, who had been driving in silence, slammed his foot on the brake in shock.


    "Goddamn, Fay! CAN YOU DRIVE PROPERLY?!" Richard barked, his frustration rising.


    "S-sorry!" Fay stammered, quickly regaining control of the wheel and driving at a more even pace.


    Richard cursed under his breath, rubbing his face in exasperation. ''Hah... this really ruins the mood,'' he thought, as the tension he''d built up so carefully shattered in an instant.


    Leaning back in his seat, Richard''s tone dropped, becoming more serious, yet still carrying the weight of his words. "You''ve heard the rumors, right? About me. That I''m a bad guy, a terrible person. My injuries, my speeches on TV, my gambling habits... it''s all out there."


    A silence fell between them, thick and uncomfortable. Then Richard''s voice dropped even lower. "But none of that changes what I see in you. And if you think I''m here to give you some free pass, you''re wrong. It''s not about pity. You''ve got to prove yourself to me. I make money from you. Every. Single. Day. Do you understand me?"


    Ian felt the weight of Richard''s words settle deep in his chest. It hit him like a slap to the face, but strangely, it brought him some relief.


    Because he was tired. Tired of empty promises, tired of rejection, tired of false hope.


    This was it¡ªno more excuses, no more waiting. It was on him now, every single day, to prove that he was worthy.


    The man sitting next to him wasn''t here to coddle him. The words stung, but they were the truth. he wasn''t going to hold his hand.


    He had already made it clear that he would squeeze him dry. Richard wasn''t here out of charity¡ªhe was here to make money off him. But, oddly enough, that didn''t scare him. It was better than the hollow words of encouragement that would''ve made him sick.


    After all, everyone worked for money, right?


    It was time to rise up, to fight for what he wanted. The person sitting next to him believed in him¡ªand that was all he needed.


    This time, he wasn''t going to run. He was going to face the challenge head-on, fists clenched. "I''ll prove it," Ian muttered under his breath.


    He wasn''t sure if Richard had heard him, but it didn''t matter. It was a promise he made to himself. And this time, he was determined to keep it.


    Richard slapped his thigh with a grin. "Good, that''s good! Fay, turn the car around¡ªwe''re going to Selhurst now." sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Fay glanced at Richard through the rearview mirror, brows furrowed. "Selhurst? What for?"


    "Of course, for a trial!"


    "A trial?"


    This time, it was Ian who looked confused. ''Didn''t he still have a contract with Greenwich Borough?''


    "Don''t worry, I''ve already bought out your contract," Richard waved his hand dismissively.


    That shocked Ian the most. The rumors about he recklessly spending money on things that made no sense were apparently true. It was mind-boggling how he didn''t even flinch at the cost.


    If Richard had known Ian was thinking that, he would''ve clicked his tongue and said, ''It''s not about spending money recklessly¡ªit''s about spending it efficiently and effectively!''


    Ian Wright''s salary at Greenwich Borough was just ¡ê30 a week, which meant over the next two years, his contract was worth a little over ¡ê3,120.


    But Richard hadn''t bothered to explain the details¡ªit wasn''t necessary. In truth, it wasn''t just ¡ê3,120.


    To secure Ian''s release, Richard had also promised to fund the club''s gym renovations, covering new equipment and upgrades. The cost far more than just a few thousand. But to Richard, it was an investment.


    By the time they arrived at Selhurst Park, the sun was already starting to set. In front of the stadium, Richard and his group were waiting for someone.


    The moment the car parked, Richard didn''t waste time¡ªhe stepped out immediately and extended his hand.


    "Mr. Prentice, sorry we''re late."


    "Haha, no worries," Prentice replied with an easy smile before turning to Ian, who stood frozen in place. "Ian, nice to meet you again."


    "Y-You¡ª" Ian stammered, his eyes widening in shock.


    Peter Prentice. A Crystal Palace scout. Ian knew exactly who he was.


    Back when when he was still playing for Greenwich Borough and working as a plasterer to support his family, Prentice had approached him not once, not twice, but three times.


    And each time, he had turned him down, which was why standing here now face-to-face with him, Ian couldn''t help but be confused.


    "Mr. Prentice, then I''ll leave Ian in your care."


    Ian was dumbfounded. ''W-wait, what just happened?''


    Richard simply placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "You''ll be staying here at Selhurst Park for six months," he said before leaning in and whispering, "Make the most of this time. I want to see you playing in the first team by the latter half of the season. Understand?"


    "But my family¡ª"


    "Don''t worry about them." Richard stated before pulling out his brick phone and pressing it against Ian''s chest. "Your wife already knows about your situation. You just need to say hello now."


    The trial at Selhurst Park would last six months. That was because, at Ian Wright''s age, he was already in his prime, meaning the club needed more time to observe and evaluate him properly.


    Richard had already spoken with scout Peter Prentice and current manager Steve Coppell, and, fortunately, they were willing to give Ian a chance.


    With their cooperation secured, the only remaining issue was Ian''s family¡ªwhich Richard had handled easily. After all, when money talks, problems tend to disappear.


    The only real obstacle left was communication. Richard sighed at the thought. If only the internet were more advanced, everything would move so much faster.


    After settling Ian Wright''s situation, Richard bid farewell to everyone at Selhurst Park and left the stadium with Fay.


    The moment he sank into the passenger seat, he let out a deep sigh. "Thanks, Fay," he muttered.


    If it weren''t for his car, he might have been too late¡ªnot too late in the sense of Ian Wright giving up on his football career, but too late to make a real impact and leave his mark on his life. That, to him, mattered just as much.


    Now that he thought about it, he had money. Maybe it was time to buy his own car instead of constantly relying on others.

 Chapter 42 - 42: Office Day

    Prior to the end of 1988, City fans watched as their star striker, Paul Stewart, succumbed to the lure of the First Division, joining Tottenham for ¡ê1.7 million.


    The transfer fee gave the Blues the funds to strengthen their squad. They swapped strikers with Sheffield Wednesday, with Carl Bradshaw arriving at Maine Road while Imre Varadi headed over the Pennines to join the Owls.


    In defense, Bill Williams was signed from Stockport County for around ¡ê50,000.


    Manager Mel Machin continued bolstering the squad for the promotion push, bringing in Gary Megson from Sheffield Wednesday for ¡ê250,000.


    Additionally, youngster Andy Milner was signed from non-league side Netherfield for ¡ê7,000. To cap off their recruitment efforts, City extended an invitation to Justin Fashanu¡ªwho had previously retired due to injury¡ªto train with the squad in an attempt to resurrect his career.


    New Year''s Eve saw City claim a 2-1 victory at Swindon, closing out 1988 on a high.


    Next, they kicked off 1989 with a goalless draw at home against Leeds, followed by a hard-fought 1-0 win over Leicester at Maine Road in the FA Cup Third Round.


    The new signing, Gary Megson from Sheffield Wednesday, made an immediate impact, scoring on his debut in a crucial 1-0 win at Oldham, keeping City just three points behind league leaders Chelsea.


    Their momentum continued with a dominant 4-1 home victory over Hull. However, their FA Cup run came to an end in the Fourth Round, as Brentford handed them a disappointing 3-1 defeat.


    Despite the setback, City stayed focused in the league. A gritty 1-0 win at Portsmouth propelled them into second place in Division Two, just a point behind Chelsea.


    The Blues then extended their winning streak to five consecutive league matches with a commanding 4-0 home triumph over Ipswich, followed by a solid 2-0 win at Birmingham.


    Their fine form continued with a 2-0 victory over Plymouth at Maine Road, pushing them to the top of the table with a third of the season remaining. Manager Mel Machin''s impressive run didn''t go unnoticed, as he was named Barclays Manager of the Month for February.


    Moving in to March and City could only draw 1-1 at home to West Brom and then they lost 1-0 at Watford. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With promotion in sight, City seemed to get the jitters as they suffered their biggest defeat of the season¡ªa crushing 4-0 loss to promotion rivals Blackburn. This was followed by a 2-1 home defeat to Barnsley and a 3-2 loss to Chelsea at Maine Road. It looked like they were pressing the self-destruct button.


    It was time for Mel Machin to dip back into the transfer market, and he did so by signing David Oldfield from Luton for ¡ê600,000.


    ''The good ship Promotion'' was steadied then slightly with a 4-2 victory at Oxford, followed by a hard-fought 1-1 home draw against Crystal Palace. City were relieved to secure a point, especially after Nigel Gleghorn was forced to step in as goalkeeper for half the game following an injury to Andy Dibble.


    After reading the reports, Richard closed them and let out a long breath.


    Initially, he wanted to find faults with manager Mel Machin, but it seemed City''s promotion was already within sight. He didn''t know exactly how the rest of City''s season would unfold, so all he could do was wait.


    After finishing the internal reports, Richard shifted his focus to external updates¡ªeverything happening across English football.


    The most striking news was Manchester United chairman Martin Edwards agreeing to sell the club to Michael Knighton for ¡ê10 million. Richard hurled the glass in his hand, breaking it into pieces.


    The name "Glazer" carried such hatred that it seemed to overshadow Manchester United''s rich history, clouding everything else.


    Because of that, he had completely overlooked an opportunity¡ªone he should have seized.


    Though the sale fell through in he end, and instead of taking over the club, Knighton joined the board of directors.


    The next page covered the news of the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul, where Great Britain and Northern Ireland competed, winning 5 gold, 10 silver, and 9 bronze medals.


    You might be wondering¡ªwhy was the Olympics even mentioned in the report, right?


    Well, Manchester City''s board had plans to build a new stadium as part of the city''s bid to host the 1996 Summer Olympics.


    This time, the board was particularly shrewd, forming Manchester City''s council from internal stakeholders, local government, and all related parties while deliberately excluding him from the project.


    That very council had already submitted a bid, which included plans for an 80,000-capacity stadium on a greenfield site west of Manchester city center.


    Finally, on the last page, the most pressing issue was the aftermath of the Hillsborough disaster.


    The latest report contained the findings of an inquiry into the causes of the tragedy, which had now been officially published.


    The inquiry concluded that the primary cause of the disaster was the failure of police control. Particular attention was given to the decision to open the secondary gates, which led to overcrowding in the terraces. Additionally, it was noted that the match should have been delayed¡ªsomething that had been done at other venues in similar situations.


    At the end of the report, a new law was recommended, stating that all major stadiums should be converted to an all-seater model.


    This meant that all ticketed spectators would be required to have assigned seats rather than standing in designated areas. Other recommendations from the report included regulations on the sale of alcohol within stadiums, the installation of crush barriers, and the removal of perimeter fences.


    Nonetheless, the government decided that no standing accommodation should be allowed. The Football League in England and the Scottish Football League mandated that clubs in their top divisions comply with this requirement by August 1994.


    Richard was already feeling a headache coming on because of this.


    Most English football stadiums had large standing terraces where thousands of fans stood close together.


    Maine Road was no exception¡ªits Kippax Stand was one of the biggest standing areas in England. The problem was that after the stadium was converted to an all-seater, capacity dropped to just 35,150.


    This was especially true for the legendary Kippax Stand, where the atmosphere had once been electric for every match. According to expert consultation, the stand could not be expanded any further, making the loss of capacity permanent.


    Maine Road Stadium was located in a densely built-up residential area in Moss Side, Manchester, surrounded by houses, roads, and businesses. There was no room for large-scale expansion.


    Even after the last rebuild of the Kippax Stand, any further expansion would have required demolishing nearby homes, which simply wasn''t feasible.


    Now, with the final verdict in place, it meant the terraces had to be completely demolished and rebuilt as an all-seater stand.


    Beyond that, City also had to brace for fan backlash and a drop in matchday revenue, as the stadium''s capacity would be reduced from over 80,000 to around 35,000.


    This was why the City board was so adamant about moving to a new stadium¡ªand they saw the Olympics as the perfect catalyst to make it happen.


    Well, for Richard, moving to a new stadium made sense.


    The stadium had been built in 1923 and was now outdated compared to modern football grounds¡ªbut only if City''s cash flow was stable.


    The cost of rebuilding the Kippax Stand alone was around ¡ê16 million, according to the financial statement he read. Now, according to expert estimates, converting Maine Road into an all-seater stadium¡ªincluding modifications to other stands¡ªwould cost ¡ê20¨C25 million.


    This was a significant expense for City, who were not financially strong to begin with. Now, they faced a dilemma¡ªshould they continue investing in Maine Road or focus on building a new stadium?


    Richard had already given his recommendation: if City wanted to move forward with a new stadium, there was no point in upgrading Maine Road. The worst-case scenario?


    The club might need to rent another stadium for two or three years while the new one was built. But the board was stubborn and resistant to change.


    It became clear that Maine Road would never be a long-term solution for City. However, the board was also reluctant to lose their own stadium, fearing it would be seen as an embarrassment in front of City fans.


    Letting out a tired sigh, Richard could already imagine the struggle ahead. The club''s on-field problems, combined with the costly stadium upgrades, made this transition period even tougher.


    At the end of the day, it all came down to a vote.


    Richard lost¡ªand he lost badly.


    The final count was 1 vs. 6.


    With only seven seats on the board, this result meant that not a single person supported his decision. He had been completely outvoted, his argument dismissed without hesitation.


    What else could he say?


    Nothing.


    He was no longer involved in day-to-day management, as he had already been kicked from his position. His power was now limited to giving advice as one of the largest shareholders, nothing more.


    Since they had already made their decision, so be it.


    Back to the First Division Battle


    Liverpool triumphed in the FA Cup final with a 3¨C2 victory over their Merseyside rivals, Everton. It was the second all-Merseyside cup final in four seasons, and just like in 1986, Ian Rush delivered on the big stage, scoring twice for Liverpool. With this win, they lifted their fourth FA Cup title.


    But the celebrations were short-lived.


    Not long after, Arsenal stunned Liverpool at Anfield, clinching the First Division title in the most dramatic fashion possible. With the final game of the season hanging in the balance, Michael Thomas broke Liverpool hearts, netting a last-minute goal that sealed the championship.


    This victory secured Arsenal''s ninth league title, ending an 18-year wait to be crowned champions of England. Their triumph not only secured glory for themselves but also shattered Liverpool''s hopes of a domestic double.


    On the City Side


    With just two games left, Manchester City sat six points clear of Crystal Palace, though the Eagles had a game in hand.


    At Maine Road, the atmosphere was electric as fans had already started celebrating promotion at halftime in the penultimate game of the season. City were cruising with a 3-0 lead over Bournemouth at the break.


    But as any City supporter knows, nothing is certain when it comes to supporting the Citizens, and sure enough, in a shocking turn of events, Bournemouth staged a dramatic comeback, equalizing in the sixth minute of injury time to make it 3-3.


    Despite the setback, City still had promotion in their hands. Heading into the final game against Bradford, they knew a single point would be enough to secure their return to the top flight.


    The travelling City supporters endured a nerve-wracking afternoon at Valley Parade, as their team trailed 1-0 late into the game. But with just four minutes left on the clock, Trevor Morley stepped up as the hero, scoring the crucial equalizer to send City back to the big time.


    Off the pitch, Neil McNab was named City''s Player of the Year, while Gerry Taggart claimed the Young Player of the Year award.


    Thousands of City fans flooded the roads, singing, cheering, and waving scarves in celebration. There was no open-top bus, but the fans, players, and management team basked in the glory of their hard-fought promotion.


    Beer splashed through the air as chants of "City''s Going Up! City''s Going Up!" echoed all around.


    But Richard did not join in. It wasn''t bitterness toward City or anything like that¡ªhe simply had more pressing matters to attend to. An appointment awaited him.


    On that very day, while the city buzzed with celebration, the World Wrestling Federation was making history, hosting its first UK event at the London Arena.


    And Richard? He was sitting across from a McMahon Jr.


    As someone who knew what the future held, he was determined to secure his place in WWF''s success for decades to come.

 Chapter 43 - 43: Breaking Into Showbiz

    Where a lavish buffet is spread across long, polished tables draped in crisp white linen, the room is bathed in the soft glow of elegant chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. Their warm, golden light reflects off the polished floors, casting a serene ambiance over the gathering.


    This is the Hilton lounge¡ªelite, sophisticated, and relaxed, as guests in tailored suits and evening gowns mingle, sipping champagne and exchanging pleasantries.


    "Mr. McMahon, congratulations!" A tall, well-dressed man extended his hand with a warm smile.


    "Haha, thank you," Vince McMahon responded, a hint of pride in his tone. His eyes gleamed as he shook the man''s hand, looking every bit the part of a business mogul in his tailored suit.


    "Mr. McMahon, it seems your WWF is really on the rise," another voice chimed in.


    "Haha, you''re too kind," Vince chuckled, clearly enjoying the attention.


    "Mr. McMahon..."


    It couldn''t be helped. McMahon gained significant traction when he hired American Wrestling Association talent Hulk Hogan, who had achieved popularity outside of wrestling, notably for his appearance in the film Rocky III.


    He also signed Roddy Piper as Hogan''s rival, and shortly afterward, Jesse Ventura as an announcer.


    Other wrestlers joined the roster, such as The Iron Sheik, Nikolai Volkoff, Junkyard Dog, Paul Orndorff, Greg Valentine, and Ricky Steamboat, adding to the existing stars like Jimmy Snuka, Don Muraco, Sgt. Slaughter, and Andr¨¦ the Giant.


    However, beneath the smile of the young McMahon, there was a heavy pressure that no one truly knew about¡ªa weight that he had to shoulder alone.


    The WWF was on the verge of financial collapse.


    This was the first international WWF tour, and each venture naturally required a massive capital investment.


    Everything had been calculated¡ªthe fixed and variable costs of such an event¡ªbut even he hadn''t anticipated the storm that would hit before his groundbreaking concept, WrestleMania, had even launched.


    The WWF was hit with allegations of steroid abuse and distribution. The steroid trial alone cost the company an estimated $5 million, all during a time of record-low revenues.


    Despite having a large audience and growing popularity, the high variable costs were slowly eating away at any potential profit, leaving the company in a financial mess.


    It was no secret that he succeeded in getting WWF programming syndicated across the United States. This angered other promoters and disrupted the well-established boundaries between different wrestling promotions, known as the territory system, which had been in use since the founding of the National Wrestling Alliance.


    This made McMahon helpless. As a result, he had no choice but to create a new script and promote younger wrestlers. But this brought him back to the original problem.


    Money.


    McMahon released a frustrated breath, his mind struggling to find a way to get his innovative WrestleMania off the ground.


    To truly turn the WWF into a national promotion, he needed to have the WWF touring the entire United States. But right now, that was impossible with the revenue they currently had. So, he envisioned a way to obtain the necessary capital through a risky all-or-nothing gamble on a supercard concept called WrestleMania.


    ''F*ck,'' McMahon cursed under his breath. ''If only the steroid issue hadn''t happened,'' he thought.


    All the money had already been spent on the marketing campaign for the Super Bowl and the joint-promotional campaign with MTV.


    Even he admitted that they desperately needed hard cash now!


    Unexpectedly, a savior reached out to him. The only drawback was that he was just as controversial as he himself.


    "Mr. McMahon, it''s a pleasure¡ªRichard Maddox."


    "Ah, Richard. Your name''s come up a few times. You really enjoy walking on the wild side, huh?"


    "Haha, well, not quite on your level, Mr. McMahon."


    "Haha, I see. But you''re certainly not afraid to take your chance."


    The two shared a laugh, their easygoing exchange reflecting their similar mindsets. Both had a knack for stirring things up, and now, with an unspoken understanding between them, it was clear their paths were about to align in the most unexpected ways.


    Richard led McMahon to one of the VIP rooms. He had specifically reserved it for this moment this moment.


    "Haha, I see, I see,"


    "That''s why I said it,"


    "True, it''s all about seizing the moment..."


    For about thirty minutes, he and McMahon sat in the VIP room, their conversation flowing effortlessly, as if there was no tomorrow.


    It wasn''t about business, football, or wrestling. It was simply two people who loved sports, talking about everyday life¡ªjust two individuals, with only their different paths separating them.


    THUD.


    Suddenly, Richard placed his orange juice glass down and turned to McMahon, his expression serious. "Mr. McMahon, let me be clear with you. I am willing to invest in your World Wrestling Federation."


    THUD.


    Using the same gesture, Vince McMahon finally wiped the smile off his face and looked down at Richard, his expression now serious as well.


    "Roughly how much can be invested?"


    Not needing to say much, both men being of the same caliber, McMahon didn''t hold back.


    Richard paused for a moment. "Mr. McMahon, how much do you need? Tell me a figure." He was eager to settle this deal quickly.


    "Even though WWF is low on funds right now, we can still secure a loan from the bank. So, even if I agree to let you buy a stake, I can''t offer you a lot of shares."


    Every negotiation comes with its tricks. McMahon said this because he wanted Richard to invest but didn''t want to sell too many shares at once.


    "No worries," Richard said confidently, playing the role of a newcomer. "Mr. McMahon, how much do you need, and how many shares can you offer me?"


    "I can only offer you ten million for 5% of the shares," McMahon said.


    Richard took a slow sip of his juice. That offer meant McMahon was valuing the WWF at a whopping $200 million¡ªan ambitious figure.


    "Mr. McMahon," Richard leaned forward slightly, "I understand where the numbers come from, but given the circumstances, 5% seems a bit low, doesn''t it? With the steroid scandal, and the fact that your competitor, successfully poached Hulk Hogan from your roster¡ªit says a lot, doesn''t it?"


    McMahon''s jaw tightened at the mention of Hogan''s departure, but he remained composed. "I promise you, I will clear all the accusations. The reputation of this company, of my legacy, is everything to me. I won''t let anything tear it down."


    Richard shook his head, not swayed. "But reputation isn''t the only thing at stake. You''re facing a major challenge. If I''m going to invest, I need to see more than just promises. I need to know your plan to turn this around."


    McMahon sighed, leaning back in his chair before meeting Richard''s gaze again. "I''ll deliver. I''ll make sure the WWF comes out on top. Just give me a little more time and a bit more support."


    After that, McMahon described his concept called WrestleMania, which would be a pay-per-view extravaganza, viewable on closed-circuit television. Not only that, but his vision was to make the WWF, and the entire industry, mainstream¡ªtargeting a broader, general television audience by emphasizing the entertainment aspect of wrestling.


    "Hmmm." Richard was deep in thought.


    Truth be told, he had no real interest in owning WWF shares. Are you kidding me? With so many scandals left and right, being listed as a shareholder would only put a target on his back.


    This steroid scandal was just a preview¡ªa small crack in a dam ready to burst. There were even bigger steroid scandals bound to follow. Not to mention the harassment scandal, which was just like a ticking time bomb, ready to detonate.


    "Mr. McMahon, I''ll be honest with you. I came here with pure intentions¡ªto collaborate, not to fight for control."


    Richard tapped his fingers lightly on the table before continuing, "But let''s face it, things are piling up. So here''s my proposal¡ªI won''t take any shares, but I want a stake in the pay-per-view revenue. Not just a cut from one event¡ªI want a long-term deal. A percentage from every blockbuster show. What do you think?"


    McMahon exhaled sharply. It was bold. Maybe even outrageous.


    "Impossible," he stated in just one word. Their cable TV programming was their prized revenue stream. And Richard wanted a piece of it? ''Absolutely impossible.''


    "Mr. McMahon, don''t be so quick to shut me down. I''m not asking for a cut of Monday Night Raw or your newly launched SmackDown. What I''m after is a stake in the yearly events¡ªlike the WrestleMania you''re planning."


    McMahon leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the table as he carefully weighed the pros and cons.


    A stake in the pay-per-view revenue? That was the WWF''s golden goose. If WrestleMania became a massive success, Richard would be making money off his own company''s biggest event. That alone was a long-term cost he wasn''t sure he could stomach.


    But then again¡­ the cash. That was the reality. And more importantly, he wasn''t asking for shares, which meant he would retain full control of the company. That was a massive plus.


    Seeing McMahon deep in thought, Richard knew he had him on the hook. Swirling his juice in his glass, he leaned in. "Mr. McMahon, let''s say I entertain this idea. I only want a yearly payout¡ªno hassle. So you don''t need to worry about short-term cash flow. Isn''t that a win-win for both of us?"


    McMahon''s fingers stopped tapping. "And how big of a cut are we talking about?" he asked. "And we''ll need clear terms. What exactly qualifies as a blockbuster event? I''m not letting you take a piece of every show we run."


    "No worries," Richard said smoothly. "Like I mentioned, I''m only interested in the events. Or to make it crystal clear¡ªany major event that isn''t part of your regular weekly programming." He paused before raising five fingers. "I want fifty percent."


    McMahon scoffed. "Fifty percent? Forget it."


    Richard was disappointed¡ªhe only wanted to test the waters. "Fine, fine, wrong number. Forty percent?"


    "Ten." McMahon countered harshly.


    "Mr. McMahon, that''s barely anything. Let''s meet in the middle¡ªthirty." sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    McMahon folded his arms. "And what exactly are you bringing to the table for that kind of cut?"


    Richard didn''t hesitate. "Ten million pounds. Upfront."


    McMahon studied him. "You do realize how much that stake could be worth if WrestleMania turns out the way I plan, right?"


    Richard chuckled. "Sure. But has it succeeded yet? It''s still just a plan, isn''t it?"


    McMahon exhaled through his nose, his gaze locked on Richard. The damn kid knew how to negotiate. Rubbing his chin as he considered the offer, he finally said, "Fifteen."


    Richard held his gaze for a moment before playing his trump card. "Mr. McMahon, don''t decide too fast," he said smoothly. "How about twenty percent for ten years? And if I decide to extend, I''ll have to double my initial investment. That ensures more cash flow for you in the future."


    In other words, the deal breaks down to one million per year for ten years. After that, if Richard chooses to extend, it doubles to two million per year for the next decade.


    Now that''s the offer we''re talking about!


    Seeing Richard extend his hand, McMahon hesitated for a moment before finally clasping it firmly. "Welcome to the WWF."


    Richard grinned, satisfied. McMahon had just accepted the deal.


    As long as he wasn''t involved in the day-to-day operations, everything was fine.

 Chapter 44 - 44: Hunting Talent

    Alan Shearer ¨C Striker / Current club: Southampton


    Matt Le Tissier ¨C Attacking Midfielder / Current club: Southampton


    Teddy Sheringham ¨C Striker / Second Striker / Current club: Millwall


    Tony Cascarino ¨C Striker / Current club: Millwall Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Andy Cole ¨C Striker / Current club: Arsenal


    Lee Sharpe ¨C Winger / Current club: Manchester United


    Les Ferdinand ¨C Striker / Current club: Queens Park Rangers


    Ian Wright ¨C Striker / Current club: Crystal Palace


    Graeme Le Saux ¨C Left Back / Current club: Manchester City


    Chris Armstrong ¨C Striker / Current club: Manchester City


    Rob Jones ¨C Right-back / Current club: Manchester City


    Richard had initially set his sights on signing Steve McManaman under his management. However, his plans hit a wall when McManaman''s father adamantly refused.


    "We don''t need an agent," was basically what they said, shutting down any negotiations before they could even begin.


    Richard couldn''t hide his disappointment. That door had closed before it even had a chance to open. But was he truly satisfied with the players under his management?


    Of course not.


    Now was the time to begin his hunt across Europe.


    Richard stood in the arrivals area of Terminal 3, known as the Oceanic Terminal, which handled long-haul routes to the United States and Asia, making it the busiest gateway for overseas travel. This was it¡ªLondon Heathrow Airport.


    "Thanks for dropping me off," Richard said, offering a small smile to Fay, who now looked every bit the corporate elite¡ªtailored suit, polished shoes, and, of course, the signature gold-rimmed glasses that all businessmen seemed to acquire upon promotion.


    Fay, his personal manager at William Hall, had handed in his resignation and climbed the ranks to become Operational Manager at Paddy Power. Despite his fancy new title, he still kept Richard close¡ªhis golden ticket¡ªwho just happened to be a friend.


    "Of course. Good luck with your trip," Fay said with a professional nod, his tone so polished it could''ve come straight from a corporate training video.


    Richard admired him very much. Just look at him¡ªbarely a month into his new job, and he was already walking, talking, and nodding like he owned a hedge fund. Truly impressive.


    With a final handshake and a clap on the shoulder, Richard grabbed his luggage, waved Fay off, and strode forward¡ªready to conquer whatever madness lay ahead.


    First stop: France.


    Zinedine Yazid Zidane, later known as Zidane or Zizou, was born on June 23, 1972, in La Castellane, Marseille, in Southern France.


    Before arriving in Cannes, Richard had to make sure he was prepared. So, during the taxi ride, he kept himself busy reading through Zidane''s data.


    At the age of ten, Zidane bagged his first player license for the junior team of a local club from La Castellane. He perfected his skills on the rough streets of La Castellane in Marseille, France.


    However, his term at the club was short lived and after about one and a half years he was transferred to SO Septemes-les-Vallons.


    His alliance with Septemes, however, lasted for about two and a-half-years, after which he among those selected for a three-day training in Aix-en-Province at the CREPS.


    While training at CREPS, his skills were ascertained by AS Cannes recruiter, Jean Varraud, at a French Football Federation training camp. He was taken in where he spent his next three years, perfecting his skills in the Cannes'' Youth division.


    After playing for the Cannes youth team, 17-year-old Zidane quickly became the focal point of their offense. A rangy midfielder, he possessed exceptional upper-body strength and footwork, complemented by his superior field vision.


    "Sir, we''ve arrived," the taxi driver said in broken English, snapping Richard out of his focus on the papers in his hands.


    "Ah, yes! Sorry about that," Richard said quickly, fumbling for his wallet.


    The taxi driver, an older man with a thick mustache, gave him a knowing look. "First time in Cannes?"


    Richard handed over the cash and chuckled. "Something like that."


    The driver nodded knowingly as he counted the bills. "Well, enjoy it while you can. Cannes may be beautiful, but it can eat you alive if you''re not careful."


    Richard smirked. "Good thing I''m not here for the beaches."


    The driver let out a gruff chuckle, shaking his head as he pulled the lever to pop the trunk. "Suit yourself, mate."


    Stepping out, Richard stretched his arms, feeling the Mediterranean breeze brush against his face. The scent of sea salt mixed with cigarette smoke and freshly baked bread from a nearby caf¨¦¡ª"Ahh," it was unmistakably Cannes.


    The streets were alive, with men in sharp suits and women in oversized sunglasses strolling past luxury cars, their heels clicking against the pavement.


    Richard grabbed his suitcase, adjusted his coat, and took a deep breath. Cannes might be known for its film festival, but for him, it was about something else entirely.


    After renting a hotel room, Richard didn''t waste any time finding Stade Pierre de Coubertin¡ªthe home of Les Dragons.


    However, he had arrived early¡ªan entire hour before his meeting with the Cannes representative. Not that it mattered. It gave him time to look around and take everything in.


    Richard sat on one of the pink concrete benches, taking in the scene around him. Just beyond, charming bungalows lined the streets, their facades evoking the essence of Provence, the land of Marcel Pagnol, Paul C¨¦zanne, and Peter Mayle.


    But what truly caught his attention was happening right in front of him.


    On this narrow strip of pink paving stones, boys played a cramped version of football. There was no space for elaborate wing play, no room for sweeping passes down the flanks.


    ''At the northernmost tip of the crescent-shaped city of France, generations of players have honed their skills on pitches like these,'' Richard thought as he watched. ''A game where the wings don''t exist because they simply can''t¡ªthere''s no space for them.''


    And yet, in these tight, chaotic battles, legends were born.


    The boy looked around 13 or 14 years old, wearing an AC Milan football shirt.


    "Excusez-moi, monsieur," he said politely. "Vous ¨ºtes assis sur notre but." ("Excuse me, sir, you''re sitting on our goal.")


    "Ah? What?" Richard was caught off guard. He didn''t speak French.


    It wasn''t until the AC Milan kid pointed at him and repeated, "Goal, goal!" that Richard finally understood.


    He blinked, glancing around. Only then did he realize¡ªthe pink concrete bench he was sitting on wasn''t just a bench.


    The shabby pink-concrete open space beside him, stretching about 80 yards long and 12 yards wide, was actually just another makeshift pitch.


    "Oh! Okay, okay, sorry." Richard quickly got up, offering a sheepish smile.


    "Patrick, frappe le ballon ! D¨¦p¨ºche-toi !" one of the boys urged impatiently. ("Patrick, kick the ball! Hurry!")


    It seemed the kids were in a hurry, eagerly pushing their little friend forward. At first, Richard paid them no mind. They were just kids, eager to play¡ªnothing unusual.


    But then, the AC Milan kid turned around, and Richard was stunned speechless.


    Because there, on the back of his jersey, printed in bold letters¡ªthough dirty and faded¡ªRichard could still read it clearly.


    4. VIEIRA.


    That impatient kid¡­ he just called him Patrick, right?


    Now, all that was left was to put the pieces together.


    Patrick Vieira.


    For a moment, Richard just stood there, speechless. Could this be fate repaying him for what he had done for the Hillsborough victims?


    For an hour, Richard sat on another concrete bench, busily scribbling notes as he watched Vieira play.


    Not good. Bad, even. Very bad.


    Well, this was just a kids'' game. However, that pace, that strength, willingness to press, that engine¡­ This kid was everywhere. Even Richard had to admit that.


    While the other kids screamed and panted, he remained silent, his breathing steady¡ªalmost effortless. He didn''t complain, didn''t demand the ball¡ªhe simply played, covering every blade of concrete. Richard tapped his pen against his notebook.


    Not bad. Not bad at all.


    The name Richard Maddox, to the English crowd, was synonymous with madness¡ªa crazy, reckless spender. He could be called a controversial figure, even if he never intended to be. His outrageous bets, bluntness, and fearlessness often defied common sense itself.


    In Europe, however, ''Rich Guy.''


    The fact that he bet on the Soviet Union against his own countrymen¡ªand took their money¡ªwas perhaps a bit exaggerated, but that was how Europeans perceived him.


    A smart and bold gambler. After all, in betting, there are always winners and losers, right?


    So, the reception he received in AS Cannes was very good.


    CLICK.


    The sound of a camera shutter echoed through the small office, capturing the moment for posterity. Richard Maddox stood beside Jean-Claude Elineau, the director of AS Cannes, both posing with a ceremonial plaque.


    The polished brass plate gleamed under the office lights, its inscription bold and unmistakable:


    [...For His Generous Contribution of ¡ê100,000 in Support of AS Cannes Youth Development, 1989...]


    Elineau shook his hand firmly, nodding in appreciation. Around them, club officials and young academy players clapped politely.


    "Your support means a great deal to us, Mr. Maddox," Jean-Claude said, his distinct French accent adding a layer of charm to his words.


    In 1989, the euro had not yet existed as an official currency, and France still used the French franc as its official currency. ¡ê1 was equivalent to approximately 10.7886 FRF, which means that Richard''s ¡ê100,000 would have been approximately equal to 1,078,860 FRF¡ªa significant amount for AS Cannes.


    Richard replied with a polite smile. "Well, let''s just say I see great potential in the Cannes youth academy to develop future French talent."


    Elineau''s eyes lit up with satisfaction. "That is precisely our vision," he said, his tone carrying both pride and ambition. "We want to build a foundation for the next generation¡ªplayers who will not only succeed at Cannes but leave a mark on French football."


    Without wasting a moment, Richard swiftly explained his reasons for investing in AS Cannes. When the club officials heard that Richard wanted to meet Zidane, they exchanged uneasy glances, hesitating for a moment.


    No wonder he made the donation¡ªhis intentions must be questionable!


    However, they couldn''t afford to be rude to their benefactor. With heavy hearts, they reluctantly agreed to let Richard meet Zidane, but only under the supervision of his first coach, Jean Varraud. But just as they were about to finalize the arrangement¡ªBANG!


    A loud noise echoed from behind them, and to their surprise, the source was none other than Zidane himself.


    "Putain, comment il ose!" he spat, his frustration evident as he kicked the trash bin once more for good measure. ("Dammit, how dare he!")


    "?a suffit!" ("Enough!") Varraud called out, his voice carrying a sternness that broke through the tension. "Arr¨ºte ?a maintenant! Ce n''est pas comme ?a que tu dois te comporter ici. ("Stop that now! This is not how you''re supposed to behave here.")


    Zidane''s chest heaved as he tried to calm himself. He muttered again, this time quieter, more to himself than anyone else. "C''est dur, coach. Tr¨¨s dur." ("It''s hard, coach. Very hard.")


    Varraud sighed, his gaze softening. "Je sais, mais tu n''es pas seul dans ?a. On est l¨¤ pour t''aider. Mais tu dois apprendre ¨¤ la contr?ler, sinon elle te contr?lera." ("I know, but you''re not alone in this. We''re here to help you. But you have to learn to control it, or it will control you.")


    Zidane nodded reluctantly, though his frustration was far from gone.


    He then kicked the trash once more, sending it flying and causing a mess everywhere, leaving Richard in a daze.


    He then turned toward Elineau, "What are they talking about again?"

 Chapter 45 - 45: Frances Hidden Gems

    Director Elineau asked Richard to wait in the meeting room while he cleaned up the mess or, at the very least, figured out what had happened.


    He had always been very close to Zidane. When he first arrived in Cannes, he remembered that Zidane was originally supposed to stay for only six weeks. Instead, he ended up staying for four years.


    Zidane was incredibly talented¡ªtruly one of a kind. Elineau was thrilled to have found such a gem, but soon, problems arose with the arrival of the young Zidane.


    Just a week after joining the youth team, he was assigned cleaning duties as punishment for punching an opponent who had mocked his ghetto origins.


    Elineau was at a loss. The occasional violence Zidane displayed was actually shaped by an internal conflict of being an Algerian-Frenchman suspended between cultures and surviving the tough streets of La Castellane, where he grew up.


    It was around this time that Elineau realized just how raw and sensitive Zidane truly was. He was quick to anger when insulted about his race or family, and his emotional state was unstable.


    Yet, Elineau was understanding of his struggles.


    The dormitory Zidane shared with 20 other trainees became a source of tension. With no other option, Elineau invited Zidane to leave the dorm and stay with him and his family.


    It was only then that Zidane began channeling his anger into his game, becoming best of the best player in AS Cannes. In fact, they had already planned his debut this year, but Richard''s arrival had thrown all their plans into disarray.


    If Richard wanted him.. could they keep him?


    But soon, Director Elineau realized he had overestimated the situation. Richard hadn''t come as a representative of the city or anything. He was here for himself, as a football agent.


    "Un agent ?" Zidane asked curiously.


    Coach Jean Varraud replied, "Oui, un agent de football. Il repr¨¦sente les joueurs, n¨¦gocie leurs contrats, et les aide ¨¤ g¨¦rer leur carri¨¨re. C''est quelqu''un qui a des connexions dans le monde du football et qui peut ouvrir des portes."


    ("Yes, a football agent. He represents players, negotiates their contracts, and helps manage their careers. He''s someone with connections in the football world who can open doors for you.") S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Zidane seemed a bit skeptical. "Et pourquoi voudrait-il travailler avec moi ? Je ne suis qu''un joueur parmi d''autres." ("And why would he want to work with me? I''m just another player.")


    "Parce que tu as un talent exceptionnel. Les gens comme lui cherchent des joueurs comme toi, des joueurs qui ont le potentiel de faire une grande carri¨¨re." ("Because you have exceptional talent. People like him look for players like you, players with the potential to have a great career.")


    Fifteen minutes passed, and Richard was waiting in the meeting room. There was a TV there, so he was happily watching it. After switching channels, he found one broadcasting in English.


    [...Economy experts warn that a recession could soon be on the horizon. This is predicted to lead to a prolonged economic downturn, with impacts that may be felt for months or even years...]


    "Oh, is it about to begin?" Richard nodded thoughtfully, but before he could say more, the protagonist for today had already arrived.


    Here he is: Zinedine Zidane.


    Richard extended his hand to him. "Hi, Zidane. I''m Richard Maddox. I''ve heard about you and your impressive performances."


    This time, Elineau and Varraud helped as their translators.


    Zidane, still a bit hesitant, shook Richard''s hand. "Thank you, but I''m not sure what you expect from me."


    "No worries," Richard replied calmly. "I''m offering my services because I''ve seen your potential. Here''s what I do and how you can benefit from accepting my offer."


    Richard explained the benefits of accepting his offer as an agent. After that, Richard also showed him all the players that were currently under his representation.


    "The youngest player to score a hat-trick in the English first division, Alan Shearer, is happy with my services. He even scored 9 goals this season, and I managed to secure his first-ever professional contract. There''s also Matt Le Tissier, Teddy Sheringham, Tony Cascarino..."


    Richard proudly shared his impressive roster, showing Zidane the value he could bring to his career.


    Zidane looked at Elineau and Varraud, seeking answers. "Et qu''en pensez-vous, monsieur ? Est-ce une bonne id¨¦e ?" ("And what do you think, Sir? Is this a good idea?")


    Both nodded.


    "Oui, je pense qu''il peut t''aider ¨¤ avancer." ("Yes, I think he can help you move forward.)


    "Mais c''est ¨¤ toi de d¨¦cider." ("But it''s up to you to decide.")


    Hmm, to be honest, he was interested, but Zidane was still hesitant. Wouldn''t that mean leaving Cannes? Was he ready for that?


    After hearing the reason, Richard laughed and reassured him. "No worries, no worries. I''m not going to force you to switch clubs. Now, listen to me." He then turned serious.


    "If you''ve heard about what an agent does, forget all that the moment you work with me. I''m not like them. I won''t force you into anything you don''t want to do¡ªin fact, I''ll be here to help you. So don''t worry. If you ever have ideas or something to say about your club, your manager, or even the media, I''ll be your first shield. You just focus on football."


    Hearing this for the first time, Zidane was surprised. To be honest, the man in front of him wasn''t the first to offer his services, but Sir Elineau, who was always by his side, had always helped filter these people for him.


    When he heard that Richard wanted to meet him, he genuinely thought it would be the same as before¡ªthe offer, the small talk, and then everything fading away. But for the first time, he saw his coach and director truly leaving the decision entirely up to him.


    ''To accept it or not?''


    If what he said was true, then everything was perfect. But you can''t just trust words alone, can you?


    As he realized something, Richard quickly pulled out the contract he had brought with him.


    "Here is the contract. Take your time to review it," Richard said. "Coach Varraud, Director Elineau, you can help Zinedine go through the details of my offer. I''ll give you some time, or..."


    Richard glanced at his watch before continuing, "Let''s do this instead¡ªI''ll come back in a week. By then, I hope you''ll have an answer."


    Coach Varraud and Director Elineau''s impression of Richard became more positive upon hearing this. He was truly just as the rumors said¡ªone of a kind. His approach was entirely different.


    Director Elineau rose from his chair and offered his handshake. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Maddox. Truly appreciate it."


    "Mr. Maddox, thank you very much."


    "You''re welcome, sir."


    After shaking hands with the three of them, Richard hurriedly stepped outside, heading back to the pink concrete bench where he had been before.


    There they were¡ªthe kids were still playing football. Richard sighed in relief, seeing them still enjoying the game.


    Richard rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment. To make a good impression on the kids, it was best not to show up empty-handed, right?


    With that in mind, he headed to a nearby store and stocked up on chocolate spread baguettes and ice cream.


    The kids were still playing football. Some were running around, kicking the ball, while others sat on the sidelines, waiting for their turn.


    Then, out of nowhere, they spotted a man struggling down the street, his arms overflowing with baguettes and ice cream¡ªlike he was carrying half a bakery and an ice cream cart all by himself.


    The way he wobbled, looking like he might drop everything at any second, caught the attention of a few kind-hearted, innocent kids.


    "Hey, regardez ce type." ("Hey, look at that guy,") one of them muttered.


    "On dirait qu''il va tout faire tomber !" ("He looks like he''s about to drop everything!") another whispered.


    "Quel gachis. Aidons-le¡ªpeut-¨ºtre qu''on pourra en avoir une part !" ("Such a waste. Let''s help him¡ªmaybe we can get a share!") one of them suggested.


    Everyone''s eyes lit up upon hearing this. Being good kids, and perhaps a little curious, a few of them ran up to help him. Richard happily followed along with them before placing everything he was carrying onto the concrete bench.


    But just as they were about to leave, Richard grinned and said, "Hey, where are you going? Do you really think I''m going to eat all this by myself?"


    The kids froze.


    "Pour¡­ quoi ?" ("For... what?") one of them asked, eyes wide.


    Richard pointed at the food, then at them¡ªthe message was clear.


    Everyone understood, but they all hesitated. Only one little boy, probably seven or eight, could no longer resist. He had already licked his lips and reached out for an ice cream¡ªuntil his older brother yanked him back by the collar.


    Richard chuckled, waved his hand reassuringly, and handed the ice cream to the little boy, making him light up with pure joy, as if he had just been sent to the moon.


    After that, Richard pointed at each kids, signaling them to take the food in front of them. Only then did the bolder ones gather the courage to take something.


    Food or football?


    Food, of course! In this heat, nothing beats enjoying something refreshing after a game.


    Before long, the pitch was empty, and all the kids had gathered in a circle on the legendary pink concrete bench.


    Soon, Richard casually approached the kid wearing an AC Milan shirt and pretended to recognize him. "Ah, you''re the kid from before!" he said playfully.


    "Oh, vous ¨ºtes cet oncle!" Vieira also said. ("Oh, you''re that uncle!")


    Richard felt completely helpless. He had been trying to communicate with the locals, but his French was limited, and the language barrier was becoming frustrating. After returning, he promised himself that he would hire a team of translators¡ªjust in case.


    "Hey, anyone speak English here?" he called out, waving his hand slightly as he looked around. "Three hundred Franc if you can help translate what I need to say."


    A few people glanced over but quickly turned their attention elsewhere, either uninterested or too busy to help. Richard sighed. Just then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted a young woman walking along the street.


    She was dressed casually, holding a small book in her hand. She looked hesitant, as if unsure whether to approach or not. But after a moment, she stepped forward, her eyes meeting Richard''s.


    She panicked instantly, lowering her head and tugging at the brim of her round hat, which could cover almost her whole face. She then adjusted her black glasses as they slid down her nose. She seemed to want to disappear.


    "You¡ª" Richard began, but then stopped himself, thinking she seemed familiar. However, the young woman quickly cut him off.


    "I... I can help," she said quickly.


    "O-oh, okay?"


    Richard replied, relieved to finally have a translator. His suspicions faded for the moment. Patrick was more important now. "Great! I need you to translate something important for me."


    He handed her his business card and explained his situation. The young woman took the card and began translating it carefully.


    What Richard had said essentially was: "This is my business card. If you or your family ever need anything¡ªwhether it''s money, career advice, education, or anything at all¡ªdon''t hesitate to contact me. Just use fax, postal mail, or telex."


    Patrick''s eyes widened as he listened, but Richard wasn''t finished. He then asked Patrick to take him to his home to meet his family, promising financial support.


    Of course, Patrick had his suspicions, but in the end, the lure of money was too strong. He agreed to take Richard to his home¡ªbut only outside, which Richard readily accepted.

 Chapter 46 - 46: Unpolished Gems

    For Patrick, money was undeniably a powerful influence, given his family''s circumstances. He understood their need for it. However, for his mother, it was a different story. Every franc held significant value to her. This was the situation at Patrick Vieira''s family home.


    The Vieira family lived in a flat in a two-story building overlooking the concrete pitch. It was located in the main square of the cit¨¦, the public housing area in Cannes, France.


    The moment Patrick explained the situation to his wary mother, her demeanor shifted, and she became more welcoming. Soon, she invited Richard and his translator, the young woman whom Mama Vieira assumed was his friend.


    Patrick, his mother, his two siblings, and his grandfather¡ªall gathered together.


    The conversation flowed smoothly as the young woman translated everything Richard said. Richard, meanwhile, observed her closely.


    She seemed highly competent, moving seamlessly from one line to the next, though she hesitated slightly at times, looking up for clarification on a few words. Once she finished, Richard nodded, clearly impressed.


    He then reached into his pocket, pulled out the money, and handed it to the Vieira family, leaving them in shock.


    "Please don''t refuse me just yet," Richard quickly interjected as Vieira''s grandfather was about to decline the offer.


    "Football is football, but education is something else. While I''m willing to sponsor Patrick, I want him to focus and not be distracted by other issues. This money is for daily living and for Patrick and his siblings'' education," Richard said seriously.


    Vieira''s mother was on the verge of tears as she looked at the money, imagining just how much this would help her family.


    Her family wasn''t originally from France; they were from Senegal and had moved to France in 1976. Later, she and her husband divorced, and Vieira and his siblings never saw their father again.


    All her children were granted French citizenship at birth, as their grandfather had served in the French Army. Even their surname, Vieira¡ªwhich is Portuguese¡ªcomes from her family instead, originally from Cape Verde.


    Patrick''s grandfather was a retired army veteran, so naturally, he understood these matters far better when it came to protecting his daughter and all his grandchildren. Without hesitation, he firmly pushed the money back to Richard, refusing to accept it.


    "Take it back. Patrick is too young. We don''t want any problems."


    The moment Richard heard this, he understood. He had already done his homework on the basic laws, especially those in France, before arriving here.


    The adoption of the UNCRC and France''s subsequent ratification played a crucial role in strengthening the legal framework for minors in the years that followed.


    For example, the minimum legal working age in France is 16, meaning anyone under that age, like Patrick in this case, cannot work. No wonder they hesitated to accept his offer. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Mr. Vieira, you''ve misunderstood me. I''m not seeking any legal commitment to bind Patrick to me. What I want to do is..." Allen said to Grandpa Vieira before explaining his intention.


    At the end of the day, his main goal was to persuade Patrick''s family to allow him to focus on football.


    "Patrick isn''t the only one under me. There will be many others his age, and they''ll be able to play together and help each other''s careers grow. Sir and Madame, you probably don''t know this, but Patrick is very skilled in football. I believe in his potential."


    Vieira and Zidane.


    Since both are still young, why not place them in the same academy first? I''ll cover the costs so Patrick can play to his heart''s content. Then, after Patrick Vieira turns 16, he''ll reap the benefits of what we''ve built.


    His daughter, along with her child, depended on him more than ever, but he was already getting older. There were no men left in the family, and now his daughter was the only one providing. The weight of that responsibility was heavy on her shoulders.


    Patrick''s grandfather, however, hesitated. He had heard about football, but as much as he wanted to believe in it, the harsh reality of survival made it difficult to hold onto those dreams. In the end, though, he still rejected the idea.


    Having once served in the French army, he knew how the system worked¡ªhow the laws ran their course. And besides, they weren''t even from the local area. He truly didn''t dare take such a risk.


    Richard felt just as helpless in this situation. If only Patrick were 16, maybe he could do something more concrete, but he couldn''t offer him a contract yet. Still, he didn''t give up; he pushed the money forward.


    "Take this. I hope that when Patrick starts thinking seriously about football, he''ll contact me first. That''s all I ask."


    The Vieira family was touched, but also skeptical. Just how valuable and serious did he really see Vieira''s potential?


    Even Patrick looked at Richard with a serious expression. In the end, the deal fell through, but Richard didn''t lose hope. He understood that building connections was just the first step.


    After leaving Patrick''s house, Richard let out a deep sigh before turning his gaze toward the young woman beside him.


    "Thank you very much for your help. Ah, by the way, the money," Richard said, pulling out the cash he had promised to pay her as a translator.


    The woman hesitated for a moment, but eventually, she took the money.


    "Hey, by the way, may I know your name?"


    Hearing this, the woman instantly became wary and took a step back. Richard realized that his words might have come off a bit too forward, so he stepped back as well, raising his hand in a calming gesture.


    "I don''t have bad intentions. I just need a group of translators, and I wanted to invite you to join. Would you be interested?"


    Rather than answering, the woman quickly tucked the money into her pocket, shook her head, and turned away, leaving Richard speechless.


    Richard stood there, his hand on his cheek, baffled. ''Had he made a mistake? Was he scaring her off?''


    After the episode with the Vieira family, Richard decided to unwind and enjoy some time in Cannes, treating it like a well-deserved holiday. He embraced the city''s vibrant atmosphere and rich cultural offerings with a sense of freedom and relaxation.


    He started by strolling along La Croisette, the famous seafront boulevard stretching 2 kilometers. With its luxury hotels, upscale boutiques, and swaying palm trees, it was the perfect spot for people-watching and soaking in the Mediterranean ambiance, with the sun shining down and the sea breeze in the air.


    Of course, no trip to La Croisette would be complete without a visit to Palm Beach. At the eastern tip of the boulevard, Richard basked in the warm sun, enjoying a peaceful swim in the clear waters, all while taking in the stunning views of the L¨¦rins Islands.


    When it came to food, Richard knew that Cannes had its own unique culinary charm. He wandered through Le Suquet and the bustling Forville Market, savoring the fresh, local produce and the mouthwatering aromas that filled the air.


    He then began to regret not bringing his father and mother here, not anticipating the seven-day delay. If it weren''t for the legend, he probably would''ve rushed straight to Italy.


    Soon, the seven days passed quickly.


    "Zinedine, how is it? Have you made your decision?"


    Zidane nodded, and before that, naturally, as a footballer, he also had some demands. Thankfully, they weren''t difficult demands.


    First, focus and development. This included finding opportunities, guaranteeing regular playtime, possibly securing an early contract, and, if possible, connections to top clubs.


    Richard could help by looking at Coach Varraud and Director Elineau. It seemed they had already been brainstorming hard for this.


    Second, Zidane requested transparency. This meant clear discussions about salary, incentives, and any commissions. Zidane wanted transparency, especially about how much he would earn.


    This also meant that Richard would need to be open with him. For example, if he were linked with and transferred to another club, Zidane wanted to be involved in every negotiation¡ªnot like the usual agent-player dynamic, where the player is left in the dark while the agent negotiates.


    Richard gave him a thumbs-up. As expected of Zidane, harsh life experiences had truly sharpened his mindset.


    "No worries, I promise you," Richard quickly said.


    Third, and most importantly, Zidane was serious when he said, "I want you to show respect for my family. This includes the decision-making process. I want them to be involved and give their input."


    "..."


    Normally, this is common for football players, where families represent them in place of agents, but Richard began to understand why Zidane was so sensitive to this issue.


    "I understand," Richard said solemnly.


    So, the deal was finally made¡ªZinedine Zidane became the first non-English player in Richard''s roster.


    "But I also have requirements," Richard suddenly said, making the pen in Zidane''s hand pause.


    "I want you to start learning English, Spanish, and possibly Italian. No, English and Italian first. You understand what I mean, right?"


    Zidane was stunned. It wasn''t hard to connect the dots. Was he asking him to play in Italy? No, that''s not the right question. ''Can he play in Italy? The best league in the world?''


    If Richard could hear his thoughts, he''d probably grin and say, "It''s not me finding you a club, it''s them coming for you!"


    "I know it may seem like a lot, but as a professional, it''s important for you to communicate with coaches, teammates, and clubs. Don''t expect your career to be limited to just France. With your talent, it would be a waste to restrict yourself here."


    Zidane looked at his coach and, especially, at Director Elineau. Both nodded. What Richard was saying made sense. As a footballer, it didn''t hurt to be prepared.


    "Don''t worry about the cost ¡ª I''ll take care of it. But by this time next year, I expect you to at least be able to hold a daily conversation. Remember, it''s very important for your career."


    The others were still processing it, but in the end, there was nothing to lose with learning, especially since it was free.


    "I understand," Zidane said, nodding thoughtfully. "If it''s for my career, I''ll do it."


    Richard gave a reassuring smile. "Good. This is just another step in making you the best."

 Chapter 47 - 47: Cold Italy

    Nice C?te d''Azur Airport.


    Richard settled into the sleek, lounge, absorbing the quiet hum of travelers around him.


    He sat by a large window, gazing out at the planes that taxied along the runway. The sun was beginning to dip lower, casting an amber hue over the tarmac, and he took a moment to appreciate the view.


    [...Fears of a property market downturn are heightened when it is reported that many homeowners looking to move are cutting the asking price of their homes by up to 20% in an attempt to speed up the sale of their property...]


    The sound of a television speaker echoed through the lounge, and beside him, a couple of businessmen were deep in a heated discussion about the issue.


    The last few years had been prosperous. However, no one could have predicted such a severe recession would hit so quickly.


    For example property market. Just imagine, in the last three years, people bought so much property, only to find themselves now slashing the prices, losing half of their investment. People are going to go crazy.


    In fact, he had already read in the newspaper: House prices in the south of England had fallen for the second consecutive quarter, but were continuing to rise in Scotland and the north of England.


    "Yeah, and not to mention George Soros," Richard muttered.


    And from here, he will make his biggest, most daring move.


    DING


    "Attention, ladies and gentlemen, flight number AZ236 to Venice, Italy, is now ready for boarding at gate 22. We kindly ask all passengers traveling to Venice to proceed to the gate."


    Richard stood, grabbed his carry-on, and made his way toward the gate.


    After showing his boarding pass to the attendant and with the plane soon to take off, he was ready for the next chapter.


    Only, he did not expect Italy to be so unwelcoming.


    Serie A was a symbol of excellence, the heart and soul of Italian football, with AC Milan, Juventus, Internazionale, and Napoli dominating the scene.


    The league featured an impressive blend of tactical mastery, world-class defenders, and attacking stars. Players like Marco van Basten, Franco Baresi, Roberto Baggio, and Diego Maradona were household names, and the competition was fierce.


    Before continuing with his activities as a good agent, of course, Richard had already learned his lesson. So, before going to the stadium, he went to a consultant firm and hired an English-Italian specialist.


    Calcio Padova is an Italian football club based in Padua, in the Veneto region of Italy.


    They have produced some talented players who went on to play for bigger clubs in Italy and internationally. For example, Roberto Boninsegna, a prominent Italian forward, played for Padova before becoming a star at other clubs.


    And why was Richard here?


    To sign a legend before becoming one: Alessandro Del Piero.


    The match was taking place at Stadio Silvio Appiani, nestled in the heart of Padua, Italy, where Calcio Padova was facing off against AC Parma.


    Richard found himself in the stands. Then, the players from both teams entered the field and began their usual warm-ups. However, when he looked at both teams, he couldn''t help but blurt out, "What the f*ck?!"


    Here, Padova is in their white jerseys, sponsored by Tutto, with their proud club emblem shining bright. But there''s one problem ¡ª the one and only Del Piero. ''Why is your jersey different from your teammates?'' Richard thought.


    In other words, Del Piero is playing... as a goalkeeper!!!


    Even with his knowledge of the future, there was no way he could have known every detail, every single one of them, or everything about them. This wasn''t what he had expected. The scene unfolding before him was one of those moments that left him flustered.


    Sure enough, just 13 minutes into the match, Vincenzo Esposito linked up with Aldo Monza, who delivered a perfectly weighted cross into the penalty area.


    Maurizio Ganz, positioned perfectly, met the ball with a header, sending it past Del Piero to give Parma a 1-0 lead.


    Immediately after conceding, Richard saw Del Piero shout at his defender, Stefano Bettella. The two exchanged heated words as frustration mounted.


    No more goals followed, and AC Parma secured a 1-0 victory over Calcio Padova.


    Richard could only shake his head in disbelief. What the hell was going on?


    That day, Richard returned to his hotel, his mind filled with confusion. The next morning, determined to clear up his doubts, he set out early for the hamlet of Saccon, a rural area in San Vendemiano. This was where the Del Piero family lived.


    It was easy to find their home, as it was in the small hamlet of Saccon. Soon, Richard spotted two kids repeatedly kicking a ball against a wall. He guessed that both of them were friends of Alessandro Del Piero, and he was right.


    "Alessandro, immagino sia gi¨¤ andato al lavoro?" one of them said. ("Alessandro, I guess he has already gone to work?"


    Richard looked toward his new translator.


    He said, "Alessandro probably already went to work."


    "Ask him, is it Stadio Silvio Appiani?"


    If he had already gone to the stadium, it meant his efforts for the day were over, and he would have to wait until tomorrow.


    "No, at this hour, Alessandro usually delivers milk to Conegliano."


    Richard was taken aback. ''Delivering milk? Shouldn''t he be training?''


    Giving them a little money, Richard introduced himself and then asked for Del Piero''s house. After making sure he wasn''t a dangerous person, they happily accepted and led Richard to the Del Piero home.


    "Aunt, c''¨¨ qualcuno che cerca Alessandro!" ("Aunt, someone is looking for Alessandro!")


    "Aunt!"


    The two kids shouted, and soon a woman came out. Richard guessed that this was Alessandro''s mother.


    "Oh, Nelson, Pierpaolo, state gi¨¤ facendo confusione cos¨¬ presto al mattino!" ("Oh, Nelson, Pierpaolo, making a fuss so early in the morning,")


    Mama Del Piero said, but she had already heard someone was looking for her son.


    After Nelson and Pierpaolo bid farewell, Richard soon explained his intentions. Mama Del Piero quickly grew enthusiastic¡ªas long as it was something related to her son''s future, she was definitely excited. But there was one thing Richard miscalculated.


    "Impossible!!!"


    Mama Del Piero shook her head and rejected Richard''s suggestion. It all started with the question, "With all due respect, Madam, Alessandro has the qualities of a forward. Why keep him in goal?"


    She hesitated, but her expression remained wary. "And what if he gets hurt? What if he fails? You agents talk about potential, but it''s my son''s future at stake."


    Richard kept his tone respectful. "Madam, I understand that you want to protect Alessandro, but keeping him in goal is holding him back. He has the instincts, the vision, and the talent of a forward. You''re worried about injuries, but football is a physical sport¡ªhe can''t avoid that forever."


    That last sentence felt like the one that sealed the conversation for today.


    Mama Del Piero shook her head. "You don''t understand. He''s still young. Goalkeepers don''t have to run as much, they don''t sweat excessively, and most importantly, they''re less likely to get hurt."


    "I understand your concern, but if he stays in goal, he won''t reach his full potential. A talent like his belongs up front, where he can truly shine."


    Mama Del Piero crossed her arms, firm in her stance. "But it''s safer," she insisted. "The chances of him getting injured are lower. That matters." S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard exhaled, trying to stay patient. "Madam, he deserves to chase his dream¡ªnot just settle for a safe option."


    The discussion was still ongoing, but she didn''t budge despite Richard''s persuasion, even with the money he offered. He sighed at this.


    Parents are deeply involved in their children''s lives, even into adulthood, especially la mamma italiana or the Italian mother, who is well known for being protective and caring. Their famiglia values are truly strong.


    Soon, while Richard and Mama Del Piero were engaged in a heated discussion, a truck pulled over and parked in front of the house.


    "Alessandro, entra in casa! E Stefano, vieni qui subito," Mama Del Piero instructed her two sons.("Alessandro, go inside! And Stefano, come here now.")


    Stefano had never spoken throughout the conversation, but he carefully listened to what was being discussed. At first, he was baffled by Richard''s suggestion, but when Richard pulled out a stack of papers containing scenarios for his brother''s position, he became interested.


    "Posso vederlo?" ("May I see it?")


    Richard nodded toward his translator and then to Stefano.


    At the end of the day, there were no good results for Richard; he was helpless.


    The next day, Richard came once again, but the result was the same as the day before.


    Then the next day, and the next, and the next¡ªuntil finally, Alessandro''s mother couldn''t take it anymore. This time, she called the police, and Richard was arrested for causing a disturbance.


    Thankfully, Richard was not alone and had locals on his side. His translator also had his own ways of handling the situation. It didn''t take long before Richard was bailed out¡ªafter all, he hadn''t done anything wrong.


    Looking back at the rural area of Vendemiano, Richard was reluctant to lose the chance to represent a player who could become one of the world''s highest-paid footballers through salaries, bonuses, and advertising revenue.


    All things considered, he gave up.

 Chapter 48 - 48: Frustrating Italy

    After failing to sign Alessandro Del Piero, Richard certainly didn''t go home right away. The word "failure" wasn''t in his vocabulary¡ªhe refused to return empty-handed.


    His next target was "Pippo"¡ªthe young striker who would one day be known as Filippo "Pippo" Inzaghi.


    Piacenza Calcio 1919, commonly referred to as Piacenza, was an Italian football club based in Piacenza, Emilia-Romagna. At the time, they were playing in the lower divisions, and this was where Inzaghi was honing his craft.


    Richard had seen enough. The skinny young striker from Piacenza wasn''t the strongest, the fastest, or even the most technical, but he had something that couldn''t be taught¡ªan uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time. With the right polishing, he could become a goal machine, just like the Inzaghi of the future.


    Determined, Richard made the trip to Piacenza, arriving at the modest Inzaghi household. Unlike some families he had dealt with before, there was no immediate hostility, no suspicion¡ªjust polite curiosity. Filippo''s father, Armando Inzaghi, and his wife, Marina, welcomed Richard into their home.


    Richard laid out his pitch. "Filippo has a big future ahead of him¡ªbigger clubs, better contracts. With my help, he won''t have to worry about anything except scoring goals."


    This was essentially his message.


    Armando, Filippo''s father, leaned back and asked, "And how many young players have you said this to, signore?"


    Richard smiled. He had expected resistance. "Many. But not all of them have your son''s instincts in the box."


    Armando sighed. "Filippo is still in school. He plays football, but he''s also thinking about university. He''s not going to risk everything for something uncertain."


    Finally, Filippo himself spoke. "I appreciate the offer, signore, but I''m happy at Piacenza. My family supports me, and I don''t want to go to England. I don''t want to rush into something I might regret." S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In other words: "You English people play football like barbarians¡ªboth players and fans. I don''t want to come to England!"


    Richard chuckled. "Filippo, I understand that, but I''m here as your agent, not to convince you to switch clubs. Those are two different things. Piacenza is a good place to start, but you need someone to handle your career."


    Marina, Filippo''s mother, shook her head. "I''ve heard too many stories about young players getting swept up by big promises. I don''t think he needs an agent right now."


    Three against one.


    Richard knew when he was beaten. He could push harder, but it wouldn''t change anything. The Inzaghis weren''t the type to rush into decisions, and Filippo wasn''t about to break away from that mindset.


    With a polite nod, Richard stood up. "Fair enough. But when the time comes¡ªwhen you''re ready to step onto the bigger stage¡ªI''ll be waiting."


    Armando rose as well, shaking his hand firmly. "Grazie, signore. But for now, we do things our way."


    As Richard walked away, he accepted that he had lost this round. But something told him this kid would go far¡ªwith or without him.


    After failing to sign two players, Richard immediately headed to Stadio Romeo Menti, the home of LR Vicenza¡ªan Italian football club based in the city of Vicenza. The club was currently playing in Serie B, part of the Italian football league system.


    The past two seasons had been a major blow for Vicenza. After securing a third-place finish in Serie B, it seemed like they had reopened the doors to Serie A. However, the CAF annulled their promotion due to the club''s involvement in a betting scandal. The setback was so devastating that Vicenza plummeted back into Serie C1. It was only this season that they had managed to climb back to Serie B.


    Richard, while not yet considered a super agent, had already established himself in the industry. He had his own network of contacts¡ªand he knew how to use them.


    This time, his target was a rising star: Roberto Baggio.


    A technically gifted and creative playmaker, Baggio was renowned for his dribbling skills, curling free-kicks, and goal-scoring ability. In the future, he would be regarded as one of the greatest players of all time¡ªbut for now, his fate was uncertain.


    Baggio had suffered a devastating injury¡ªshattering both his anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) and the meniscus in his right knee while attempting a slide tackle against Rimini.


    This injury occurred just two days before his official transfer to Fiorentina was set to be finalized. With serious concerns from team doctors, Fiorentina was now hesitant to proceed with the deal, fearing that Baggio might never play again.


    For Richard, this was an opportunity. If he could make the deal happen, Roberto Baggio would be in his bag. However, Richard underestimated his luck this time.


    Seeing no chance of signing Baggio, Fiorentina''s manager turned to the Italian media for support. His statement to the public was simple:


    "The angels sing in his legs."


    That changed everything, though. The situation quickly became more complicated. In the end, Fiorentina''s board gritted their teeth and retained their faith in him, agreeing to commit to the transfer and fund the required surgery.


    Yes, they not only honored the transfer but also agreed to fund his surgery. This was similar to Richard''s philosophy when running his agency¡ªnurture first, reap later.


    Talent was like a fragile seed. You couldn''t just pluck it the moment it sprouted; you had to water it, protect it, and give it time to grow strong.


    Only then could you reap the rewards. It wasn''t just about signing players and making quick deals¡ªit was about investing in their future, ensuring they had the right support, and guiding them toward greatness.


    Del Piero: Rejected


    Inzaghi: Rejected


    Roberto Baggio: Too late


    Richard still couldn''t believe he would be returning from Italy empty-handed, so his next targets were goalkeeper Gianluca Pagliuca and the talented attacking midfielder Gianfranco Zola.


    Pagliuca''s club, Sampdoria, was on the rise, with a squad filled with young talent and experienced leaders. One of the emerging figures caught in the storm was none other than Gianluca Pagliuca.


    At just 22 years old, Pagliuca was already showing signs of becoming a world-class goalkeeper, but he was still the backup to Sampdoria''s trusted No. 1, Gianluca Bistazzoni. This decision reportedly led to quiet frustrations behind closed doors.


    Different from Pagliuca''s situation, Zola was still an unknown talent outside the lower divisions. He played for Torres, a club based in Sardinia that competed in Serie C1.


    While his passing and playmaking abilities stood out, the club itself had limited resources and struggled to rise through the ranks.


    While waiting for the train to Sampdoria, Richard held a copy of La Gazzetta dello Sport, the most famous and widely read sports newspaper in Italy. Richard flipped through the pink pages one by one.


    The first article covered one of the darkest moments in football history¡ªthe Hillsborough Disaster.


    After that, the proud La Gazzetta wrote about AC Milan, especially their dominance in Europe.


    Managed by Arrigo Sacchi, AC Milan''s squad truly made people die of envy. With Marco van Basten, Ruud Gullit, Frank Rijkaard, Paolo Maldini, Alessandro Costacurta, Francesco Toldo, Marco Simone and Franco Baresi, why not just hand them the trophy already?


    Because of AC Milan''s success, especially with three of its key players being Dutch, the newspaper paid special attention to the Netherlands. They even made the headline, "Dutch Football on the Rise," led by Marco van Basten, Ruud Gullit, and Frank Rijkaard.


    Still in Italy, Diego Maradona led Napoli to their second-ever Serie A title and won the 1990 UEFA Cup, defeating VfB Stuttgart in the final with a 5-4 aggregate score, marking the peak of his time in the country.


    Outside Italy, Barcelona won the UEFA Cup Winners'' Cup¡ªJohan Cruyff''s Barcelona defeated Sampdoria 2-0 in the final, with goals from Julio Salinas and Luis L¨®pez Rekarte.


    Then, in England, Arsenal''s last-minute title victory made headlines. They won the First Division in dramatic fashion by defeating Liverpool 2-0 at Anfield on the final day of the season.


    And finally, as a closing highlight, two equally important stories:


    The Political and Economic Instability of the Soviet Union¡ªRussia, Ukraine, Georgia, and the Baltic states were pushing for independence, making it clear that the USSR wouldn''t last much longer.


    Richard closed the newspaper before standing up. His train was coming. However, before that, he couldn''t help but think about the Soviet Union.


    If he remembered correctly, the 1990 FIFA World Cup would be the last major tournament for the Soviet Union before Russia was officially recognized as its successor in football.


    Richard arrived at Stadio Luigi Ferraris, home of Sampdoria, with confidence. But by the time he reached the hotel the next day, he was deflated, filled with disappointment.


    He knew that at the peak of his career, Gianluca Pagliuca would soon join Inter Milan for a world-record fee of ¡ê7 million for a goalkeeper.


    This was precisely why Richard remembered him so clearly¡ªhe saw Pagliuca as a golden opportunity, with the potential financial gain only fueling Richard''s desire to sign him.


    However, there was a crucial factor at play. The Italian football system deeply valued tradition, and aligning with a foreign entity could feel like a betrayal of the very culture that had nurtured their talent.


    For Pagliuca, it was no longer about money or career¡ª it was about staying true to his Italian roots. He rejected Richard''s offer because he didn''t want to lose that identity.


    Moreover, it was widely known that foreign agents often misunderstood the intricacies of the Italian market. Many were seen as more interested in making money than advancing the careers of players, rendering Richard powerless.


    The next is Stadio Acquedotto, the home of Torres in Sasari. Richard come here for Gianfranco Zola. This time he was polie and cautious to make his first impression better.


    "You don''t even understand football. What makes you think you can guide my son''s career?"


    it was a slap.


    Ricahrd took a deep breathe.


    "Sir--"


    "enough!"


    this time zola''s father looke toward richrard trasnlator and ask him to ranslate it clearly.


    " "I''ve heard enough stories of foreign agents. Some flashy deal with foreign clubs? You don''t even understand the market here in Italy. Even if zola leaves, it will be on his terms, not because of some deal you''ve cooked up."


    Italians have a strong sense of national pride, especially when it comes to football. their robust domestic football, making all of them feel superior especially from a country like England, which might not have been held in the same esteem as Italian football.


    English football was seen as less refined, more aggressive, and focused on physicality rather than the technical mastery that Italian football emphasized.


    There was skepticism and a strong sense of self-reliance, where footballers were fiercely independent and preferred to handle their own careers or stick with local agents, especially in this case.


    The "Foreign Agent" stereotype, or the idea of an Italian player being represented by a foreign agent, was unheard of and, to be honest, a controversial concept.


    They feared that being associated with someone outside of the local environment could harm their career or even make them seem less genuine to their fans.


    This perception was reinforced by the fact that Italian clubs were dominating European competitions, while English clubs were still recovering from the ban after the Heysel disaster.


    So, just like Pagliuca, Zola¡ªdespite coming from a smaller club like Torres¡ªmay have felt that he was better off sticking with a more familiar environment rather than joining forces with an outsider.


    Richard didn''t say a word. He glanced at his translator, muttering something under his breath, before standing up and walking away without bothering to bid farewell.


    He also had his own pride.


    Italy? Serie A? Let''s see then.

 Chapter 49 - 49: Fired

    The 1989/1990 season finally came to a close.


    Before returning to England, Richard made one last attempt to sign Francesco Toldo from AC Milan. The current Milan squad already has three established goalkeepers: Francesco Antonioli, Giovanni Galli, and Andrea Pazzagli.


    Based on their current performances, it seems unlikely that fourth-choice Toldo will get his chance for the next four or five years. However, Richard was helpless once again, as Italy''s tight-knit, family-first culture blocked his path, making it impossible for him to sign even a single Italian player for his books.


    With no other choice, Richard decided to return to England empty-handed from Italy.


    Arsenal clinched the league title in dramatic fashion, with a late goal from Michael Thomas securing a 2-0 away win over Liverpool. This victory marked their first league championship in 18 years.


    Meanwhile, Newcastle United endured a disastrous season, finishing bottom of the league after five years in the First Division. They were relegated alongside local rivals Middlesbrough and a West Ham United side that had nearly won the league title just three years earlier.


    Liverpool triumphed in the FA Cup, defeating Everton 3-2 at Wembley. Ian Rush, who had returned to Anfield the previous summer after a year at Juventus, scored twice in the final.


    Brian Clough''s Nottingham Forest ended a nine-year trophy drought, beating holders Luton Town 3-1 to win the League Cup. They also captured the Full Members'' Cup, edging Everton 4-3 in the final after extra time, having come from behind twice.


    Bolton Wanderers claimed their first major trophy since the 1958 FA Cup, overcoming Torquay United 4-1 in the Associate Members'' Cup final.


    Before the domestic season truly came to an end, a shocking, thrilling match sent shockwaves through the entire English football community.


    Crystal Palace staged an incredible comeback, overturning a 3-1 deficit to defeat Blackburn Rovers 4-3 on aggregate, earning promotion to the First Division after an eight-year absence.


    Moving on to the national team, the fans of the Three Lions saw their frustrations begin to ease as the team prepared for their World Cup qualifying campaign.


    David Rocastle, Paul Gascoigne, and Tony Cottee earned their first international caps for England in a 1¨C0 friendly win over Denmark at Wembley.


    England''s World Cup qualifying campaign kicked off with a goalless draw against Sweden in Group 2 at Wembley.


    The team then drew 1¨C1 with Saudi Arabia in a friendly in Riyadh, with goalkeeper David Seaman making his international debut.


    England secured their first wins of the World Cup qualifying series, defeating Albania 2¨C0 in Tirana and 5¨C0 at Wembley. Substitute Paul Gascoigne scored his first international goal in the latter match.


    The two positive results set the stage for even more success, as England went on to beat Poland 3¨C0, marking three consecutive wins after their draw with Sweden.


    As for City, when the season began, the club had an ambitious roadmap.


    The newly promoted City spent almost ¡ê2m in the summer, bringing in Clive Allen from Bordeaux, Ian Bishop from Bournemouth, and Gary Fleming from Nottingham Forest.


    Mel Machin recouped ¡ê725,000 with the sale of Wayne Biggins and Ian Scott to Stoke, and Paul Moulden to Bournemouth.


    City opened the season at Liverpool, but despite a good performance by Mel Machin''s team, they suffered a 3-1 defeat. The next match was even less impressive, as they lost 2-1 against Southampton.


    Their first point of the season came in a 1-1 draw against Tottenham at Maine Road. However, another defeat, 2-1 at Coventry, meant that The Blues had taken just one point from a possible twelve.


    A first win of the season came with a 1-0 victory at home against QPR, but that was quickly forgotten as the next match saw them lose again, 1-0 in their third consecutive away loss, this time at Wimbledon.


    Things didn''t get any better for Mel Machin in the Littlewoods Cup, as The Blues were beaten 2-1 at Brentford in the first leg of the second round.


    The next match? Manchester United.


    You could well understand the trepidation of the City fans as the Manchester Derby at Maine Road loomed on the horizon.


    This was also the first match Richard attended this season, and his first derby as a Manchester City shareholder. The result?


    Maine Road witnessed one of the most amazing derbies as City ended up 5-1 winners. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The Blues carried on the momentum into their next home game, beating Luton 3-1. After that, they won three matches in a row, with the last being a 4-1 victory over Brentford at Maine Road.


    City fans were elated, their confidence was high, but they were brought back down to earth at Highbury, where they were beaten 4-0 by Arsenal.


    With the first half of the season done, City stood in 14th position after nine games, just four points above the relegation zone.


    City lost again a week later, suffering a 2-0 defeat at home to Aston Villa. However, in the Littlewoods Cup 3rd Round, the Blues pulled off an impressive 3-1 victory at Maine Road to eliminate Norwich.


    A solid 1-1 draw at Chelsea followed, before City bounced back with a 3-0 home win over Crystal Palace. Just as things seemed to be improving, the wheels fell off as Mel Machin''s team were humiliated in a 6-0 defeat at Derby.


    The glaring issue was clear this time: defense.


    Colin Hendry was brought in for ¡ê750,000 from Blackburn to try and shore up the defence, however City lost again, 3-0 at home to Nottingham Forest and were now second from bottom of the league.


    The final nail in the coffin for Mel Machin came in the next match when City suffered a 1-0 home defeat to Coventry in the Littlewoods Cup 4th Round.


    This time, Richard couldn''t stay silent. He called an EGM, directly addressing the poor performance of City.


    One of the advantages of being removed from day-to-day operations, yet still holding a large stake in the club, was the ability to oversee without getting caught up in the daily struggle. In short, Richard is the only one who has the right to flip the bird to anyone on the board.


    "What the hell are you doing here?! Are you telling me this is how City is supposed to perform?!" He pointed his finger at every board member, his frustration boiling over.


    "Almost three million pounds spent, and we''re still staring relegation in the face?!" Richard slammed the papers on the table, pointing to every mistake. "Look at this!" he shouted, moving to the next page. "And this!" He kept going, finally pointing at the disastrous strategies, including the botched transfer decisions.


    The room fell silent as the papers scattered, the weight of his anger hanging heavy in the air.


    The faces of current chairman Peter Swales, president Joe Smith, vice-president Simon Cussons, vice-president John Humphreys, and vice-president Sidney Rose darkened. Not only had they never been scolded, but when had anyone dared shout at them like this?


    "Mr. Maddox, this is the boardroom, please show some respe¡ª"


    "You''ve failed the club," Richard cut off whatever Swales was about to say. "You failed me. I trusted your competencies to run the club, and most importantly, YOU FAILED THE FANS!" He stood up abruptly and pointed at Swales, leaving him speechless.


    "Especially you." Richard finally toned down his voice, but everyone could feel the tension building¡ªeveryone knew how dangerous his next words would be.


    "You. Yes." He pointed at the current manager, Mel Machin. "I said your transfers went wrong. You spent ¡ê700,000 on a brick wall, and you ignored me, and you." Richard shifted his finger to point at his assistant manager.


    Was clearly pointed out by Richard, which made the assistant manager furious. But he didn''t dare to retort. After all, he had failed to deliver.


    Richard sneered. "And where is this Greenwich Borough anyway, right? This is what you told me before, right? Fine. Let me show you."


    Richard picked up a document from the table and practically threw it in his face. "That Ian Wright you dismissed because he played in some lower-league club¡ªhe''s scored nine goals and helped bring Palace back to the First Division via the playoffs! And he only played half the season!"


    After Richard brought Ian Wright to trial at Crystal Palace, it didn''t take long for him to impress then-manager Steve Coppell. In fact, he joined the first squad just three months after his trial began.


    Despite only playing in the second half of the season, Ian Wright quickly made his mark, scoring nine goals in his first season.


    He finished as Palace''s second-highest scorer and established a successful striking partnership with Mark Bright, the current main striker of Crystal Palace.


    "Get out."


    The room fell silent, stunned by this words.


    "Get out of here!" Richard''s voice rose. "Let''s do a vote, right here, right now! The current manager doesn''t have the capacity to manage Manchester City. We''ve spent millions, and we''re still heading toward relegation. This is beyond unacceptable."


    He then turned to the board, warned them. "You''re supposed to be running this club, making decisions that matter. But instead, we''ve been stuck in mediocrity. How much longer are we going to let this circus continue? I expect you to make the right decision... and fast."


    Peter Swales had initially intended to sack Mel Machin, but Richard''s outburst changed everything.


    He felt his position as chairman was being directly challenged, and while he wanted to assert his authority, he didn''t anticipate that the support he believed he had would backfire.


    Vice Presidents Simon Cussons, John Humphreys, and Sidney Rose all raised their hands in support of non-executive shareholder Richard Maddox.


    On the opposing side were Chairman Peter Swales and President Joe Smith.


    4-2 vote in favor of Richard.


    In the end, the decision to dismiss the current manager, something that could have been delayed, was forcibly made¡ªand it was Richard Maddox who had the final say.


    -----


    The next volume includes: The anti-Swales campaign, death threats, and Francis Lee''s takeover bid, all of which shook the club to its core. In this volume, you can expect three major events.


    First, Richard sets up his first company and rides the wave of the dot-com bubble.


    Second, the Bosman ruling is applied, including the legal battle that took it to the European Court.


    Third, Richard fails in his bid for City due to an agent-ownership issue before he finally has enough when City drops to the third tier for the first time in its history.

 Chapter 50 - 50: Its Not Fair

    Managerless City then drew 1-1 at Charlton, and shortly after the game, Mel Machin''s departure was officially announced.


    In their next match, the Blues suffered a 3-2 loss to Nottingham Forest in the Zenith Data Systems Cup, followed by a 4-1 defeat at home to Liverpool and a 2-1 loss at Southampton.


    These results left them rock bottom of English First Division after 17 games.


    The ship needed to be steadied as soon as possible, and out of nowhere, City announced their new manager¡ªa decision that even Richard himself hadn''t seen coming.


    The choice fell on Howard Kendall, leaving Richard truly perplexed by the City board''s decision.


    Kendall had left Everton in the summer of 1987, frustrated by the European ban on English clubs, to take charge of Athletic Bilbao in Spain. However, his time at Bilbao wasn''t exactly a success.


    While he managed to guide Athletic to a respectable fourth place in La Liga in his first season, their performance significantly declined afterward.


    There were persistent rumors that Kendall would be the next England manager when Bobby Robson eventually departed, but no one expected him to accept the City job.


    Kendall, the new manager, signed Alan Harper for ¡ê150,000 from Sheffield Wednesday. Not only that, he also immediately brought in Peter Reid from QPR as Player-Coach, which gave Richard a headache.


    Why do both Kendall and Machin like to sign player-coaches?


    Kendall was certainly beginning to stamp his own ideas at Maine Road. The new regime made an immediate impact, with Kendall securing a credible 0-0 draw against Everton at Goodison Park.


    The improvement continued over Christmas, as City beat Norwich 1-0 at Maine Road on Boxing Day.


    City then strengthened their squad further by bringing in Mark Ward from West Ham in a ¡ê2 million deal, which saw Ian Bishop and Trevor Morley move to Upton Park.


    Ward made an impressive home debut as The Blues beat Millwall in FA Cup first leg 1-0. However, in the next match, Kendall suffered his first defeat on New Year''s Day as City lost 2-0 at Sheffield Wednesday.


    Despite this setback, the Blues'' position in the league continued to improve as they moved three places clear of the bottom.


    The next challenge came in the FA Cup second leg, where Millwall made a comeback, overturning a 1-0 deficit from the first leg to defeat the Blues 3-1. Following their FA Cup exit, City could now focus on escaping the relegation zone.


    They earned a creditable 1-1 away draw against Tottenham, followed by a 1-0 win at home to Coventry, and another 1-1 draw against Manchester United at Old Trafford. They also managed a 1-1 draw at home to Wimbledon, which saw them rise to 4th from bottom after 25 games.


    City then beat Aston Villa 2-1 at Villa Park and drew 1-1 against Millwall at The Den, leaving them four points above the relegation zone with just six games to play.


    Thankfully, they secured crucial victories, winning 3-1 at QPR and 2-1 at home to Sheffield Wednesday. On Easter Monday, City won 1-0 at Carrow Road against Norwich, putting their relegation fears to rest.


    The fans showed their full adulation for Kendall''s rescue of the club. During the final eight unbeaten games, the Kippax Stand adopted Blue Moon as their new anthem.


    The season ended with a 1-0 home win against Everton, followed by a 1-0 home defeat to Derby.


    In the last game of the season, City drew 2-2 against Crystal Palace at Selhurst Park, sparking an uproar among City fans as a revelation came to light.


    After the game, one of City''s shareholders, Richard Maddox, stepped down from the director''s box and directly hugged Ian Wright, congratulating him right in front of City fans!


    The media, ever eager for a sensational story, jumped on the moment. Headlines blared with the picture of Richard in a celebratory hug with Wright¡ªCity''s potential future striker¡ªamidst a backdrop of confused and curious supporters.


    ''Was City moving behind the scenes to bring in Ian Wright o their camp?''


    The photos were everywhere, with some speculating on the nature of Maddox''s connection to the player.


    Finally, the next media launched an article that sent City fans into an uproar.


    The article revealed that striker Ian Wright had Richard Maddox, one of City''s shareholders, as his agent!


    Not only that, many reporters seemed eager to corner Ian Wright, firing questions like, "Are you planning to move to Manchester City in the near future?"


    Ian responded calmly, "Never. I''ll stay at Crystal Palace."


    Then one reporter asked, "What''s your connection with Mr. Richard Maddox?"


    Ian simply smiled, knowing Richard had already given him clear instructions. He replied, "He''s my agent."


    BOOM!


    City fans were furious, but Richard wasn''t afraid.


    As expected, the first to approach him was The Official Magazine of Manchester City, the same publication that had informed him when he was dismissed from his director title.


    When asked about the Wright saga, he didn''t mince words. "City had their chance. They didn''t want him, and now look at him. Ian Wright has turned into one of the most exciting strikers in the country. It''s frustrating, but it''s also a part of football. Not every decision goes as planned."


    Richard finally showed his stance! Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    City was turned upside down. The revelation didn''t sit well with the board. To navigate the tricky situation, they now had to explain these failed decisions.


    Mel Machin, the former manager, became the scapegoat, but he wasn''t the only one taking the heat. The current youth manager, Tony Book, and head scout Ken Barnes also found themselves in the firing line.


    This marked the beginning of increased scrutiny from Manchester City fans as they questioned why Richard Maddox, who was so keen on spotting talent, had been pushed out of the club''s management roles.


    This sparked a wave of investigations from die-hard fans, who dug into Richard''s past activities.


    What they uncovered was truly astonishing: nearly all the players under him were on fire.


    Ian Wright ¨C Crystal Palace: 9 goals, 4 assists.


    Alan Shearer ¨C Southampton: 3 goals in 26 appearances, but recognized for his strength, which enabled him to retain the ball and create opportunities for teammates.


    Matt Le Tissier ¨C Southampton: 6 goals in 24 league games, including a hat-trick against Leicester City.


    Teddy Sheringham and Tony Cascarino ¨C Millwall: Both scored 15 goals each, making them the joint top scorers for Millwall with a combined total of 30 goals. This record also helped propel Millwall to promotion.


    Les Ferdinand ¨C Queens Park Rangers: 2 goals in 9 appearances.


    Andy Cole ¨C Arsenal: 0 goals in 1 appearance.


    Lee Sharpe ¨C Manchester United: 0 goals in 30 appearances. Although he failed to score, the fact that he made 30 appearances was significant. Not only that, but he was also shortlisted for the PFA Young Player of the Year award, which he lost to Arsenal winger Paul Merson.


    City fans grew restless; they began to question everything.


    Why? Why? And WHY?!


    Some calls for a fresh start, a new direction, and better decision-making grew louder. Richard''s name began to echo as fans demanded the City board bring him back into management roles.


    Richard, however, was busy preparing. Before the 1990/1991 First Division season began, the UK was hit by several significant events.


    The Burns'' Day Storm struck, with hurricane-force winds killing 39 people across England and Wales. 500,000 homes were left without power, and severe flooding affected both England and West Germany.


    During this time, Richard made headlines by donating another million pounds to the victims, receiving praise from the public and even political figures for his generosity.


    Next, the UK and Argentina restored diplomatic relations after eight years. These ties had been severed following Argentina''s invasion of the Falkland Islands in 1982.


    Following that, the pound sterling joined the European Exchange Rate Mechanism, and the Broadcasting Act came into effect. This act made the bidding process for independent television franchises more commercially driven while relaxing the regulations on television and radio broadcasting.


    Not long after the announcement, British Sky Broadcasting (BSkyB) was founded through a merger between Sky Television and British Satellite Broadcasting.


    In football, Bobby Robson announced he would not be renewing his contract as manager of the England national football team after the World Cup in Italy that summer.


    UEFA lifted the ban on English football clubs in European competitions, five years after all teams were excluded due to the Heysel disaster.


    Finally, the long-awaited FIFA World Cup, Coppa del Mondo Italia ''90.

 Chapter 51 - 51: The Roar of African Football

    Since this was the first major event after joining Paddy Power, Fay, now the operational manager of the company, immediately contacted Richard to ensure they made a splash.


    Richard had already spent ¡ê50,000,000 on two buildings in Mayfair. Additionally, he invested ¡ê10,000,000 in WWF and another ¡ê10,000,000 for family use, including his brother''s tuition for Oxford.


    After all of these expenses, the total cash Richard had left to work with was ¡ê29,000,000, following his generous contributions to the storm victims.


    "How about this, Richard? Let''s place bets on which teams will progress from each group. What do you think? Let''s start with something safe," Fay suggested.


    Fay, who had been aggressive at the start, now seemed much more cautious as the World Cup arrived.


    Of course, this was his first big event, and his role as the operational manager was relatively stress-free, so by the time D-Day came, he couldn''t help but feel a bit apprehensive.


    He then pulled Richard aside to discuss which teams would advance from each group. With twenty-four teams, two from each group, plus the four best third-place teams, would progress, totaling sixteen teams for the knockout stages.


    Italy were one of the favourites to win the tournament, along with Argentina, England and West Germany. Costa Rica, the Republic of Ireland and the United Arab Emirates made their debut, while Egypt and the United States made their return after a long absence. Previous finalists France failed to qualify.


    To be honest, Richard could barely recall the details of the group matches, except for the knowledge of the shocking results that would later unfold.


    Group B: Argentina, Cameroon, Soviet Union, Romania


    And his pick?


    "Cameroon," Richard said, making Fay look at him like he was insane.


    "Monster, monster," Eric muttered under his breath, still in disbelief.


    Of course, it wouldn''t be fun if Richard didn''t pull in his connections for some betting action. So, Eric Hall joined him and Fay, heading to Paddy Power together.


    "You''re off your rocker, mate," Eric muttered under his breath. "Cameroon? Are you having a laugh? You might as well pick Argentina¡ªthey''re a dead cert to get through. If you''re gonna roll the dice, at least take Romania¡ªthey''ve got a far better shot than Cameroon. What are you thinking?


    It was Eric''s first time joining Richard in a bet. Initially, he was reluctant, but the whole thing intrigued him.


    They''d said this guy was skilled and crazy when it came to betting. Now, he was witnessing it with his own eyes¡ªthis guy was on an insane rollercoaster ride.


    Eric also joined and placed his bet, but he stuck with the safe choice¡ªEngland. The only real challenge in their group, he thought, would be the Netherlands.


    Richard clicked his tongue at his choice. ''Hadn''t he learned from the Euros last time?'' But he didn''t remind him.


    The D-Day of the World Cup, In a casual setting inside a Paddy Power betting shop, a giant sign is raised high.


    Richard stands at the center with a huge grin, holding a giant stack of cash, saying, "I told you Cameroon would shock the world."


    Below it, in italic and with an arrow pointing directly at Richard''s face: Bet on the unexpected. When everyone says ''No,'' he says ''Surely.'' Now, what''s your choice? The odds: 1:10''


    ''Crazy!'' people screamed in their minds.


    This is Argentina we''re talking about!


    As the Argentina vs. Cameroon match kicked off, the lounge at Paddy Power was packed to the brim. It got so crowded inside that they had to set up another television outside the shop, just to accommodate the growing crowd.


    "Cameroon over Argentina, yeah? What''s going on there, then?"


    Unable to hold it in any longer, Eric finally asked the question he was most curious about. Even Fay perked up, eager to hear the answer.


    The villain of the day, of course, was Richard, with his ¡ê10,000,000 bet on Cameroon, causing an uproar all over London.


    Richard clearly prepared for the question. "Although Argentina had a luxury squad, they lacked competitive action and were overconfident going into this match."


    He then pointed toward the screen, where Diego Maradona was juggling the ball around the center circle after exchanging handshakes with rival captain Stephan Tataw. Such a show of arrogance would be La Albiceleste''s undoing.


    "See? How could they show that kind of arrogance toward a team that beat Tunisia in the playoffs with a 3-0 aggregate victory? Cameroon will catch them off guard," he said, challenging the crowd.


    "Shouldn''t it be normal? They''re facing Cameroon, right?" someone in the crowd muttered, shaking their head.


    "African football? Come on, mate, no one takes that seriously." One man near the back scoffed.


    "I think this is the start of him losing his ten million, I guess."


    "He clearly forgot which team crashed out in the group stage, behind Zambia and Senegal, at the AFCON," another football die-hard chimed in, dropping the facts.


    Richard shook his head, not wanting to comment. What mattered was that he had already fulfilled his deal with Paddy Power¡ªto provoke the crowd into betting. Sure enough, people flocked toward the green counter, making the cashier happy.


    One team was overconfident, while the other had to treat this match as a do-or-die situation. Let''s see how things unfold.


    The tournament kicked off at the iconic Stadio San Siro in Milan, setting the stage for what would become one of the most memorable World Cups in history.


    Diego Maradona, widely regarded as the best player of all time, was the focal point of everyone''s attention as he took center stage at the start of the 1990 World Cup, a month-long global tournament.


    ''If everything goes as expected,'' Richard thought to himself, ''this match will likely be remembered as the greatest upset in World Cup history, and one that put African football on the map.''


    Cameroon arrived in Italy with a squad mostly composed of journeymen from France''s lower leagues. No one expected them to do anything other than be overpowered, especially by the reigning champions. But on a warm Milan evening, Cameroon torched the odds.


    It was not a great game.


    The first half was mostly about Argentina asserting their dominance with attack after attack. A goal then might have settled the holders. As it was, but they became unsettled by Cameroon''s close marking and hard tackling, and never got their act together thereafter.


    From the start, Omam-Biyik''s willingness to run at a retreating defense looked like it would cause Argentina problems. Not only that, Cameroon unbelievably had more skill on the ball than their supposedly superior opponents.


    There was little hint of a shock at the start, which was an anticlimax after all the hype.


    A couple of touches from Maradona might have given Argentina two goals, had N''Kono, keeping goal instead of the more experienced Bell, not somehow blocked the danger.


    Midway through the first half, Burruchaga was just able to flick the ball away from an empty Argentina net after Omam-Biyik had caught them square with an early through ball.


    Seven minutes before half-time, the same player produced a sudden shot from a narrow angle that nearly went in under Argentinian goalkeeper, Pumpido''s body.


    In the first half, things were still calm before the storm, with neither team making significant progress, just back-and-forth attacks. However, in the second half, especially in the 61st minute, everything changed.


    Andr¨¦ Kana-Biyik''s trip on Caniggia was initially thought to be just a yellow card.


    Even the television commentator said, "That is definitely a 100 per cent yellow card¡­ oh, he''s gone red!"


    Upon hearing the red card decision, people in the crowd were stunned, standing still as they carefully observed the situation.


    "The Argentinians have been getting kicked, and maybe he was looking for an opportunity to send a message, but he''s chosen the wrong one. It''s just cynical ¨C he allows the legs to tangle," the commentator explained after the replay.


    Michel Vautrot might have been harsh in giving his verdict on the red card, but he had little choice but to follow FIFA''s newly implemented guidelines for ultra-strict arbitration.


    Everyone looked in Richard''s direction, gloating. Now it''s 10 vs 11¡ªhow could Cameroon win? They began to imagine the wild scenario of Richard losing his ten million pounds.


    Argentine footballers are known for their strong bonds, built on trust and understanding, which leads to excellent coordination and chemistry on the pitch. This unity means that when one player is attacked, the others are quick to step in and retaliate.


    When things aren''t going well, the entire team stands together in defense. Just like when Messi was attacked¡ªevery Argentine player, from striker to goalkeeper, stepped forward to defend him.


    But Cameroon wasn''t a pushover either.


    "What is this? Is this how Africans play football?" people shouted as they watched a Cameroon player kick Maradona''s calves.


    Indeed, Cameroon neutralized Maradona mainly by kicking him.


    Even Richard couldn''t help but give them a thumbs-up. Not only Maradona, but even his 10 teammates seemed too stunned to cause any trouble because they were kicked as well.


    Pweeeehh!


    Vautrot raised his hand and showed a yellow card to Victor N''Dip.


    Richard scanned his surroundings, watching people curse the Cameroon player and show their support for Argentina.


    He shook his head. Argentina was destined to lose today.


    From what he saw, everything was under control, until Cameroon went down to 10 men. Even Richard didn''t know how to describe it, but Argentina right now was very disorganized. And the evidence came six minutes after Cameroon went down to ten men on the pitch.


    Cameroon scooped a free-kick into the penalty area. Cyrille Makanaky flicked it on, and Omam-Biyik rose unfeasibly high, while his nominal marker, Nestor Sensini, hesitated.


    Time seemed to slow down at that moment.


    His header flew low towards goal, though neither very hard nor very far from the goalkeeper, but Nery Pumpido, the Argentine number one goalkeeper, seemed very heavy and had a hard time reaching the ball. Unavoidably, the ball went into the net.


    "GOOOOAAAALLLLL!!! Fran?ois Omam-Biyik with a header!!! Argentina is trailing by one goal!!!"


    People were stunned before roaring, "How is it possible?!"


    67th minute: Argentina 0¨C1 Cameroon.


    Time passed, reaching the 77th, then the 87th minute, and at exactly the 88th minute, another incident occurred.


    It was something of a festival of simulation, during which neither Caniggia nor Benjamin Massing became known for their refusal to go to ground under any challenge. However, with his side trailing and time running out, Caniggia stayed on his feet only to face a brutal, imprecise tackle that came flying in, emphatically delivered by Benjamin Massing.


    The assault sent the tackler''s right boot¡ªand possibly a few body parts¡ªflying across the pitch, earning Cameroon their second red card of the day.


    "Second red card!" the commentator exclaimed as he watched the replay, describing it as "a full-pelt, waist-high, horizontal flying bodycheck."


    This is why people love football¡ªthe unpredictability of the game.


    You never know what will happen next, and the thrill of the unexpected keeps fans on the edge of their seats, making each match a unique and unforgettable experience.


    "CAMEROON! CAMEROON!! CAMEROON!!!" The whole stadium was shouting for Cameroon


    "Wasn''t that nice?" the commentator said, before falling silent, allowing the television speaker to echo "CAMEEROON!!!"


    People love stories where the weak beat the strong because they are inherently inspiring and offer a sense of hope and empowerment.


    At some point, Cameroon felt like they were up against tough challenges or larger forces, and seeing the "weak" triumph gave people hope that they too could prevail.


    In the lounge, everyone looked at Richard with complicated expressions. He had won again.


    How much was it? A hundred?


    Even Eric gasped, his cigar still in his hand, probably forgotten, as he kept muttering, "Monster, monster."


    After the match, as expected, the commentary on both the winners and losers poured in. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "No one thought we could do anything here against Maradona, but we knew what we were capable of," said goalscorer Fran?ois Omam-Biyik. "We hate it when European reporters ask if we eat monkeys or have a witch doctor. We are real football players, and we proved that tonight."


    On the other side, Maradona took the defeat with grace. "I don''t think they intended to beat us up just to win the game," he admitted. "I cannot argue, and I cannot make excuses. If Cameroon won, it was because they were the better team."


    That day, The Guardian''s David Lacey summed it up in his column: "This was no fluke. The better team won. They won, moreover, after finishing with nine men on the field ¡­ Such was their superiority that the Africans still finished looking as if they had more men on the pitch than their hapless opponents."

 Chapter 52 - 52: Paddy Power Making Waves

    This year''s World Cup opening will go down as one of the most shocking in history.


    It was more than just a match¡ªit was a statement. A statement that African football is a force to be reckoned with. Or at least, that''s the message they sent to the world.


    Is it skill or just pure luck?


    But this isn''t the first time, is it?


    People were at a loss.


    They thought they had finally turned the tables.


    Some had even convinced themselves that this time, they would be the ones getting their revenge or walking away with fortunes. But in the end, it was Richard¡ªagain¡ªwho walked away with another ¡ê100,000,000 from just a single match.


    Now, they had learned their lesson. They weren''t just watching football anymore; they were watching Richard. Waiting. Hoping. They wanted him to place another bet so they could follow his lead.


    But then, just like before, he was gone.


    No one had seen him. No one knew where he went. It was as if he had vanished from the face of the earth.


    People were going mad. Some searched for him, but did anyone really know where he lived now? Others cursed his name, unable to accept that they had been played yet again.


    After the group stage concluded, Richard sighed in relief. It wasn''t that he wanted to avoid betting, but with the unpredictable nature of the group stage, he didn''t dare take the risk.


    More importantly, he couldn''t help but admire the sheer talent on display¡ªwatching these players in action only deepened his appreciation for the game.


    ''Probably after the Bosman ruling, I should start focusing on scouting players in Africa and South America,'' he thought.


    The biggest upset in the group stage came from Group F, where England, the Republic of Ireland, the Netherlands, and Egypt battled it out.


    Eric grinned as he counted his winnings from betting on England, a cigar lazily hanging from his lips. But even he had to admit¡ªseeing Ireland finish above the Netherlands was something no one had expected.


    Pundits had predicted the Dutch, reigning European champions, to dominate. Instead, they scraped through in third place, while Ireland, against all odds, held their ground and secured a spot above them.


    In the Round of 16, Richard still didn''t make an appearance. For a moment, he considered wagering on Yugoslavia to win against Spain, but uncertainty held him back.


    He wasn''t entirely sure how the match would unfold, so he chose to stay cautious and hold his ground.


    As the football world awaited the start of the 1990¨C91 season, an important announcement shook English football.


    Concerns over crime and public safety¡ªespecially the growing issue of football hooliganism¡ªhad reached a breaking point in the UK. With violent clashes dominating the headlines, the government could no longer turn a blind eye.


    The Heysel Stadium disaster in the 1980s had marked the darkest chapter of football hooliganism. Combined with the tragedy of Hillsborough, it was clear that something had to change.


    Clubs such as West Ham United, Millwall, Arsenal, Tottenham Hotspur, Queens Park Rangers, Fulham, Charlton Athletic, and Wimbledon were at the center of this growing issue.


    At the same time, a separate but equally significant development was unfolding¡ªLondon Weekend Television''s managing director, Greg Dyke, had met with representatives of England''s "big five" football clubs over dinner.


    Manchester United, Liverpool, Tottenham Hotspur, Everton, and Arsenal.


    Many media outlets speculated that the meeting was about reforming the Football League First Division, which had long lagged behind leagues such as Italy''s Serie A and Spain''s La Liga in terms of attendance and revenue.


    Considering that this meeting took place right after European football''s governing body lifted the five-year ban on English clubs competing in European competitions¡ªwas this just a coincidence?


    Finally, the long-awaited moment arrived¡ªthe quarter-finals. People thought the matches would be thrilling.


    Argentina, Yugoslavia, Republic of Ireland, Italy, Czechoslovakia, West Germany, Cameroon, and England.


    The first game of the last eight saw Argentina face a Yugoslav side that was reduced to 10 men after only half an hour. The match ended in a goalless stalemate, and Argentina advanced to the semi-finals after winning the penalty shootout 3¨C2, despite Maradona having his penalty saved. To summarize: boring.


    The Republic of Ireland''s World Cup run came to an end with a single goal from Schillaci in the first half of their quarter-final against hosts Italy. Ireland became the team that advanced the furthest in a World Cup without winning a single match.


    This match was widely criticized as excessively dull, filled with back-passing and goalkeepers deliberately wasting time. During the match, Irish goalkeeper Packie Bonner held the ball for nearly six minutes. To summarize: boring.


    In the third match, West Germany defeated Czechoslovakia with a 25th-minute penalty from Lothar Matth?us. To summarize: boring.


    Finally, England vs. Cameroon was the only quarter-final to produce more than one goal. Despite Cameroon''s earlier heroics in the tournament, David Platt put England ahead in the 25th minute.


    In the second half, the game was turned on its head within a five-minute stretch: first, Cameroon was awarded a penalty, and Emmanuel Kund¨¦ scored the equalizer. Then, in the 65th minute, Eug¨¨ne Ek¨¦k¨¦ put Cameroon ahead.


    People thought Cameroon would create another miracle and plunge the Three Lions into despair, but they were just eight minutes away from the semi-finals when they conceded a penalty, which Gary Lineker converted. Midway through extra time, England was awarded another penalty, and Lineker again scored from the spot.


    England was through to the semi-finals for the first time since 1966.


    The streets of London were alive with celebration. A sea of people flooded the roads, waving flags, singing, and cheering in unison. Fans climbed onto lampposts and perched on rooftops, desperate for a better view of the historic moment.


    Richard shook his head at the sight. ''They haven''t even won yet, but they''re already celebrating like champions.''


    Of course, Richard remembered this match. However, it wasn''t because he was confident about the outcome or had a strong feeling¡ªit was because of the famous "Gazza tears" after the match.


    Tensions are at an all-time high. Two giants of international football are set to face off in a match that will echo the legendary 1966 final.


    The world is watching, and expectations are sky-high.


    But amid the footballing frenzy, a new player in the game¡ªPaddy Power¡ªwas determined to make waves.


    The moment Richard told Fay, "West Germany, a hundred million pounds¡ªALL IN!" the marketing team sprang into action.


    Fay nearly passed out¡ªnot because he questioned his own sanity, but because of the commission. Within minutes:


    Billboards across London flashed: "One Man. One Mad Bet. ¡ê100,000,000 on West Germany¡ªWill He Regret It?" S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The message was impossible to miss, from Piccadilly Circus to underground station ads, turning the bet into a national spectacle.


    Radio stations buzzed with debate, with callers arguing over whether Richard was a visionary or a fool.


    Then came Eric. The moment he heard that Richard had put his entire ¡ê100,000,000 winnings from Cameroon on West Germany, he dropped his cigar mid-puff.


    Eric Hall¡ªjust as controversial, just as brash¡ªcouldn''t stand to watch the madness unfold without jumping in, and Paddy Power definitely didn''t want to miss out.


    "OH, SOD THIS!" he roared before slamming a million-pound bet on England in retaliation.


    Paddy Power then rebranded the game with the eye-catching title "The Billion-Pound Bloodbath," offering odds on which of the two men would collapse first.


    Who will throw the first punch?


    - Maddox ¨C 7/2


    - Hall ¨C 9/2


    - A random bookie trying to break them up ¨C 25/1


    Who will crack first?


    - Maddox (Overwhelmed by his own insanity) ¨C 3/1


    - Eric Hall (Cigar-induced heart attack) ¨C 5/1


    Limited-edition Paddy Power betting slips were printed with Maddox and Hall''s faces, captioned:"Gamble like a legend¡ªor lose like one."


    They even handed out exclusive t-shirts that read: "I Bet He''d Collapse First¡­ AND I WAS RIGHT!" Free for anyone who placed a bet.


    The next morning, newspaper headlines screamed:


    "INSANITY OR GENIUS? THE BET THAT COULD SHOCK FOOTBALL" ¨C The Times


    "¡ê100 MILLION ON THE LINE: ONE MAN''S GAMBLE, A NATION HOLDS ITS BREATH" ¨C Daily Mail


    Finally, following Richard''s recommendation, Paddy Power even partnered with some media companies to expand their reach beyond London, the UK, and Britain, aiming to captivate audiences across Europe and, if possible, the entire world.


    Platforms like Usenet allowed people to post and reply to messages in topic-based forums¡ªthink of it as an early version of Reddit. Additionally, CompuServe and Prodigy provided services like email, forums, news, and chat rooms.


    Richard definitely wanted to harness the power of these early ancestors of modern social media!


    The war was no longer just on the pitch¡ªit was in the bookies, on the streets, and across the early internet. Dignity, national pride, betrayal, and who would be obliterated first.


    And Paddy Power? They were laughing all the way to the bank.


    "Holy shit!" Fay, the head of the entire project, nearly fell out of his chair. His eyes widened as he stared at the latest numbers on the records.


    Every bookmaker under Paddy Power''s umbrella was swamped. Some shops had queues stretching down the block, with punters desperate to get their money in before kickoff. The phone lines were jammed. Even international betting partners were reporting record-breaking engagement.


    One of the junior analysts turned to Fay, his voice shaking. "Sir... we''ve just hit an all-time betting record. This¡ªthis is bigger than the Grand National."


    Fay gulped. He had been in the gambling business for years, but this? This was madness. A single bet had turned into a worldwide frenzy.


    And the best part? No matter who won or lost, Paddy Power was about to make a killing.


    Kickoff was moments away. An obscure national television network followed the two men, documenting their every reaction in real time as the match approached, determined to boost their ratings with this event.


    Richard was sweating this time. The brick phone on the table wouldn''t stop ringing. He knew it was probably his mom.


    ''I''m sorry, Mom. I''ll take the beating, but not this time,'' Richard silently muttered into his hand.

 Chapter 53 - 53: A Final in Disguise

    The bet on England vs. West Germany at 1/1 odds was nowhere near as exciting compared to the chaos of "The Billion-Pound Bloodbath" event.


    The match was set to be played at Juventus'' home stadium in Turin.


    HALF-TIME: England 0¨C0 West Germany.


    To summarize¡ªboring.


    It''s not an exaggeration to say that neither side went all out¡ªthey played very cautiously.


    "After a few hairy minutes, England get the breather they need and deserve for a superb first-half performance: controlled, mature, and rousing."


    Half-time chit-chat. The BBC pundits, Terry Venerables, Jimmi Hill, and William Moris are full of praise. Fans gather around, listening to their analysis.


    "There weren''t any clear-cut chances for either side, but it''s been a very good game," Terry Venables says, also full of praise for Des Walker, describing him as ''unbeatable.''


    Jimmy Hill, channeling William Morris, says, "It''s a pleasure to see an England team give such a display in the arts and crafts of the game."


    SECOND HALF


    46 min: West Germany kick off from right to left.


    56 min: "This game is extremely open at the moment¡ªtoo open¡ªand Wright makes a really important block from Riedle on the edge of the box," says commentator John Motson.


    58 min: A lucky escape for England. Matth?us goes on a trademark robotic charge down the left wing, skipping past Waddle, Gascoigne, and Walker, but just as he reaches the box, he slips at the crucial moment before delivering a cross.


    "England are under siege now," warns John Motson.


    59 min: "GOAAAAAALLLL! Oh, here''s the replay¡ªPearce fouled H?ssler. Then the free-kick. Brehme takes the shot¡ªit deflects off Parker! The ball loops high in the air... agonizingly over the stranded Shilton, who can''t backpedal quickly enough!"


    A free-kick tapped to Andreas Brehme results in a shot that deflects off Paul Parker and into his own net.


    England 0¨C1 West Germany


    "YES! YES! YOU BLOODY BEAUTY!" Richard roars, grabbing Eric¡ªthe nearest person¡ªnearly making him throw a punch. Thankfully, Hall remembers how much that would cost him just in time.


    Around the room, punters groan¡ªsome bookies throw their betting slips in frustration, while others bang on tables.


    "England just need to keep their nerve and make sure they don''t go two down¡ªbecause if they do, it''s over," warns Motson.


    63 min: "WHAT A CHANCE FOR ENGLAND! That was desperately close to an equalizer."


    After being fouled on the left, Gascoigne swings in a superb free-kick. Pearce, getting in front of Riedle at the near post, flicks a backheader across goal¡ªjust wide of the far post with Illgner motionless.


    69 min: "HOW IS THAT NOT A PENALTY?"


    England are desperately unlucky. Waddle, just inside the box, draws the tackle from Augenthaler with a swing of the hips before shifting the ball to his left¡ªjust before Augenthaler takes him down.


    That is a clear penalty, but the referee waves play on. In his defense, nobody appeals¡ªWaddle just gets straight up with that hangdog expression. On first viewing, it was hard to be certain, but after watching the replays, there is no doubt whatsoever.


    75 min: The game is meandering a bit. England are doing okay, but West Germany look reasonably comfortable.


    79 min: Parker chases Brehme down the right to win a corner. It''s taken deep by Beardsley¡ªWright''s looping header is comfortably saved by Illgner. Bobby Robson is about to roll the dice for the last time¡ªSteve Bull is preparing to come on, presumably for Beardsley.


    81 MIN: "GOOOOOAAAAAAALLLL!" John Motson''s voice explodes, rattling the speakers as they struggle to handle the sheer volume of his excitement.


    ENGLAND 1¨C1 WEST GERMANY


    Parker swings a long cross towards Lineker from near the halfway line. It hits Kohler''s thigh, bouncing up¡ªLineker knees it past Augenthaler and Berthold before smashing a left-footed shot across goal into the far corner.


    The camera shifts from the celebrations to the bench¡ªBobby Robson reclines in his seat, wearing the most beautiful smile: warm, benign, and extremely proud.


    "GET IN THERE, MY SON!" Eric Hall, who had been sitting in utter misery, suddenly springs to life as if he''s just seen the gates of heaven open before him.


    His cigar, which had been hanging limply from his mouth, shoots out like a missile¡ªhitting some poor bloke square in the forehead.


    Around him, England fans erupt into pandemonium¡ªpints fly through the air, strangers embrace like long-lost brothers, and one particularly enthusiastic punter tries to climb onto the bar, only to be immediately yanked down by security.


    That''s Lineker''s tenth World Cup goal.


    "He started this tournament slowly, but he''s looked really sharp tonight¡ªand he took that beautifully. That was a more difficult chance than it looked," says Motson.


    84 min: Gascoigne nails a glorious 60-yard crossfield pass to Lineker, who is just about to put the ball back in the box when Platt is penalized for some off-the-ball tomfoolery.


    89 min: England are passing the ball around at the back. Both sides look happy to take this to extra time. That''s all well and good for them, but some of us planned to watch MASH* on BBC2 at nine.


    FULL-TIME: England 1¨C1 West Germany


    "How''s your ticker? For the third game in a row, England are going to extra time¡ªthe first time that''s ever happened in any World Cup. It''s the least they deserve after a fine, sophisticated performance¡ªtheir best of the tournament by a mile," says Motson, smiling as he waits for extra time.


    The camera pans to England''s side. Bobby Robson is wandering around, rallying the troops and giving tactical instructions to Parker. Waddle and Bull are having a laugh about something¡ªEngland look pretty relaxed.


    "We''ve got another half-hour and we might have penalties,'' says Des Lynam. ''Are you ready for this?"


    91 min: West Germany kick off from left to right. England haven''t used their final substitution.


    92 min: A bit of danger for England as West Germany break two on two. Klinsmann runs into the box but is superbly tackled by Walker. He really is imperious.


    95 min: "GREAT SAVE FROM SHILTON!"


    West Germany moved the ball slowly, all the way across the field from right to left, with Thon eventually shifting it down the line to Brehme.


    He curled over a wonderful first-time cross and Klinsmann, towering above Walker on the six-yard line, thumped a downward header towards goal.


    Shilton plunged to his right to make a superb reaction stop with both hands. It wasn''t right in the corner, and someone as good in the air as Klinsmann might feel he should have done better, but it was a brilliant save.


    96 min: "KLINSMANN MISSES ANOTHER CHANCE!"


    Wright came deep with Klinsmann to try to win possession and, as he followed the ball, Klinsmann kept running into the space behind. The ball came to the sweeper Augenthaler, who flipped an inviting angled pass over the top. Klinsmann was free, 12 yards from goal and in line with the left-hand post, but he screwed his left-footed volley across goal and just wide.


    "It was a harder chance than it looked because the pass was coming almost over his shoulder with no pace on the ball. But again, a player of his class should surely have done better," Motson says.


    97 min: England are rocking. Beardsley gives the ball away cheaply on the halfway line and, seconds later, Walker just gets in front of Riedle at the near post to put Brehme''s cross out for a corner.


    99 min: "HOLD ON...THERE COULD BE TROUBLE HERE..."


    Gascoigne overruns the ball in midfield and then lunges with typically naive enthusiasm at Berthold.


    It''s a clear foul but does not merit Berthold''s reaction ¨C 77 rollovers ¨C or that of the rest of the German camp, who are all at the referee, both on the field and from the bench.


    Gascoigne, realizing the implications, put both hands up in apology like a kid who has used that whoopee cushion on his teacher once too often and will never do it again I promise but please don''t punish me this time.


    He immediately goes to apologize to Berthold. It looks like he''s got away with it, for ten seconds at least, but then, with Hitchcockian suddenness, out comes the card...


    100 min:..."AND GAZZA MISSES THE FINAL!"


    England have to get there first, of course, but if they do, Gascoigne will not feature against Argentina on Sunday.


    Gascoigne is wobbling all over the place. Lineker says something to him, then pulls his grave face before speaking again.


    That is just too cruel. It does rather seem that the West Germans got him booked, which is a desperate shame because this game has otherwise been played in an incredibly good spirit.


    ''Poor old Gazza.'' Richard thought to himself.


    He has been the star of England''s tournament, and now his whole world has collapsed. It''s not just Gazza, either¡ªEnglish football has just had its heart broken into a million tiny pieces.


    "This is horrible. Too cruel," someone muttered while watching the screen.


    "Yeah, how are we supposed to play without Gascoigne against Argentina?" another chimed in.


    Richard was amused by this. It was as if they were already certain England would defeat West Germany.


    103 min: After that initial wobble, Gascoigne has managed to refocus and is doing some diligent defensive work.


    105 min: "WADDLE HITS THE POST!"


    England come within an inch of going ahead with the last kick of the half. When Steven''s cross from the left was partially cleared, the same man leapt above Berthold to head it back towards the area. It came to Waddle, 12 yards out on the left side of the box, and he smacked a brilliant first-time shot across Illgner and flush off the inside of the far post.


    "Damn it!" Eric, who had already stood up, slammed his hand on the table. He wasn''t the only one¡ªeveryone watching cursed this stroke of bad luck.


    EXTRA TIME, HALF TIME: England 1¨C1 West Germany


    106 min: England kick off the second period of extra time.


    109 min: Riedle nutmegs Walker down the left and toe-bungs a dangerous cross towards Klinsmann. Gascoigne, running towards his own goal at the near post, just manages to divert the ball away from Klinsmann.


    Richard could hear a collective exhale ripple through the crowd around him, like a sigh of relief shared by a single, anxious organism.


    111 min: Waddle swung in a free-kick, and Platt flicked a smart header past Illgner, sending the ball into the net¡ªbut¡ª


    "That''s offside!" Richard yelled, his voice cutting through the split-second of hope.


    His heart had nearly leaped out of his chest, but thankfully, his sharp eyes caught the linesman already standing with his flag raised on the sideline.


    "Ah, damn it!" Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Shit!"


    Frustration rippled through the crowd, groans filling the room as people clutched their heads or slammed their fists on tables. Another cruel twist of fate.


    114 min: "GOOD SAVE FROM SHILTON!"


    Thon has far too much space to take possession on the edge of the D and shape a lovely right-footed curler towards the far post. Shilton springs a long way to his left to catch the ball ¨C a slightly showy save but still a good one.


    117 min: The corner comes to nothing, and Germany break dangerously.


    Augenthaler drills a superb 40-yard pass to Klinsmann, who heads it beyond the last man, Walker, and for a moment looks like he has him beaten for pace.


    Richard stood up instantly.


    Don''t be silly. Walker catches him up on the right of the box, stays on his feet, and makes a superb interception. He has been simply majestic.


    He sat back down in disappointment, making people around him roll their eyes. Inside, though, their hearts thumped.


    118 min: Germany were so close to winning the match there. Riedle broke forward from the halfway line and played the ball to the right of the box for Matth?us, who came inside and had his left-footed shot blocked by Pearce.


    It broke to Buchwald ¨C the bloody centre-back ¨C who controlled it calmly 20 yards from goal and then, using Steven as a screen, placed a lovely curler to the left of Shilton that bounced up on to the outside of the post!


    "NOW BUCHWALD HITS THE POST! Can you take any more of this?!!"


    "F*CK!!!" Richard, who already had one foot on the chair, cursed loudly. If that had gone in, he would''ve been up there celebrating.


    Finally, the referee blows five seconds early.


    EXTRA TIME, FULL TIME: England 1¨C1 West Germany


    Both sets of players embrace warmly. This has been a cracking game and there''s a general recognition that neither side deserves to lose. The mutual respect is quite moving.

 Chapter 54 - 54: Drama Penalties

    Before Sunday''s game against Cameroon, England had not been awarded a penalty for four years.


    There were 17 years between the two goalkeepers: Peter Shilton, 40, and Bodo Illgner, 23.


    Illgner would be the first in action¡ªEngland were taking the first penalty.


    "Here we go, Lineker steps up first for England," Motson announced.


    Did you expect anything else? It was Gary Lineker, after all. He drilled the ball confidently into the left side of the net as Illgner dived the other way. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "LINEKER SCORES!"


    "YES!" someone shouted, punching the air.


    "I KNEW IT!" another yelled, slamming his pint on the table, spilling beer everywhere¡ªthough it didn''t seem to bother him.


    Richard exhaled sharply, his grip loosening on his glass. Beside him, Eric grinned, "Cool as you like," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.


    Around the betting shop, pub, and living rooms across England, fans breathed a collective sigh of relief. A few dared to smile, but no one was celebrating just yet.


    There was still a long way to go.


    Now, it was West Germany''s turn. Brehme placed the ball on the spot, took a few steps back, and steadied himself.


    The room fell silent.


    Brehme placed the ball down, took a step back, and waited for the referee''s whistle.


    An even better penalty¡ªcarefully placed into the bottom-left corner with his right foot. Shilton guessed correctly, but the shot was too precise, nestling into the side-netting.


    "BREHME SCORES!"


    Richard shot up from his seat. "M*THERF*CKER, THAT''S IT!" he roared, slamming his palm on the table so hard that a few heads turned in annoyance.


    Beside him, Eric Hall muttered his usual, "Monster, monster," under his breath.


    England 1¨C1 West Germany.


    The next:


    "BEARDSLEY SCORES!" England 2¨C1 West Germany.


    "MATTHAUS SCORES!" England 2¨C2 West Germany.


    "PLATT SCORES!" England 3¨C2 West Germany.


    "RIEDLE SCORES!" England 3¨C3 West Germany.


    "Shilton keeps going the right way, but he''s not getting anywhere near these. It almost looks like he''s waiting to see the direction before diving. That''s a dangerous tactic against German penalties¡ªthey''re too accurate."


    The tension in the stadium, the betting shop, and living rooms across England was unbearable. Hearts pounded like a drum.


    Now, Stuart Pearce steps forward. Always reliable from the spot for Nottingham Forest. He places the ball down, inhales deeply, and keeps his gaze fixed on the ball.


    Only after the referee blows his whistle does he lift his head. He takes a short run-up¡ª


    BOOM!


    Low, hard, almost down the middle¡ªbut Illgner, diving to his right, manages to block it with his feet.


    "PEARCE MISSES! ENGLAND 3¨C3 WEST GERMANY! ENGLAND IN TROUBLE!"


    The betting shop fell silent for a brief second before an explosion of curses.


    Illgner walked away with a slight smirk on his face, glancing back at Pearce, who just lowered his head and walked back toward his teammates. Now, Olaf Thon steps up for Germany.


    Thon places another perfect penalty into the bottom-right corner. Shilton went the right way again¡ªbut it didn''t matter. He wasn''t getting close to that.


    "THON SCORES! ENGLAND ARE ON THE BRINK!"


    WEST GERMANY 4¨C3 ENGLAND.


    If England miss this next one, it''s over. Richard''s grip tightened around his glass. His knuckles went white.


    "Just a little more¡­ just a little more¡­" he muttered.


    He knew what was at stake. With ¡ê100,000,000 on West Germany at 1/1 odds, he stood to double his money. If they won, he''d walk away with ¡ê200,000,000. If they lost? Nothing.


    The wait for England''s next taker was longer than expected. From their huddle, something was being discussed.


    There was an argument. It looked like Gascoigne was supposed to take it, but Gascoigne¡ªemotional and overwhelmed. If he didn''t score, England were out. Plus, with the drama of his tackle before, his teammates knew he wasn''t at his best. So, he switched places with Chris Waddle.


    Richard took a deep breath. This was it.


    Waddle placed the ball just like everyone before him. He took a deep breath and looked toward the goal. He didn''t shy away.


    Illgner made a move, hopping slightly from side to side, doing his best to unsettle Waddle


    "If Waddle misses this, then England are out. We can expect West Germany vs. Argentina in the final, and Italy vs. England in the third-place match," Motson explained.


    Pweeeehhh!


    The referee blew his whistle, and Waddle took one final deep breath.


    BANG!


    He smashed his penalty inches over the bar¡ªthough the trajectory made it seem like he''d missed by yards.


    "WADDLE MISSES AND ENGLAND ARE OUT!"


    And England''s dream was over.


    England 1¨C1 West Germany (3¨C4 pens).


    This time, Richard didn''t hold back. His foot, already halfway onto the chair, surged with energy as he jumped up, grinning from ear to ear. "EVERYONE HERE, IT''S ON ME!'' he shouted, raising his arms in celebration.


    "TODAY, YOU CAN HAVE ANYTHING¡ªTHIS ONE''S ON RICHARD MADDOX! I''M PAYING FOR IT ALL!!!"


    Of course, there''s no point in kicking someone who''s already down. And, being local, there''s no need to stir up any more trouble, right?"


    It was the cruelest way to go out, particularly after such a wonderful performance.


    Waddle sank to his knees, crestfallen. Matth?us broke away from the German celebrations to help him to his feet, a nice gesture from a truly world-class player.


    Bobby Robson, caught on camera, smiled ruefully but also proudly, gently punching the air as if to say, ''Bugger our luck.''


    He knew how desperately close England had been¡ªnot just to reaching the final, but to winning the World Cup.


    Their campaign started farcically and ended gloriously. Yes, okay, gloriously and farcically. If he could say it honestly, England had been the better side in normal time, and West Germany in extra time.


    The Germans would go on to their third consecutive final, hoping to avenge their defeats in 1982 and 1986.


    England would face Italy in the third-place play-off on Saturday, after a night of raw emotion and proud heartbreak that would live with them forever.


    After the camera captured everything on the pitch, the cameraman suddenly noticed something and hurriedly spun 90 degrees to focus on Paul Gascoigne.


    Gazza had tears streaming down his reddened face as he saluted the England fans.


    Time to listen to ''World in Motion'' on loop while drowning a million sweet sorrows.

 Chapter 55 - 55: Dragging Out The Transfer

    The following month marked the opening of the 1990/1991 English First Division, and of course, football wouldn''t be the same without the transfer market kicking things off.


    Before diving into that, there was some important news from the national team: Graham Taylor, manager of Aston Villa, was appointed as the successor to Bobby Robson as England manager.


    Prior to this, England had lost 2¨C1 to host nation Italy in the World Cup third-place play-off. In the final, West Germany triumphed over Argentina 1¨C0, with a penalty from Brehme in the 85th minute, securing West Germany''s third World Cup title before reunification.


    In other news, the English Football League confirmed that the First Division would revert to 22 clubs for the 1991¨C92 season. Meanwhile, the total league membership would increase to 94 clubs for the 1992¨C93 season, with the Second, Third, and Fourth Divisions each having 24 clubs.


    Leeds United were among the first to make their move, preparing for their First Division comeback by signing midfielder Gary McAllister from Leicester City for ¡ê1 million.


    Chelsea then followed suit, paying a club-record ¡ê1.6 million for Wimbledon winger Dennis Wise, and also bringing in Norwich City midfielder Andy Townsend for ¡ê1.2 million.


    Not wanting to be left behind, Manchester City, under Howard Kendall, made three signings. First, they brought in Neil Pointon from Everton, with Andy Hinchcliffe moving the other way. City then paid Watford ¡ê1 million for goalkeeper Tony Coton and Middlesbrough ¡ê400,000 for Mark Brennan.


    Meanwhile, Arsenal strengthened their squad by signing Swedish winger Anders Limpar from Italian side Cremonese for ¡ê1 million. Everton also made their move, bringing in midfielder Mike Milligan from Oldham Athletic for ¡ê1 million.


    With the transfer window near closing, the first major event was the Charity Shield, where Liverpool, the previous season''s league champions, faced Manchester United, the FA Cup winners.


    The game ended in a 1¨C1 draw, meaning the Charity Shield was shared between the two clubs.


    Richard had assumed the transfer market would follow its usual course, with the typical moves taking place. However, he didn''t expect Aston Villa to make a ¡ê1.1 million bid to Millwall for Tony Cascarino in the final minutes!


    "Do you want to leave?" Richard asked, eyeing Tony Cascarino, who was wearing a blue hoodie and dark sunglasses while sipping his black coffee.


    "What do you think?" Tony replied, his eyes never leaving the mug.


    Richard didn''t give an immediate response. Instead, he leaned back, thinking for a moment. To be honest, if Tony had asked him directly, he would''ve suggested he wait another season or two.


    His partnership with Sheringham was just beginning to gel, and this was his debut season in the First Division with Millwall. If he left now, would it be a wasted opportunity?


    Would the famous partnership between Sheringham and Tony ever get the chance to truly shine in the First Division?


    Richard thought about it and turned to Tony, sharing his thoughts.


    Tony listened carefully. There was a lot to think about: a potential move to a top-flight club like Aston Villa, but at what cost? Leaving so soon after the breakthrough might leave a feeling of unfinished business, especially with the potential of his current partnership still unproven.


    "Take your time," Richard added, breaking the silence. "You don''t want to rush into something that might not be right for you in the long run."


    Tony nodded as Richard spoke, but then hesitated. "But how do I reject them? It''s going to be difficult, right? Millwall''s already accepted the money."


    "It''s not easy, I get that," Richard said. "But this is part of the job as an agent, so you don''t need to get distracted by this." He then waved his hand, signaling to Tony that at least for now, he shouldn''t worry too much.


    After that, Richard also considered the minimum salary, just in case the offer exceeded what Tony had expected, in case Aston Villa truly became desperate for Tony''s services before heading to Villa Park in Aston, Birmingham, England.


    Richard arrived at Villa Park, where he was warmly welcomed by the representatives from Aston Villa. After exchanging pleasantries, they sat down to discuss the details of the potential transfer.


    "We''ve reviewed Tony Cascarino situation," the Villa representative began, "and we''re prepared to offer Tony a very competitive salary. Additionally, there''s a substantial signing bonus on the table."


    Richard nodded, reviewing the contract. "As Tony''s agent, I appreciate the offer," he said, taking a moment to assess the terms. "But let me be clear¡ªI need to discuss the specifics with Tony. This is a big decision for him, and I want to make sure everything aligns with what he''s looking for."


    The Aston Villa representatives exchanged impatient glances. With the transfer market closing soon, time was running out, and they were anxious to wrap things up.


    The discussion over salary dragged on. Richard was firm in his stance. "Tony''s looking for ¡ê1,800 a week, plus ¡ê50 per goal scored," he said. "We need to ensure this deal is right for him."


    The Villa representatives hesitated. "We can only offer ¡ê1,000 a week," one of them said, clearly trying to manage expectations.


    Richard shook his head. "That''s simply not enough for a player of Tony''s caliber."


    "But Cascarino is playing in the First Division for the first time," they countered.


    The tension in the room grew. Richard adjusted his stance. "Alright, let''s meet in the middle. ¡ê1,500 per week, plus the ¡ê30 per goal."


    Still, Aston Villa remained unmoved. "It''s not going to work for us at ¡ê1,500. We''ve got our limits," the representative replied.


    The minutes ticked by, the clock relentlessly ticking down to the transfer deadline. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Villa representative sighed. "Fine. ¡ê1,250 a week, and we''ll throw in the ¡ê15 per goal."


    Richard looked at the contract and nodded, weighing the decision. It wasn''t perfect, but it was as close as they were going to get.


    "Alright," he said, shaking hands with the Villa representatives. "We have a deal."


    With the clock ticking down, they rushed to finalize everything. The medical examination had already been scheduled, but there was no time to waste. However, as they raced to complete the formalities, the deadline loomed large.


    Cascarino was confused by this. He thought the discussion was for Richard to delay it, but Richard reassured him that everything was going to be alright.


    As expected, despite the frantic final push, they simply didn''t make it in time. The transfer fell through at the last moment, with Tony unable to complete the medical in time to officially seal the deal.


    It was a tough blow for both sides, particularly for Aston Villa and Millwall management. They cursed Richard, but he wasn''t intimidated. For one, this wasn''t his fault¡ªhe had followed all the proper procedures in the deal. Secondly, there was no involvement from City.


    After Tony Cascarino, the season finally began.


    Liverpool began their defense of the First Division title with a solid 3¨C1 away win against recently promoted Sheffield United. Arsenal, aiming for their second league title in three seasons, kicked off their campaign with a 3¨C0 victory over Wimbledon at Plough Lane.


    The highlight of the opening week was Leeds United''s fine First Division comeback, as they secured a 3¨C2 away win over Everton.


    However, shortly after the match, Leeds were warned that they risked expulsion from the Football League if measures to curb hooliganism involving their fans were not implemented.


    City began the season at White Hart Lane, where a star-studded Tottenham team, featuring England internationals Paul Gascoigne and Gary Lineker, proved too much for the Blues, inflicting a 3¨C1 defeat on City.


    The following match at Maine Road saw City bounce back with a 1¨C0 win over Everton, and they followed it up with another victory, 2¨C1, against Aston Villa.


    After the Aston Villa match, Richard hurriedly made his way to Maine Road to check on the condition of one of their players, Paul Lake, who had been injured. The doctor confirmed it was a cruciate ligament injury, which would unfortunately end Paul Lake''s career.


    As an ex-player who had been forced into retirement due to injury himself, Richard could truly sympathize with Lake and understand the emotional and physical toll such an injury could bring.


    What made him happy, however, after Paul Lake''s injury, was that Kendall decided to promote Chris Armstrong (21), Rob Jones (19), Graeme Le Saux (22), and Steve McManaman (18) to the City first squad.


    And City''s vacation in the English division started after this.


    The Blues were then unbeaten in three away games, drawing 1-1 at Chelsea and Wimbledon and sandwiched in between a good 4-0 win at Torquay in the 1st leg of a Rumbelows Cup 2nd round tie.


    The Blues couldn''t stop winning at home beating Coventry 2-0 and securing 5th position in the league after 8 games.


    A 0-0 draw at Maine Road with Torquay secured a route to the third round of the Rumbelows Cup and then The Blues made it ten games unbeaten drawing 1-1 at Derby.


    Wins after win had City fans grinning from ear to ear, convinced that Kendall was the man they wanted in charge for years to come.


    "HE IS THE RIGHT MAN~HE IS THE RIGHT MAN~" the Kippax crowd sang in unison, their voices filled with belief. But, to everyone''s shock, just two weeks later, Kendall left the club and returned to Merseyside to manage Everton for a second time.


    The entire situation left everyone dumbfounded. Before City even had a chance to search for a new manager, they were knocked out of the Rumbelows Cup at Maine Road, losing 2-1 to Arsenal. It was then that Kendall dropped the bombshell: he was leaving to go back to Goodison Park.


    In front of the media, Kendall said, "Actually, my relationship with Everton has always felt like a marriage, while my time at City has just been an affair."


    Even Richard, watching the interview in front of the television, was taken aback. "Holy shit!" he bluntly said. Did he fear the backlash?


    Without Richard''s intervention, City fired Kendall directly. Before leaving, Kendall attempted to lure Peter Reid to follow him, but Reid rejected him and chose to stay at City.


    The gritty 34-year-old midfielder took charge of the team as caretaker manager for the next match, a home game against Leeds, which ended in a 3-2 loss for The Blues.


    Reid was a popular choice among the players and fans to take over the role permanently, and he did so a week later in a player-manager role. However, his dual role soon made him realize the true challenge of managing while still playing.


    As the pressure mounted, the chaos began to unfold during the winter transfer window.


    Clive Allen handed in a transfer request, stating, "I have been told emphatically that there is no future for me at Maine Road¡­ Peter Reid agrees that it is probably the best thing for my career¡­ I must consider my future." sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Allen had joined City just after their promotion to the First Division, and had scored 10 league goals in his first season. However, he only managed to score four goals in the current season. While not an awful tally, he was out of favor and spent more time on the bench.


    Reid preferred to play Chris Armstrong as a forward, and it was no secret that Armstrong''s agent was one of City''s shareholders, which made Allen suspicious that something was being hidden. His sudden drop in favor raised many questions.


    Peter Reid''s luck ran out after Christmas. City''s league form deserted them as they slipped to 10th in Division 1. He then rallied the troops, and City got back on track, beating Sheffield United 2-0 at Maine Road, Norwich 2-1 at Carrow Road, and then a 3-0 win at home to Luton, which boosted the City fans.


    However, their momentum was disrupted when they were knocked out of the FA Cup by Notts County, lost to Leeds in the Zenith Cup, and then lost to QPR in the league.


    The Blues then lost 3-0 at Maine Road to title-chasing Liverpool and drew 1-1 against Wimbledon, also at Maine Road, leaving them in 8th place.


    City then drew 3-3 at Maine Road against Southampton and won 3-1 at Crystal Palace to move up to 6th place.


    Two more wins followed: 3-1 at home to Nottingham Forest and 2-1 at Leeds. City then drew 2-2 against Arsenal at Highbury, before beating Derby 2-1 at Maine Road and Aston Villa 5-1 at Villa Park.


    After seven games unbeaten, a trip to Old Trafford ended in defeat as Manchester United won 1-0. However, it was a winning end to the season as City finished in a very creditable 5th position in the league.


    In the league, Liverpool are defeated 2¨C1 by Nottingham Forest, handing the title to Arsenal, who secure a 3¨C1 victory over Manchester United. Alan Smith scores a hat-trick in the process.


    Manchester United mark the return of English clubs to European competition with a 2¨C1 win over Barcelona in the European Cup Winners'' Cup final in Rotterdam. Mark Hughes scores both goals for United.


    Tottenham Hotspur claim their eighth FA Cup title, defeating Nottingham Forest 2¨C1 after extra time in the final. Unfortunately, Paul Gascoigne suffers a cruciate knee ligament injury, causing his proposed ¡ê8.5 million move to Lazio to be put on hold.


    On 20 May 1991, the First Division campaign concludes with a 1¨C1 draw between Manchester United and Tottenham at Old Trafford.


    Before the holiday season, another shockwave hit the football world: Diego Maradona was banned for fifteen months in Serie A after failing a drug test for cocaine.

 Chapter 56 - 56: Maddox Capital

    As Richard finished his call from his family house in Mayfair, the TV speaker''s voice echoed in the background.


    [...John Banham, Director General of the Confederation of British Industry, warns that most of Britain is now affected by a recession and that there is worse to come. The latest CBI prediction is also the gloomiest since 1980, the last time Britain was in recession. Fears of a recession have been growing across most of the world since the autumn of last year. However, Chancellor John Major denies that Britain is on the verge of a recession...]


    "I have no problem with it, as long as the registration goes through."


    "Oh, then do you mean all the problems will be resolved next week?"


    "Then that''s good, thank you for your help."


    After he hung up, a smile finally escaped his lips. He had already made preparations beforehand, and this phone call was just the final step in confirming everything. With that, he could finally set up his company.


    Richard had made preparations beforehand, but his work as an agent had caused delays in the process. Until now, all of his investments had been made under his personal name. However, with the official registration for his new venture finally approved, everything was now in place.


    He could now move forward with the next steps. Richard named his company Maddox Capital, an investment firm designed to serve as the entity for his upcoming financial ventures.


    The first step was...


    "Greetings, gentlemen. Even though you probably already know me, I think I still need to introduce myself properly, as there are many of you here for the first time. My name is Richard Maddox, the owner of Maddox Capital."


    Currently at the Mayfair Hilton Hotel, in the VIP room, there were four sofas in front of Richard, and four men in suits¡ªrepresentatives from some of the biggest banks, or those with the potential to become the biggest.


    Two of them, Richard had already met before when he sold his property in Islington.


    Philip Harris from Lloyds Banking Group, Taylor Smith from Barclays, David Lang from HSBC, and Jerry Burris from NatWest.


    "Originally, I should have visited you one by one, but due to time constraints, I apologize for the trouble of having you come here together to discuss the first step of Maddox Capital," Richard said, locking eyes with the eight pairs of eyes scrutinizing him from head to toe.


    ''Oh, a venture capital?'' they thought in unison.


    Venture capital (VC) is a form of private equity financing provided by firms or funds to startups, early-stage, and emerging companies that are deemed to have high growth potential. They usually invest in these early-stage companies in exchange for equity, or an ownership stake.


    One of the men suddenly chuckled as he heard this. Everyone already knew that Richard Maddox was a heavy gambler. He bet on football matches as if there were no tomorrow, so what could he possibly mean by setting up a venture capital firm?


    "Mr. Maddox, don''t tell me this is just to fund your ridiculous bet for the next World Cup?" he asked with a smirk.


    Richard''s face immediately turned cold. "Mr. Burris..." he said. "I may gamble on football, but I''ve set up Maddox Capital to do exactly that¡ªto invest in companies that I deem to have potential."


    Who would believe him? Since when had Richard Maddox made investments? Even if he wanted to invest, would it actually work? No, investing wasn''t that simple.


    Mr. Burris shook his head and stood up. He wasn''t interested in this. "Venture capital is not a game. If you think I''m here to fund your next World Cup bet, you''re gravely mistaken."


    "And you think I''m begging you, Mr. Burris?"


    "..."


    Mr. Burris opened his mouth, but no words came out.


    "Mr. Burris, I think what follows will only waste your time right now. The door is over there, please."


    Everyone was stunned hearing this. Mr. Burris, too, hadn''t expected Richard to directly order him to leave. His face turned red with embarrassment, and he stood up, leaving without looking back.


    After Mr. Burris left, Richard looked toward the three gentlemen in front of him.


    These men, representatives of major banks, were not rookies. Regardless of whether they were cunning or not, as bankers, one would expect them to be shrewd.


    "Apologies, gentlemen, for the disruption," Richard said, his tone calm. "Now, let''s begin. Allow me to introduce you to Maddox Capital..."


    Richard began pitching his venture capital plans, but to be honest, it sounded like any other typical venture capital pitch. Some of the men began to grow impatient.


    "Mr. Maddox, sorry to interrupt, but can you get to the point?"


    Richard didn''t react angrily to the interruption. Instead, he calmly nodded toward David Lang, the HSBC relationship manager.


    "Understood, Mr. Lang. The reason I invited you here today is to select a partner for my upcoming real estate project."


    Everyone was taken aback. A real estate project? But you just said your company was venture capital. Shouldn''t you be looking for small companies to invest in, not properties?


    "Mr. Maddox, is this about the hotel you recently acquired in Mayfair?" Philip Harris from Lloyds''s asked.


    Richard shook his head.


    "Then would you care to elaborate, Mr. Maddox?"


    "Since this involves commercial secrets, I need to see some sincerity first." Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Sincerity? What kind of sincerity are you referring to?"


    "Mr. Richard, I''m very sorry, but I think HSBC will be withdrawing from this discussion," David Lang said, after a brief moment of contemplation.


    After all, a loan wasn''t something that simply appeared out of thin air. As the manager, he would face the consequences later if it failed. So, he quickly stood up and shook Richard''s hand, choosing the safer option.


    Now, it was down to Lloyds and Barclays.


    "Mr. Harris, Mr. Smith, if you also wish to withdraw, I can understand," Richard said.


    From the beginning to the end, Mr. Smith from Barclays had remained silent. Only after Richard spoke did he smile.


    "On the contrary," Mr. Smith said, "we at Barclays value our relationship. From Islington, we have taken steps toward building a strong partnership. But if I can learn more about your plans, I believe I can more confidently convince our director. So, what do you say, Mr. Richard?"


    Richard then turned toward Mr. Harris from Lloyds.


    He only shrugged. "I guess if it''s interesting, then Lloyd could join. Let''s hear it first."


    ''Perfect!'' Richard grinned.


    Barclays is better for international business, investment banking, and wealth management, while Lloyds excels in personal banking and mortgages, with a strong domestic focus and a commitment to customer service.


    Although pre-sales were allowed in Britain, there were regulations on the payment terms and the proportion of payments from customers, and the full payment could not be received until the building was built or completed. Therefore, for many developers, financial strength is a must.


    It''s similar to the Islington building he purchased in bulk before. He was allowed to proceed because he assured, both ethically and legally, that he would carry out major renovations using his own funds and was transparent about the sources of his money.


    "Mr. Richard, before we move forward, care to tell us what you have in mind?"


    First, Maddox Capital needs to complete its registration procedures and establish its company investment account. Naturally, Barclays is the first choice.


    No matter what, Barclays Bank, as one of the largest banks in the UK, is set to become one of the four largest private banks in the country and one of the biggest in the world in the future, with the best connections.


    Another reason is that Barclays also provides dedicated securities accounts for directly purchasing stocks listed on many exchanges like NASDAQ, the New York Stock Exchange, Euronext, and even the Tokyo Stock Exchange, making it convenient to purchase stocks domestically and internationally.


    As for Lloyds, its strong domestic presence and expertise in financing made it the first choice. From the start, they had a deep understanding of the local market and a willingness to fund large-scale real estate ventures. Simply put, if you have any problems with your project in the UK, consult them.


    Richard first settled his new company account, which was easy, and injected ¡ê50 million as the initial capital. The funds would be focused on U.S. stocks through margin trading under a financing agreement signed with Barclays Bank.


    The first target is the American multinational digital communications technology conglomerate, Cisco.

 Chapter 57 - 57: Investment and Loan

    Richard didn''t shy away from his idea to invest in Cisco. He immediately shared his thoughts on making Cisco the first investment for Maddox Capital.


    "Here is the company, Cisco, that you requested," Smith said.


    As expected, Barclays was highly efficient. When Richard requested information about Cisco, Smith made a call, and fifteen minutes later, an intern happened to be passing by and dropped off the related documents.


    "Cisco? Hmm, it''s not a company I''ve heard much about. What exactly do they do?" Harris from Lloyds asked.


    "They sell multi-protocol routers," Richard said as he skimmed through the documents.


    Cisco Systems was still a young company, primarily focused on selling its core product¡ªmulti-protocol routers¡ªwhich allowed different types of computer networks to communicate with one another.


    The term "routers" was unfamiliar to Taylor Smith and Philip Harris. Only after Richard explained did they begin to understand.


    "Ah, so it''s for network connections... I see."


    Cisco''s origins traced back to Stanford University. In the early 1980s, students and staff at Stanford developed technology that linked all of the university''s computer systems, creating a device known as the "Blue Box."


    The Blue Box used circuitry and software originally written by Stanford research engineer William Yeager. Thanks to its scalable architecture, Yeager''s well-designed invention became central to Cisco''s early success.


    However, the company''s early years weren''t without controversy. Cisco''s founders were forced to resign from Stanford, and the university even considered filing criminal complaints against them for allegedly stealing its software, hardware designs, and intellectual property.


    It wasn''t until 1987¡ªjust a year later¡ªthat Stanford officially licensed the router software and two computer boards to Cisco. Now, three years later, Cisco was preparing for its IPO on the NASDAQ stock exchange.


    Upon hearing the news, Richard immediately finalized the establishment of Maddox Capital, putting his work as an agent on hold to focus on this opportunity.


    "Can I invest my full hundred million into it?" Richard asked.


    Both Smith and Harris shook their heads¡ªthat''s not how IPO investments work.


    "If you want to invest a hundred million, there are several challenges and factors you''ll need to consider," Smith said as he adjusted his tie, preparing to explain.


    Richard listened carefully.


    "Typically, IPO shares are allocated by underwriters based on various criteria. Large institutional investors¡ªsuch as mutual funds, pension funds, or hedge funds¡ªusually receive a significant portion of the shares," Smith explained.


    Richard was actually lucky to have contacted them. There were no dedicated securities firms in the UK; instead, intermediary institutions for securities trading were typically handled by commercial investment banks¡ªand Barclays was one of them.


    First, Cisco''s IPO offered 2.8 million shares at $18 per share, meaning the total value of shares available for purchase was $50.4 million. Richard''s intended investment of $100 million was more than double the entire offering.


    Even if he were able to access the IPO, he wouldn''t be able to invest the full amount unless the offering was oversubscribed and additional shares were made available¡ªwhich was unlikely for an IPO of this size.


    Second, even if he managed to participate, he would only be allocated a fraction of the available shares, depending on demand and allocation rules


    Maddox Capital was a newly established entity. Since his firm was still in its early stages, he might not qualify as an accredited investor or meet the priority requirements typically reserved for institutional investors. Therefore, he could buy shares on the secondary market after the IPO, once Cisco''s stock began trading publicly.


    Richard didn''t mind the secondary market, so he instructed them to use the money to buy as much as possible, and Smith complied.


    "However, as a client, I must warn you first. Up until now, computers have mainly been used in universities and companies," Smith said.


    "That''s true. Computers are expensive," Harris added.


    Richard didn''t explain further; he simply stated that he had made up his mind.


    Perhaps they couldn''t yet grasp the immense potential of Cisco. Why would individuals need a computer? And even if they had one, what could they do with it?


    At present, Richard''s cash in hand was ¡ê200 million. Adding his Mayfair house and hotel (worth ¡ê50 million), a plot of land in Islington near St. Mary''s Parish Church, and his stake in Manchester City and WWF, his total net worth was approaching ¡ê300 million.


    "Mr. Richard, before that, regarding the real estate¡ªwhere exactly are you looking to invest?"


    Richard raised three fingers. "First, the most important is the Britannia Inter-Continental London."


    This was the hotel Richard had acquired in front of Grosvenor Square Park in Mayfair. When he shared his idea, both Smith and Harris were too stunned to speak¡ªthey were completely speechless.


    "I think it''s a good idea to demolish everything and build a new one. Moreover, the current building is centrally located, and I''ve already acquired all the properties in the surrounding area. I believe it would be best to expand the hotel to occupy the entire block, don''t you think?"


    They were left in shock, but to Richard, the idea made perfect sense. In the first place, the demand for hotels in London had always been strong¡ªespecially considering the city was on track to become the heart of the global financial sector. Naturally, its visitors would include bankers, investors, and businesspeople.


    "I want to expand the grandeur and scale of the hotel, but the current Britannia Inter-Continental London simply cannot compete with hotels like Hilton or J.W. Marriott¡ªat least not in the future," Richard emphasized.


    He lowered one finger. "The second is King''s Cross and St. Pancras," he continued.


    Richard then turned to Harris from Lloyds. "I want to acquire all the land near the gas tank. and its the the surrounding land." S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Harris gasped. ''Crazy, crazy, this is just too crazy!''


    After the havoc of wartime and the Nationalisation of 1948, the transport of freight by rail suffered a speedy decline. In the southern part of the Goods Yard, most of the rail lines were lifted in the 1980''s.


    "You mean the gas tank near King''s Cross Station? I didn''t mishear you, right?" Harris asked once again.


    The land Richard was referring to was the site of the Victorian gas tanks. This storage facility consisted of three massive gas tanks connected to each other, and these very tanks dated back to the Victorian era.


    The tanks and the surrounding land were owned by a gas company in London. That being said, as you are aware, it''s a gas tank¡ªa gas storage facility!


    This meant the area suffered from poor environmental quality, which had significantly undermined its potential.


    Once a bustling industrial and distribution district, it had deteriorated into an underutilized site. Many buildings fell into disrepair, impacting local communities, who began leaving the area as the UK transitioned fully to natural gas.


    In fact, the location was excellent, situated centrally in London. Several projects attempted to revitalize the area, such as Camley Street Natural Park, just west of the Regent''s Canal. However, rather than improving, the area became known for its nightlife, prostitution, and crime instead.


    "But these gas tanks are too huge."


    As someone who worked for Lloyds and knew the ins and outs of the industry, of course, he was familiar with the gas tanks. After thinking for a moment, he decided to be direct.


    "If you''re targeting the gas tanks, you can''t acquire them yet because they are still operational. That''s the first issue. Second, I''ll be very open with you."


    "The situation with the gas industry is very bad right now. It''s in decline. Based on my estimation, it won''t be long before these tanks are decommissioned and cease operations. Until that time comes, no one knows what will happen to them. With their current specifications, they stand nearly fifty meters high, making dismantling them both time-consuming and labor-intensive."


    "I know you have money, but to dismantle them on your own?" He shook his head. "Considering the special conditions of this block, forget it. It''s not efficient. You''d just be wasting your money."


    Richard was genuinely interested in the gas tanks because, when he passed over the area as a ghost, he saw that half of the derelict land had been transformed into a world-class complex.


    The gas tank itself had been converted into an apartment complex, and its towering fifty-meter frame had become an iconic structure of the development. But after thinking about it again, he realized it wasn''t efficient indeed¡ªat least not for his current self, who wanted to ride the dot-com bubble era.


    When he saw the half-finished project in the late 2000s, it meant the project had likely only started in the early or mid-2000s. This also meant he would have to wait for the gas tanks to cease operations first.


    "Fine then," Richard said before standing up. He walked over to the nearest table, opened a drawer, and took out a map he had kept for a long time.


    "If the gas tank isn''t possible, then I hope Lloyds can help me acquire this place instead."


    Both Smith and Harris turned their eyes to the map, noticing a red circle marking the location. As they realized what Richard was pointing at, they exchanged puzzled expressions.


    "Another hotel?" they both asked at the same time.


    Many people might not be familiar with King''s Cross Station. However, if you''re familiar with the Harry Potter series, then you would definitely recognize it. That''s because this very location was used as a filming site. The starting point of Harry''s journey to Hogwarts was King''s Cross Station.


    And in front of this station stood The Midland Grand Hotel.


    "That''s impossible!" Harris quickly denied. "That building is granted Grade I listed status¡ªyou can''t buy it."


    The Midland Grand Hotel opened in 1873 but closed in 1935 due to financial difficulties. It was later repurposed as office space by British Rail. In 1967, it was granted Grade I listed status, protecting it from demolition.


    By 1990, the building remained vacant and in a state of disrepair, still under the control of British Rail. Given its condition, restoring the property would require significant investment. But wasn''t that exactly why Richard had been saving money in the first place?


    It was precisely because of its Gothic architecture that Richard wanted it. And if he could later push for its exterior to appear in the Harry Potter movies, wouldn''t that make the hotel a landmark for tourists?


    For example, turning it into a must-visit tourist attraction for Harry Potter fans by hosting themed events, exclusive stays, and magical experiences? How impressive would that be?


    "But as I said, you can''t buy a building protected by the government. No, it''s impossible."


    "Don''t be so quick to argue," Richard waved his hand dismissively. "We don''t know what will happen in the future. But for now, what I want is for Lloyd to connect me with whoever is involved with that hotel. That''s not impossible, right?"


    Smith, who had plenty of negotiation experience, immediately understood. Richard was like a hunter, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. ''Impressive.''


    The third location Richard targeted was Exmouth Market in Finsbury. As a native of Islington, he couldn''t just leave his roots behind, so he had long been scouting for a prime area for development.


    His choice fell on a four-sided building that was up for sale in Wilmington Square Garden. The west, east, and north sides were currently owned by the same group. However, the east side was occupied by a school, so Richard decided not to disturb the place.


    Just imagine having three apartment buildings facing a beautiful garden, with a school right next door.


    Your kids could simply walk to school, and when they wanted to play, they would have a safe, open garden right in front of their home. Isn''t that the perfect place to build an apartment?


    "Understood. I will contact our Real Estate Advisory quickly. So, regarding your loan..."

 Chapter 58 - 58: Arsenals Offer

    1991/1992 Season: Before Diving Into Football, Several Events Unfolded in the UK


    It was announced that unemployment had surpassed 1.8 million, with experts warning that the number could exceed 2 million later in the year. In response, the government moved to cut interest rates in an effort to combat the recession.


    During the 1990¨C1991 winter season, heavy snowfall disrupted the country, and Britain endured a prolonged cold snap. Upon hearing this, Richard took action, donating millions of pounds to support those affected.


    British scientist Tim Berners-Lee introduced WorldWideWeb, the first web browser, while working at CERN in Geneva, and the first website went online. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The Football Association announced plans for a new "super league" of eighteen clubs to replace the Football League First Division as the highest division of English football. The move was heavily criticized by smaller Football League clubs, who feared they could go out of business if TV revenue was concentrated in the proposed super league.


    The Bank of England shut down the Bank of Credit and Commerce International amid fraud allegations. Richard inquired about the possibility of purchasing the bank through Barclays and Lloyds, but the institution was so riddled with problems that it had to be seized. The government had already ordered its closure.


    City''s pre-season saw the initial welcome return of Paul Lake to training, however in his first session he broke down and unfortunately he was given the news that his cruciate ligament which had been ''repaired'' in an operation almost a year before had re-ruptured and would need further surgery.


    In the English First Division:


    Liverpool break the national transfer record by paying Derby County ¡ê2.9million for striker Dean Saunders. They also sold Peter Beardsley to Everton for ¡ê1million.


    Tottenham Hotspur defender Mitchell Thomas moves to West Ham for ¡ê500,000, and announce that injured midfielder Paul Gascoigne is set to move to Italian club Lazio at the end of the season.


    Aston Villa sell David Platt to A.S. Bari of Italy for ¡ê6.5million ¨C the most expensive fee for a British player, and more than double the latest record paid by a British club.


    Richard made a call to all his players, checking on their well-being, their clubs, and whether they needed anything.


    Teddy Sheringham was the first to speak, mentioning that Nottingham Forest had made a ¡ê2 million bid for him. Richard wasn''t surprised by this and simply asked what Sheringham had in mind.


    Sheringham said he wanted to stay at Millwall. Leaving now would feel like unfinished business, especially since his partnership with Cascarino last season had been incredibly strong. He wanted to test himself at the highest level of English football with Millwall.


    Finally, the time had come. It was Ian Wright¡ªArsenal had made a ¡ê2.5 million bid for him from Crystal Palace, and the club had already accepted it. The reason was simple:


    Crystal Palace chairman Ron Noades had already called Richard to ask for his help in keeping Ian at the club, but Richard only responded, "Ian was hankering for a move. He wanted to play in Europe, and Arsenal was the club he wanted to join."


    With no other choice, Crystal Palace accepted the bid, and Richard immediately rushed to take Ian Wright to Arsenal as soon as possible.


    In the car, Ian said, "I didn''t expect Arsenal to buy me for a club-record fee. Not at this age," he said, still in a daze.


    "Well, you''re wrong then," Richard replied while driving his father''s car.


    Ian Wright was already 28 years old, yet The Gunners still paid a club-record ¡ê2.5 million to bring him to Highbury.


    This showed that, despite having passed what was traditionally considered a footballer''s peak years, they believed he still had plenty to offer as a striker.


    "Have you had any breakfast yet? Would you like something to drink?" Richard did not answer but instead offered the question.


    "No, I don''t need anything. Let''s go straight to Arsenal Stadium."


    Arriving at The Gunners'' home ground, they were welcomed by David Dein, the club''s current vice-chairman, and George Graham, the current manager.


    Ian Wright felt flattered by the warm reception, but Richard knew he had to ensure Ian remained composed and confident. After all, this was a crucial moment¡ªone that could influence how Arsenal perceived his value as a player.


    Richard exchanged brief greetings with the two Arsenal top figures before settling down in a seat opposite theirs. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting two of the top dogs of Arsenal here?"


    It was to break the ice.


    Dein smiled before tilting his head and making eye contact with Graham, who was seated beside him. The latter nodded at him as if they were exchanging some mental communication in that brief moment.


    He then turned back towards Richard and said: "First, we''ll start by making an offer to your client before discussing anything else." He grinned.


    "I''m listening," Richard said, fishing out a notebook from his bag.


    "So, as you already know," David Dein began, "We highly value Ian''s potential. To show our sincerity, we''re offering Ian Wright ¡ê400 per week for a five-year contract."


    ¡ê400 per week translates to ¡ê20,800 a year, which was decent for a player of Ian Wright''s caliber. However, there was an issue. The current Ian Wright wasn''t the same Ian Wright who had spent five years at Crystal Palace and scored 90 goals. Simply put, it was the butterfly effect.


    Richard wasn''t sure if it was his presence or something else, but if Ian Wright stood in front of him, he was undoubtedly different from the Ian Wright he once knew. Yet, based on his performances at Crystal Palace...


    Richard recalled his time as the wandering ghost, and Ian Wright indeed scored 9 goals in his first season with Crystal Palace. This was consistent with the previous season, where Ian also netted 9 goals for Palace.


    There was a high probability that if he had accepted Crystal Palace chairman''s offer to keep Ian Wright, the likelihood was that, over the next five years, he would have achieved the same feat¡ª90 goals in more than 200 matches.


    But what if Ian Wright moved to Arsenal right now?


    Would the remaining 81 goals he still had to score at Crystal Palace transfer over to Arsenal?


    Is it possible?


    Wouldn''t that mean Ian Wright could end up scoring over 200 goals, or even more?


    Then how can I motivate Ian Wright to be the best he can be?


    The current him is probably content with a contract like this, but he knows that Ian''s potential goes beyond what''s currently on the table.


    Seeing Richard still silent, Dein pressed, "As an agent, you should be able to see the trends in football. If you do a bit of research on Arsenal, you will notice that we have a higher chance of winning the league next season. Would you really say no to such an opportunity for your client?"


    "I do get your point," Richard said, sighing and shaking his head. ''But ¡ê400 per week for a five-year contract is simply too long."


    Everyone was taken aback at this.


    Richard didn''t let their minds wander. "¡ê400 per week for a three-year contract," he said, pausing for a moment. "Plus a goal bonus of ¡ê5,000 for every 15 goals. And if Arsenal wins the League and Ian Wright becomes top scorer, I want an extra ¡ê10,000 bonus for him, on top of the club''s bonus."


    Wright''s heart was already racing. Originally, he was anxious, wondering why Richard had refused their offer. But thinking about it now, with the bonus Richard suggested, if he managed to rack up some goals, wouldn''t he be making at least more than ¡ê50,000 over the next two seasons?


    Of course! ¡ê20,800 a year was not enough.


    Ian Wright, now 28 years old, was already at the peak of his career. This was his prime age, and Richard was determined to get Ian Wright the contract he deserved. If it were a performance-based contract, surely Arsenal would be willing to pay him what he earned.


    Dein and Graham seemed to be having an internal discussion.


    Richard then sat down with Ian alone and explained further.


    "I''m just looking out for your career," Richard said. "As long as you don''t change your style of play, you''ll be fine. Oh, by the way, there''s someone I need you to look out for when you join Arsenal. His name is Andy Cole. He''s currently loaned to Fulham, but please keep an eye on him if you meet him later."


    Ian raised an eyebrow. Was he really so sure that Arsenal would accept the offer?


    Finally, Dein came back and took his seat. "Then, we''re in agreement," he said. "So, let''s discuss the next steps."


    The next step was to discuss the signing bonus and the agent fee, which was actually very small, and it was understandable considering Ian''s performance at Crystal Palace could be considered good but also not outstanding.


    This was essentially a bet.


    If Ian performed well in the next two seasons, then when Arsenal extended their hand for another contract, that would be the real contract negotiation.

 Chapter 59 - 59: Preparation

    Early in the morning, Richard had already arrived at Arsenal Stadium, waiting for Ian Wright''s debut. Their opponent was Leicester City, and they were playing the match for the League Cup.


    That night was definitely the night of counter-attacking for Arsenal, perfectly suited to Ian Wright''s frightening pace as he finally showed why Arsenal needed him.


    The game turned in a nine-minute spell around halftime. There wasn''t much happening until the 44th minute when Paul Davis supplied Wright, 25 yards out on the left of the penalty area.


    Wright seemed to slip but recovered as he drove a precise and penetrating low shot off the inside of the far post.


    "GOAAAAALLLL!!! IAN WRIGHT MAKES A DREAM DEBUT!!!" the commentator screamed as Wright ran, tearing off his shirt in celebration.


    Yes, Richard also clenched his fist seeing this goal.


    Sadly, Arsenal was caught in the last minute when skipper Walsh escaped Tony Adams and headed home Tommy Wright''s corner. It was disappointing, but as long as Ian does right, there are many goals to come.


    In the next match against Southampton, Richard had already left London, but he didn''t expect to miss Ian producing a hat-trick on his league debut. He could only watch the replay in disappointment.


    19-year-old midfielder Steve McManaman also scores his first goal for Manchester City in a 2¨C1 defeat against Liverpool at Maine Road.


    At the close of the first half of the 1991¨C1992 season, a proposal was tabled to establish a new league aimed at bringing more money into the game overall. The Football Association won High Court approval, ahead of the Football League, to launch the new Premier League for the following season.


    The Founder Members Agreement, signed by the top-flight clubs, outlined the basic principles for setting up the FA Premier League.


    This meant the newly formed top division would have commercial independence from the Football Association and the Football League, allowing the FA Premier League to negotiate its own broadcast and sponsorship agreements.


    The reasoning behind this was that the extra income would enable English clubs to compete with teams across Europe.


    This plan was spearheaded by Greg Dyke, the managing director of London Weekend Television, which was also part of ITV. His main goal was to have ITV broadcast the new Premier League. However, ironically, Dyke lost out in the bidding for the broadcast rights.


    BSkyB won with a bid of ¡ê304 million over five years, while the BBC was awarded the highlights package for Match of the Day. With everything settled, the new Premier League would debut the following year.


    Richard tapped his fingers on the table, his mind racing. Rumor had it that BSkyB was losing ¡ê10 million a week. And let''s not forget, they dropped Eurosport not long after Sky Sports launched.


    Would he want to be part of this? However, the person who owns BSkyB¡ªwhat if he doesn''t need the money?


    The owner of the TV station is Rupert Murdoch, the media mogul from America. Except during a public offering, he definitely wouldn''t want any interference in the management of BSkyB. After all, he knows how to run his companies.


    Rupert Murdoch, the powerful media mogul, owns several media companies in the UK, such as the Daily Mirror, Sunday Mirror, The Sunday Times, and News of the World. He''s so influential that it''s said even the Prime Minister is afraid of him. His power through the media is undeniable.


    "Forget it," Richard decided after thinking about the pros and cons, especially the phone hacking scandal that might happen. It''s better to join when they start doing an IPO rather than make an approach.


    17-year-old winger Ryan Giggs scores his first league goal of the season in Manchester United''s 3¨C0 home win over Norwich City.


    A mere 3,231 fans watch Wimbledon''s home game against Luton Town ¨C the lowest postwar attendance at a First Division game.


    To the national team, a year into his reign as England manager, Graham Taylor sees the national side lose for the first time when they go down 1¨C0 to a reunified Germany side in a friendly at Wembley.


    Dean Saunders became the first player to score four goals in a European game for Liverpool as they defeated Kuusysi Lahti 6¨C1 at Anfield in the UEFA Cup first round, first leg.


    Alan Smith of Arsenal also scored four in a 6-1 European win, at home to Austria Vienna, in the European Cup first round, first leg.


    Before Boxing Day 1991/1992 began, the two teams battling at the top of the First Division were Arsenal and Leeds United. In the top scorer race, Ian Wright led with 16 goals, followed by Gary Lineker with 14 goals, and in third place was Lee Chapman from Leeds United with 13 goals.


    TRING!


    While waiting, Richard''s phone started ringing, and he answered it.


    "Okay, thank you very much for your help, Mr. Smith."


    "No worries, goodbye," came the voice from the other side before Richard hung up the phone.


    He sighed in relief. Finally, the Cisco IPO had gone smoothly. On the first day of the public offering, the share price was $18 per share, and Cisco''s stock closed at $22, marking a 22% rise.


    On the second day, he was finally able to place his bid. Thanks to the help of Barclays, he managed to purchase a total of 448,900 shares at $22.32 each for 10 million pounds, giving him a 3.61% ownership in Cisco.


    Richard couldn''t shake the feeling of disappointment. If only he had managed to get his hands on more¡ªjust 10 percent¡ªand, in a sense, he had already settled for life totally.


    Manchester City started the season strong, so dominant that they began with a hat-trick of wins: a 1-0 victory at Coventry, followed by a 2-1 defeat of Liverpool, and a 3-2 win over Crystal Palace, all at Maine Road.


    The Blues remained unbeaten with a 0-0 draw at Norwich but then suffered their first setback, losing 2-1 to Arsenal at Highbury. Despite the defeat, they sat in a lofty third place in the league after five games.


    They maintained a 100% home record by beating Nottingham Forest 2-1 and securing another 2-1 win at West Ham, leaving Peter Reid''s side in 6th position after six games.


    However, on their travels, City suffered a 3-0 loss to Leeds. Two more defeats followed: a 1-0 loss to Sheffield Wednesday and a 1-0 defeat to Everton, both at Maine Road.


    The ship was steadied with a 1-0 win at Tottenham before City suffered a spate of injuries in a 2-1 home defeat against Oldham. Niall Quinn, Keith Curle, and Andy Hill all looked likely to be out for at least the next game.


    City''s league form continued through Christmas with a fourth away win on the trot, a 3-0 victory at Southampton.


    Colin Hendry''s two-year spell at Maine Road ended on November 7 as he moved to Blackburn for ¡ê750,000. City then drew 0-0 at Maine Road against rivals Manchester United.


    It was six games unbeaten as City drew 2-2 at Luton, leaving them well-positioned in the league, in 3rd place with 30 points.


    A further draw in the league, 0-0 at home to Wimbledon, was followed by City''s exit from the League Cup, where they were beaten 2-1 at Middlesbrough in the 4th round.


    A first defeat in eight league games saw City beaten 3-1 at Aston Villa, and then the Blues drew 2-2 with QPR at Maine Road, dropping to 5th in the league but level on points with third-placed Sheffield Wednesday.


    A good Christmas period followed, with a 2-1 Boxing Day win against Norwich and then a 1-0 win over Arsenal two days later, both at Maine Road.


    At the end of the year, Clive Allen moved to Chelsea.


    The first day of 1992 brought a 1-1 draw at Chelsea, but then in the FA Cup, City were knocked out by their bogey side, Middlesbrough, 2-1 in the 3rd Round.


    Back to the league, the Blues drew 1-1 at Crystal Palace. Peter Reid''s men were now 4th, equal on points with 3rd-place Liverpool but 11 points behind leaders Leeds.


    The Blues kept the pressure on at the top with two 1-0 wins at Maine Road against Coventry and Tottenham before a disappointing 4-2 defeat at Sheffield United.


    City looked unbeatable as they disposed of Luton 4-0; however, away from Manchester, the Blues were struggling. They were beaten 2-1 at Wimbledon and 4-0 at QPR, where Les Ferdinand scored a brace.


    For the first time in a long while, after 32 games, the Citizens had 53 points and were still in a lofty 4th position.


    Leeds'' visit to Maine Road produced an excellent 4-0 win for Peter Reid''s side, followed by a battling 1-1 draw at Old Trafford against Manchester United.


    The Blues were still struggling on their travels, and it was 13 away matches without a win as they lost 2-0 at Sheffield Wednesday.


    City then beat West Ham 2-0 at Maine Road, and finally, at the 14th attempt, the Blues won away from home 2-1 against Everton at Goodison Park.


    At the end of the season, City finished in style, beating Notts County 2-0 at Maine Road, followed by a 5-2 win at Oldham in the last game of the campaign, securing an excellent 5th-place finish in the league.


    After the 1991/1992 season ended, Richard was disappointed. Defending champions Arsenal slipped to fourth place and were never a serious threat to retain their title, which meant Ian Wright had not won the championship that year.


    The happy news, however, was that Ian Wright became the top scorer in the First Division with 29 goals. Below him was Gary Lineker with 28 goals. Richard was very pleased with the result.


    The last league championship before the creation of the Premier League was won by Leeds United. They simply capitalized on Manchester United''s slip-ups toward the end of the season.


    Anyone who watched Manchester United''s final match could clearly see Sir Alex Ferguson standing silently on the sidelines, fuming over his team''s failure.


    They couldn''t help it. Gordon Strachan, the former Manchester United winger, was a key leader for Leeds, while Lee Chapman, the team''s main striker, scored crucial goals throughout the campaign. David Batty provided tough tackling, Gary Speed brought energy to the midfield, and Gary McAllister orchestrated Leeds'' play.


    Together, they overhauled Manchester United.


    Back to Richard¡ªjust as he was about to call Ian to congratulate him on becoming the top scorer, his phone rang first. He picked it up.


    "Hello?"


    "Mr. Richard, it''s me, Adam."


    Adam Lewis, the go-to Premier League lawyer who had represented Manchester City in their 115 FFP violation case in the future.


    "Adam, how are you? Why are you calling me?"


    "There has been progress in the Jean-Marc Bosman case," Adam reported. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Immediately, Richard''s face became serious.

 Chapter 60 - 60: Bosman Challenged The System

    Without Jean-Marc Bosman, no player would be a free agent.


    In 1990, the Belgian footballer found himself unable to leave RFC Liege even though his contract had expired. The club refused to let him transfer unless it received a transfer fee.


    Belgian professional footballer Jean-Marc Bosman wanted to sign a contract with a French club. However his Belgian club blocked his desired move, even though his contract with the club had expired. He began a legal battle which resulted in all professional footballers becoming free agents at the end of their contracts.


    As everyone knows, the current football transfer system was based on a rule where clubs could demand a transfer fee for a player even after their contract had ended if the player was moving to a foreign club.


    This was an obstacle for Bosman, who wanted to move freely, without being restricted by his former club''s demands.


    In addition, the Belgian Football Association also refused to allow Bosman to move to Dunkirk unless a transfer fee was paid, as was customary in such transfers. This left Bosman in a difficult situation, unable to join a club of his choice and unable to play football.


    Richard had always been someone who looked beyond the present. He had a knack for foreseeing the implications of things before most people even realized their significance.


    The Bosman ruling was no exception.


    He had already inquired about Adam Lewis avalaibility, a legal expert, to keep a close eye on the situation.


    Blackstone Chambers, where Lewis practiced, was certainly happy as long as their bills were paid. But Lewis? The moment he heard about the case, he was thrilled. Without hesitation, he booked a flight straight to Belgium.


    The case had begun in 1990, when a relatively unknown Belgian footballer, Jean-Marc Bosman, found himself in a frustrating predicament.


    Bosman had been playing for RFC Li¨¨ge for two years when his contract expired that summer. He wanted to sign with Dunkerque, a French club, but there was a problem.


    The club sent the midfielder a new offer, which reduced his salary to 25 percent of his previous income. Bosman of course refused to sign such a contract and was put on the transfer list with a fee of approximately 500,000 euro.


    No club showed interest until Bosman approached Dunkerque. The French club came to an agreement with Liege, however the Belgian club had doubts about Dunkerque''s solvency and withheld the necessary transfer certificate.


    Despite his contract expiring, RFC Li¨¨ge refused to let him go unless they received a transfer fee and they then suspended Bosman for the entire season.


    This was standard practice at the time¡ªor to be exact, the Belgian transfer rules allowed a club to suspend a player if both parties could not agree on a new contract, especially if the player was moving to a foreign team. Clubs could still demand a fee for a player even if their contract had ended.


    This was in line with football''s transfer rules at the time, which required players moving between clubs in different countries to be subject to a transfer fee, even if their contract had expired.


    To make matters worse, the Belgian Football Association backed Li¨¨ge, refusing to issue the necessary transfer certificate. Effectively, Bosman was trapped¡ªhe couldn''t move clubs, and he couldn''t play football.


    This injustice led him to take legal action. Eight days after being suspended from playing, he filed a lawsuit against RFC Li¨¨ge and the Belgian FA for violating his right to employment and free movement within the European Union.


    For Bosman, it was personal. But for the football world, it was about to become historic.


    Richard was on a call with Adam Lewis, discussing the case.


    "Right now, he is suing UEFA as part of the proceedings. They are the ones responsible for drafting the transfer system rules," Lewis explained.


    "UEFA?" Richard was taken aback.


    He had assumed Bosman''s fight was strictly against RFC Li¨¨ge and the Belgian FA. But now, UEFA¡ªthe governing body of European football¡ªwas also in the line of fire. He did not expect Bosman to drag UEFA into it. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Yes. He argues that the transfer rules and nationality clauses should not apply to him, referring to European labor laws," Lewis continued.


    Richard chuckled. "Did he come up with all this himself?"


    "Of course not! Do you think he''s Superman or something?" Lewis laughed. "He has a lawyer guiding him."


    Richard leaned back, thinking. "How long do you think this case will take?"


    "Four or five years, maybe. This isn''t just about one player¡ªit''s about shaking up an entire system after all."


    "Is there any way to speed it up?"


    Lewis sighed. "Not really. And I can''t directly involve myself in his case."


    That made sense. Lewis, as a barrister, had the right to represent clients in court, but the Belgian legal system didn''t work like the UK''s. In Belgium, all lawyers could represent clients in court¡ªthere was no split between barristers and solicitors.


    If Lewis forced his way into the case, it could complicate the case or lead to potential ethical conflicts.


    "Don''t worry," Lewis reassured him. "His lawyer is sharp. I''ve worked with him before. He''s more than capable."


    "Still, two heads are better than one. Plus, the Belgian FA and UEFA are on the same side," Richard pointed out.


    "Hmm, actually, I don''t mind working behind the scenes if the payment is good," Lewis finally admitted. He can work like a solicitor, handling legal matters outside of court.


    After all he was very interested in the case himself. That''s why he had flown straight to Belgium. However, he hadn''t expected to be too late¡ªBosman had already chosen his lawyer. Now, all he could do was wait and see how the process would unfold.


    That was exactly what Richard wanted to hear. "Do it then! We can draw up a contract."


    "We''ll sort it out later," Lewis replied, his voice hurried. "Gotta go."


    The line went dead.


    Richard grinned as he put his brick phone back in his pocket. That''s when he noticed something.


    A beautiful woman stood in front of him, waiting patiently for him to finish his call.


    "Sir, this is the McLaren F1 catalog you requested," she said warmly, handing him a sleek brochure.


    It was only then that Richard fully remembered. He had come here to buy a car, but he had been so caught up in the Bosman case that he had momentarily forgotten.

 Chapter 61 - 61: Supercar

    H.R. Owen is a premier luxury motor retailer in the UK and one of the largest in the world, specializing in high-end car brands. Headquartered in London, its showroom in Mayfair is the world''s oldest, displaying a selection of the world''s most sought-after vehicles.


    When Richard arrived at the showroom for the first time, he was taken aback. ''Isn''t this supposed to be a car dealership? Why can''t I just see the cars? This looks more like a shopping mall,''


    the world''s oldest showroom also located in Mayfair, already opened attracting customers from around the world and displaying a selection of the worlds most sort after vehicles.


    When Richard arrived for the first time, the question that crossed his mind was, ''Isn''t this a car dealership? Why can''t I see just the cars? This looks like a shopping mall.''


    "Our Jack Barclay Avenue flagship store has three floors,"


    Only then Richard heard a sound behind him. So he turned around only to see a beautiful female agent wearing a fitted black jacket with a silver logo on the lapel, paired with a white blouse that added a touch of sophistication.


    While she spoke, she quickly glanced at him. No watches, no cufflinks, or briefcase like Londoners usually carried, but with a Charvet bespoke silk shirt, vicu?a wool chinos, and hand-painted patina Berluti leather shoes, she instantly categorized him as a low-profile, high-caliber client.


    "The first floor is a shopping area, offering high-quality products ranging from clothing and leather goods to household items, as well as models of sports cars tailored to different customer lifestyles."


    Richard gave an inward thumbs-up. ''In a recession like this, they''ve built a three-story showroom. I wonder who''s actually going to buy.''


    She continued her explanation, "The second floor is the showroom and sales area, and the third floor is dedicated to our after-sales center, sir." She paused briefly before asking, "How shall I address you, Sir?"


    "Just Richard is fine," he replied with a smile, casually waving his hand before turning his attention to the various luxury items on display.


    Losing interest in the other items, he turned back to the lady. "Do you have a catalogue I can look at? Or can I see the car?" S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Of course, please follow me," the lady said. In her heart, she had already categorized Richard as a high-caliber client. Her smile grew more enthusiastic and sincere.


    She led Richard to the second floor, where a spacious exhibition hall was filled with some of the most coveted luxury vehicles in the world. As they walked, she began detailing the cars available.


    "We have a wide selection, sir¡ªRolls-Royce, Bentley, Ferrari, Aston Martin, Maserati, Lamborghini, McLaren, and Bugatti. But what makes our showroom truly unique is the McLaren F1. We are one of the few places that have the privilege of offering this rare supercar."


    Richard''s interest piqued at the mention of rarity. "Is it very rare?"


    "There were only 106 units ever produced, making this a true collector''s item. Owning one isn''t just about the performance¡ªit''s about being part of automotive history."


    Richard smiled, impressed by the rarity and exclusivity of the car. "That sounds incredible. Then, please bring me the catalogue to have a look."


    "Of course, sir. Would you like a drink while you wait?" the agent asked.


    "Orange juice, if you have it," Richard replied.


    "Please wait here, sir," she said, before walking off to fetch the catalogue.


    Back to the present moment, after flipping through the catalogue, Richard was satisfied. He didn''t understand much, but he casually admired the sleek design of the car.


    However, it was only a catalogue, not the real thing. After all, sports cars, especially top sports cars, often have a huge gap between the pictures and the actual thing itself.


    So, he immediately asked to see the actual car itself before he decides. After arriving on the second floor, Richard couldn''t help but be stunned by the scene before him.


    The car stood proudly at the center of the exhibition hall, commanding attention like a masterpiece on display.


    Under the brilliant showroom lights, even without moving, it was enough to make anyone''s heart race.


    "Pheww¡­" Richard whistled, his eyes locked onto the car, unable to look away.


    The McLaren F1, with its low, aggressive stance, looked like a beast just waiting to be unleashed. Its body was sculpted to perfection, designed for speed, and coated in a majestic navy blue paint that gleamed under the lights. The black carbon fiber trim framed its curves, enhancing its sleek, aerodynamic profile.


    The female agent smiled, noticing his awe. "This beauty is powered by a naturally aspirated 6.1-liter V12 engine, capable of going from 0 to 60 mph in just 3.2 seconds. With a top speed of 240 mph, it was once the world''s fastest production car. And don''t forget the central driving position¡ªit''s designed to make you feel like you''re the only one on the road."


    Richard''s interest was piqued. "Can I see it?"


    "Of course, sir. Let me assist you."


    Then, he saw it¡ªthe way the doors opened upward, revealing the stunning cockpit inside. The moment he laid eyes on the central seating position, Richard couldn''t help but think, ''Wild! It''s just like a Formula 1 car!''


    He admired the minimalist yet luxurious interior. The carbon fiber seats, the precision-crafted dashboard, and the hand-stitched controls all spoke of an unwavering commitment to quality.


    "Wait, why is there another seat here?" Richard asked as he looked toward the additional seat on the right, tucked neatly into the design.


    "This is for the passenger, sir. But despite having it, the unique central driving position provides superior visibility compared to a conventional layout," she continued. "This car was conceived as the ultimate road-going machine, and even now, it''s still considered one of the fastest production road cars in history."


    After that, she introduced the engine, mentioning terms like turbochargers and superchargers, making Richard dizzy.


    "Wait, doesn''t that mean this car can''t really be used for daily driving?" he finally noticed something urgent in her explanation.


    "Well... Sir, you could drive it daily, but it''s not exactly recommended," she answered reluctantly, clearly not wanting to be too direct.


    Richard felt a pang of disappointment. He had been seriously considering making this his first car, but if he couldn''t use it every day¡­ what was the point of buying it now?


    Seeing Richard''s disappointed expression, she grew anxious. "Sir, this car is a symbol of engineering perfection¡ªarguably one of the greatest road cars ever made. Or¡­" She hesitated briefly before continuing in a measured tone, "Perhaps you might consider the exclusive edition while selecting another car first?"


    "The exclusive edition?"


    "Yes, sir!" she began, spirited once again. "It''s still a prototype, but you can see the exterior model, sir. Please follow me. The name is McLaren F1 GTR..."


    She then began pitching the variant prototype.


    "Can I place an order now? Is the black model the only option at the moment?" Richard asked.


    Her eyes lit up. "Yes, sir! You can order a customized version, but the price will be higher."


    The exhibition hall on the second floor spanned nearly 300 square meters and only four cars were displayed at its center¡ªeach one a newly released model.


    Richard stopped in front of a yellow Porsche, instantly recognizing its iconic design.


    "Sir, this is the Porsche 911 Turbo 3.3," the female agent quickly introduced. "It''s perfect for daily use, offers incredible performance, and this model was just recently released."


    Richard ran his hand along the sleek body, admiring its curves. "Tell me more about it," he said, intrigued.


    She nodded enthusiastically. "It comes with a 3.3-liter turbocharged flat-six engine, producing over 300 horsepower. The acceleration is thrilling, and thanks to its rear-engine layout, the handling is incredibly responsive. Unlike the McLaren, this one is far more practical for everyday driving."


    "Can I test drive it?"


    She smiled and gestured toward the showroom exit. "Sure, sir. Please follow me. We have a dedicated test drive area just outside."


    The female agent took the passenger seat beside him. "This model is equipped with a four-speed manual transmission and can go from 0 to 60 mph in just 4.9 seconds. But more importantly, it''s an absolute joy to drive."


    Richard pressed the clutch, shifted into first gear, and slowly rolled out onto the test track. The moment he pressed the accelerator, the turbocharged flat-six engine roared to life, pushing him back into his seat.


    "Whoa..." Richard smirked, feeling the surge of power.


    The car glided smoothly through the track, with each turn showcasing its incredible handling. As he approached a straightaway, he shifted gears and floored the pedal¡ªthe turbo kicked in, and the 911 Turbo shot forward like a bullet.


    "Now this..." Richard said, his eyes gleaming, "feels like a proper daily car."


    The female agent chuckled. "So, sir, what do you think?"


    "It''s a damn good car, no doubt." He glanced at the agent. "What colors are available?"


    She immediately perked up. "Aside from this yellow model, we also have Guards Red, Grand Prix White, Black, and Midnight Blue. Of course, if you want a custom color, that can be arranged as well."


    Richard tapped the wheel thoughtfully. "And the price?"


    "For the standard model, you''re looking at around ¡ê60,000 But with custom options and modifications, it could go a bit higher."


    "Then let''s go with the standard one. The Midnight Blue looks nice¡ªnot too flashy but still elegant. And don''t forget about the McLaren."


    "Of course, sir! I''ll get everything arranged immediately. And regarding the McLaren F1, we will need to discuss further details. Since it''s an exclusive model, there''s a pre-order process, and we''ll have to finalize the customization options before confirming the purchase."


    "That''s fine. I''m in no rush."

 Chapter 62 - 62: Hectic transfer window

    The 1992¨C93 season was the 113th season of competitive football in England.


    This season saw the birth of the FA Premier League, which replaced Division One of the Football League as the top league in England.


    The competition format remained the same: every team in the Premier League played each other twice during the season, once away and once at home, earning three points for a win and one for a draw.


    Only the pyramid competition structure changed. The Premier League was formed as a limited company, with its clubs resigning from the English Football League to create a new entity.


    As a result, the English Football League no longer governed the top tier. The old Division Two was now called the First Division, the old Division Three became the Second Division, and the old Division Four was now the Third Division.


    League Structure After the Change:


    FA Premier League ¡ú 1st tier


    First Division ¡ú 2nd tier


    Second Division ¡ú 3rd tier


    Third Division ¡ú 4th tier


    At the start of the 1992/93 season, Richard was very busy.


    Almost all the players under him were making waves¡ªeither requesting transfers or attracting massive bids from other clubs.


    Blackburn Rovers made a bid for Alan Shearer, offering Southampton a record-breaking ¡ê3.5 million for an English player, plus David Speedie as part of the exchange.


    This transfer also marked the first time Richard''s third-party ownership scheme was put into action.


    This was possible because, from the beginning, Richard had invested in Alan Shearer, covering expenses like training and accommodation. In return, Alan agreed that Richard would be entitled to a percentage of the his future transfer fee.


    After the deal was completed, Richard hugged Alan and whispered, "Good luck on your journey."


    "Thank you," Alan replied gratefully.


    After Alan Shearer''s transfer was completed, Richard''s focus shifted to the duo of Teddy Sheringham and Tony Cascarino from Millwall.


    In the previous season, even though people doubted their ability to replicate their record-breaking goal tally from the Second Division, they managed to silence the skeptics. Cascarino still scored 12 goals, while Sheringham impressed with 21 goals.


    Aston Villa made a ¡ê1.1 million bid for Tony Cascarino, while Nottingham Forest offered ¡ê2 million for Teddy Sheringham.


    By this point, Cascarino had already proven himself as a capable top-flight striker, showing that he could compete at the highest level. Eager for a new challenge, he readily accepted the move.


    At the same time, Richard''s third-party ownership for Tony Cascarino was activated.


    While Alan Shearer''s case was based on an early investment, Cascarino''s case was different¡ªRichard had purchased his club contract when he was still a player at Gillingham, securing a stake in his future transfers.


    The concept of "parking a player" came into effect in this scheme. Owning the contract allowed Richard, as the third-party owner, to maximize profits by placing Cascarino at Millwall until his value appreciated, enabling him to earn a percentage of the transfer fee.


    As for Sheringham, just as Millwall was about to accept Nottingham Forest''s ¡ê2 million bid, Tottenham Hotspur swooped in with a surprise counteroffer, outbidding Forest with a ¡ê2.1 million bid.


    This last-minute move secured Sheringham''s signature, making him a Spurs player instead. Tottenham wanted to fill the gap left in attack by Gary Lineker''s departure during the close season.


    Finally, the last player to request a transfer was Andy Cole.


    After signing his first professional contract in 1989, Cole made just one league appearance for Arsenal, coming on as a substitute against Sheffield United. He also featured as a substitute in the 1991 Charity Shield against Tottenham Hotspur.


    Two seasons, two appearances¡ªboth as a substitute. In that same season, anticipating Ian Wright''s arrival, Arsenal loaned Cole to Fulham in the Third Division, where he managed to score three goals in 13 matches.


    Now, if Richard followed the same trajectory, Cole would soon be loaned to a Second Division side, Bristol City. This was why he requested a transfer from Richard¡ªhe wanted more playing time and stability rather than staying at Arsenal.


    Richard found himself in a difficult position until he decided to call Arsenal''s George Graham and David Dein. He was already familiar with them from previous discussions regarding Ian Wright''s transfer.


    At first, Arsenal was reluctant to let a promising young talent leave so easily. However, Richard argued that Cole had very limited playing time, and with Ian Wright as Arsenal''s current spearhead, his chances of breaking into the first team were even slimmer.


    Of course, Richard also used his leverage with Ian Wright. During previous contract discussions, he had made a bet to change the contract duration from four years to two.


    Now, he knew his decision was correct. It was time to discuss Ian Wright''s contract extension with Arsenal.


    After an impressive season where he became the league''s top scorer, there was no way Arsenal would let him go, especially considering the fact that they only managed to finish fourth last season.


    Right there on the spot, Ian Wright¡ªinitially surprised by the sudden contract talks¡ªquickly realized that his contract was set to expire next season and hurriedly joined the discussion.


    Richard successfully negotiated an increase from around ¡ê20,000 per year to ¡ê40,000 per year with a four-year duration, keeping the same terms and conditions. Ian was absolutely delighted with this..


    Once Wright''s deal was secured, the focus shifted to Andy Cole.


    "I will buy out his contract. Name your price," Richard stated directly, catching Graham and Dein off guard.


    "Are you sure?" Dein asked again, his brows slightly raised.


    Richard nodded without hesitation. The discussion about Andy Cole continued, with both sides negotiating back and forth.


    Arsenal knew they couldn''t promise Cole regular playing time, but they also didn''t want to let a talented young striker go for cheap. After some deliberation, they finally settled on a fee of ¡ê500,000.


    After the discussion was complete, Richard shook hands with Arsenal vice-chairman David Dein and manager George Graham.


    Cole was soon notified by Richard that the deal had been finalized, and he quickly bid farewell to his teammates at Arsenal before following Richard to Bristol City.


    Vroom-vroom... click, the gear shift followed by a deep whoooosh as the car surged forward, effortlessly devouring the road beneath it.


    The whiiiiine of the turbocharged engine echoed in the morning air, while the deep rummmmble of the exhaust reverberated through the streets.


    Inside Richard''s new Porsche, Cole couldn''t help but feel a pang of envy as he watched the buildings blur by. He couldn''t help but think, ''I wish I had a car like this.''


    The high-pitched whine of the RPMs climbing was like music to their ears as the car sliced through the empty streets¡ªcrisp, raw, and exhilarating.


    The engine''s powerful hum seemed to be the only thing that mattered, propelling Richard closer to his destination: Ashton Gate, home of Bristol City.


    Finally, they approached Bristol, Richard gradually slowed the car. He glanced at his watch and smiled with satisfaction.


    "How was it? Two hours and ten minutes. This is my first time driving this car out of London, you know?" S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As they neared a red light, Richard eased off the accelerator, and the car settled into a steady rhythmic thrum-thrum, a sound that almost made Richard feel a rush of excitement, a sensation as intense as an orgasm.


    ''When will I be able to get a car like this?''


    Cole didn''t answer, but from the moment they started the drive, he couldn''t help but grip the leather dashboard, rubbing it gently like it was some kind of rare artifact. It was almost as if he didn''t want to reach Bristol at all; he just wanted to stay in the car forever.


    "Hahaha, don''t worry. Just be patient. Probably in a year or two, you''ll have your own Porsche."


    "Really?"


    "Of course," Richard said with a confident smile. ''You''re kidding me, right?'' Richard laughed inwardly.


    This is Andy Cole we''re talking about¡ªthe player famous for his trademark Cole turn, a quick change of direction that leaves defenders flat-footed. How could he not believe in him?


    "I''m willing to accept your offer, then." Cole said decisively.


    "You sure?" Richard asked once again, but he already saw Cole picking up the pen and signing the new contract he had given him.


    This was no ordinary contract¡ªit was part of the Third-party ownership agreement, where Richard would own 20% of Cole''s economic rights.


    Cole believed in himself, but he also trusted Richard. Richard had decisively purchased his contract for ¡ê500,000 and, without hesitation, took him all the way from Highbury, London, to Bristol.


    In fact, Bristol City had already contacted Arsenal regarding Andy Cole''s availability and were prepared to accept him. However, Richard''s decision to purchase Andy Cole''s contract came as a surprise.


    Without further notice, Bristol City was left in the dark. Richard knew that making a strong first impression was crucial, so he decided to head there personally and take control of the situation.


    Michael Dennis Mills was the owner of Bristol City Football Club since 1985. However, the key operations and day-to-day activities were overseen by the club''s Chief Executive, Colin Sexstone.


    Sexston was shocked when he heard that Andy Cole''s contract had been baught, but soon, a sense of relief followed because it meant they wouldn''t have to pay a transfer fee.


    Richard shook his head. "¡ê25,000 if Bristol City manage to reach the Premier League next season and an extra ¡ê25,000 if he manages to become the top scorer. Also, if Cole manages to reach a total of 20 goals this season in all competitions, then an extra ¡ê25,000. As for the salary, we''ll do the standard. How is it?"


    Cole was shocked, as were Sexston and the club directors. "Ridiculous!" they wanted to reject it, but Sexton raised his hand to stop them from speaking.


    "We will discuss it first," he said.


    "Understood. We will stay here for a day. I hope that after two days, there will be some clarity," Richard said.


    Bristol was really interested in Andy Cole, and Richard knew it, but he also knew that Arsenal wouldn''t let him go cheaply, which is why they wanted a loan. His intervention here worked in their favor, as they didn''t have to spend money to recruit him.


    "¡ê100,000?! Impossible. A young player like him, we don''t even know his real capabilities!"


    "But if he succeeds¡ª"


    "Impossible!"


    Seeing the discussion was about to get heated, Sexston finally waved his hand. "First, it''s a contribution-based payment, so there''s still a way to avoid it. Plus, who would have thought a 22-year-old player would consistently play with an average rating above 7 per match?"


    Another clause that Richard requested was, as long as Andy Cole''s average rating is above 7, he must get more than 50 minutes of playing time at least, so there would be no reason for Bristol not to play Cole to avoid the contract.


    "Moreover, there are still injuries and other factors. Actually, I think this deal is beneficial for us. What do you think?"


    Only after Sexton explained did they suddenly realize there was some truth to what he said.


    Back to Richard and any cool scenes.


    In the hotel room, Cole pulled Richard aside and couldn''t help but ask, "Why are there so many incentives you''re asking for? The salary alone is already good enough."


    Richard countered with a smile, "Didn''t you say you wanted to buy a Porsche like mine?"


    Cole finally realized and was touched by Richard''s words. He promised himself that he would score as many goals as possible to make it happen.


    The next day, the deal was finalized, and finally, Richard''s busy day in this transfer market came to an end.


    Alan Shearer ¨C Blackburn Rovers moved from Southampton for ¡ê3.5 million.


    Teddy Sheringham ¨C Tottenham Hotspur moved from Millwall for ¡ê2.1 million.


    Tony Cascarino ¨C Aston Villa moved from Millwall for ¡ê1.1 million.


    Andy Cole ¨C Bristol City moved from Arsenal for ¡ê1.75 million.

 Chapter 63 - 63: City Internal Turmoil

    There weren''t many notable transfers during the 1992/1993 season, but before Richard closed his book, another transfer occurred in the final moments: Zidane moved from Cannes to Bordeaux. Richard personally went to France to facilitate the transfer.


    Not only that, the new Premier League sponsorship deals offered by Bass Breweries and Ford Motor Company were rejected, leading Richard to place a ¡ê10 million bid, making Maddox Capital the first sponsor of the league


    After returning from France, Richard soon read through the details of the new Premier League clubs but found his attention drawn to one team¡ªManchester United.


    Cantona left Leeds for Manchester United for ¡ê1 million. Another interesting aspect was the presence of Gary Neville, 17-year-old defender, David Beckham, and 17-year-old Nicky Butt in the United squad.


    The day that was eagerly awaited has arrived finally.


    The new FA Premier League began.


    The first goal was scored by Sheffield United striker Brian Deane in the fifth minute of a 2¨C1 home win over Manchester United.


    Alan Shearer began his Blackburn Rovers career with two goals against Crystal Palace in a 3¨C3 draw at Selhurst Park.


    Sky Sports broadcast their first live Premier League game, where Teddy Sheringham scored the only goal as Nottingham Forest beat Liverpool at the City Ground.


    In Division One, Bristol City and Portsmouth drew 3¨C3 in a thrilling match at Ashton Gate, with Andy Cole scoring for Bristol City.


    By the time September came around, Alan Shearer scored his tenth Premier League goal for Blackburn Rovers in his tenth appearance in a 2¨C0 defeat of Oldham Athletic at Ewood Park.


    Manchester City, however, was full of misery during this time.


    Let''s not even discuss their performance on the pitch. In the previous season, Paul Lake suffered a severe knee injury, which turned out to be a torn ligament.


    Richard personally visited him to offer encouragement as both of them had come to a halt due to injury.


    Lake made a last-ditch attempt to save his career with a trip to LA to see the number one expert on cruciate ligament repairs. However, his efforts didn''t receive a positive response from the current City chairman, Peter Swales.


    Richard knew about this because Lake had reached out to him, aware of his personal retirement due to an injury, just like him. With this information, Richard formulated a plan, knowing that his numerous connections would come in handy.


    Soon, everyone could see it in the newspapers and on various media outlets.


    The Official Magazine of Manchester City wrote in their "City" column: "City is unwilling to spend a single penny on the player''s treatment."


    Mirror Sport wrote, "Swales saw Paul Lake''s injury as both an irritant and an embarrassment. He gave the distinct impression that his own player was the failure, and that my ongoing knee problem was somehow his fault and nobody else''s."


    The Sun, even more radical in writing the news, brought in a former City specialist doctor, now acting as their whistleblower.


    Paul Lake then appeared for an interview and said, "Chairman Swales wasn''t exactly cock-a-hoop about the trip, loath to foot the bill, and reluctant to admit any culpability for my predicament... Even Withington and Wythenshawe Hospital admitted they could not treat me."


    On the eve of the trip to LA, Lake, without Richard''s instruction, stoked the fires further in an interview published in The Sunday People. He claimed the club was treating him like a piece of meat left to hang in an abattoir.


    BANG!


    The chair of Chairman Peter Swales went sprawling to the ground as he gasped.


    In front of him stood Vice Chairman Sydney Rose, the NHS consultant surgeon from Withington and Wythenshawe Hospital, who crumpled the newspaper. "Who dares to drag my hospital into this?!!"


    He then rushed forward and grabbed Swales by the collar. "How could you let this happen..?!!"


    That very same night, Richard received a phone call from Miss Heysen, the senior secretary at Manchester City, whom he had first met when he came to Maine Road.


    "You mean they really fought?"


    "Yes, I heard it myself¡­" she replied.


    After listening to her explanation, Richard thanked her and thought for a moment before grabbing his Porsche keys and deciding to drive to Withington and Wythenshawe Hospital himself.


    When he arrived, he found himself at a loss for words.


    A bruised face. Swollen eyes. Cuts. The man sitting before him was barely recognizable as Manchester City''s vice chairman, Sidney Rose.


    Sidney glanced up, recognizing Richard immediately. With a tired wave of his hand, he muttered, "Take it. Give me your best price."


    He exhaled heavily, adjusting himself and trying to cover his battered face. "Let me tell you¡ªanother consortium is still in the bid for Manchester City. So if you want it, you better offer something good."


    Richard raised an eyebrow. "Which consortium?" sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Sidney grumbled with a shrug, as if resigned to the situation. "Francis Lee''s consortium."


    "Francis Lee?" Richard was taken aback.


    The name was far from unfamiliar. Francis Lee had once been a director of Manchester City, but more importantly, he had played for the club between 1967 and 1974, winning multiple major trophies, including the 1969 FA Cup, the 1970 League Cup, and the 1970 Cup Winners'' Cup.


    "Where did he get his money from? Do you know who he''s been in contact with?" Richard asked, keeping his voice neutral.


    "His paper and horse racing business has been successful. You better move fast if you want to take control," Sidney muttered before pausing for a moment and giving a hint. "If I knew all of this, then probably all the members have already been contacted. They''re only waiting for you now to offer a better price."


    "What about Swales? How''s the situation inside the club? It''s been a while since I was last there," Richard asked.


    At the mention of Swales'' name, Sidney¡ªalready bruised and swollen¡ªsomehow managed to look even worse. His expression twisted with anger and resentment, making him seem even less human.


    "That bastard," Sidney gritted his teeth before sighing and looking toward Richard. "I can''t give you the details, but one thing''s for sure¡ªthe club can''t be saved."


    ''Meaning it''s really bad,'' Richard thought, nodding before finalizing the transaction.


    Sidney Rose 43 shares (2.09%) ¡ú Richard Maddox


    Richard''s next meeting was with John Humphreys, the Vice President and Managing Director of the family-owned sportswear manufacturer, Umbro.


    As he drove his Porsche through the dimly lit streets, the radio crackled with news reports:


    "A week ago, the UK''s leading telecommunications manufacturer, GEC, announced 750 job cuts, citing redundancies. This brings the total job losses across the UK this month to over 4,000 as the nation''s recession deepens."


    "The Bank of Credit and Commerce International has officially gone into liquidation."


    "Hopes for an economic recovery have been dashed as government figures reveal a 0.3% decline in GDP for the final quarter¡ªmarking six consecutive quarters of contraction. While there are slight signs of growth, they remain too weak to declare the recession over."


    SCREEECH!


    The sharp sound of tires skidding against the asphalt cut through the night as Richard arrived in Cheadle, Greater Manchester. It was already late, but thanks to his earlier call, the building''s lights were still on, casting a dim glow over the quiet surroundings.


    After a brief conversation with the night security guard, Richard was escorted to the meeting room, where John Humphreys was already waiting for him.


    When Richard came over, a bleak smile appeared on John''s face. "Richard, what a good move!"


    Using the recession and the city''s turmoil to buy up shares¡ªgiven the current situation, he had no choice. Heck, he even suspected that the conflict between Swales and Rose had been orchestrated by Richard himself!


    "How is the company now?" Richard asked instead.


    Hearing this, John thought Richard was teasing him, but seeing no expression on his face, he could only smile wryly. He shook his head, unwilling to talk about it.


    "Fine then, sell me your shares," Richard said directly.


    "Haha!" Vince laughed out loud and said, "That will depend on your performance!"


    Richard didn''t have much cash on hand right now.


    Originally, he had ¡ê229 million, plus a ¡ê71 million loan from Barclays and Lloyds, bringing his total liquid capital to ¡ê300 million.


    Philip Harris from Lloyds had already informed him that the Grade I listed Midland Grand Hotel would be priced between ¡ê140 and ¡ê180 million¡ªthough that figure only accounted for the hotel itself, with additional costs still unclear. However, Richard had already planned that if he acquired the hotel, he would rename it the St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel London.


    Next on the list was the Exmouth Market Wilmington Square Garden apartments, consisting of three buildings in the west, east, and north. Each was priced at ¡ê20 million, totaling ¡ê60 million. This is the place where he planned to build a home for his family, as well as some swanky apartments. Time to play landlord.


    Finally, in Mayfair, Richard had two assets: the Britannia Inter-Continental London and unused land in Blackburne''s Mews.


    The Britannia Inter-Continental London had been involved in a scandal when a Russian agent was poisoned to death in the hotel bar. Richard planned to demolish the entire building and construct a new one, which would cost at least ¡ê100 million. He had already decided on a new name for the hotel: The Biltmore Mayfair.


    As for the unused land in Blackburne''s Mews, hmm, perhaps Maddox Capital''s new office would be the perfect addition here.


    "But for Mayfair, it can be postponed," Richard made a quick judgment. There was no need to rush.


    He had a clear reason for acquiring these expensive properties. He wanted to capitalize on the recession while the property market was at its lowest. Once the economy rebounded, he was confident their values would soar.


    ''Not to mention, George Soros is set to break the Bank of England this year¡ªI just don''t know exactly when.''


    When Soros breaks the Bank of England, the pound will automatically plummet. If the government doesn''t intervene, the UK could face an immediate financial crisis or even bankruptcy. In such a situation, the government will desperately need cash.


    And where will they get it? By selling off assets.


    This is why he is confident they will sell the Grade I listed Midland Grand Hotel. In fact, he firmly believes he can slash the price. However, this still won''t leave him with much cash in hand, so he needs to be careful.


    Other than property, his other top priority was the dot-com boom of the 1990s¡ªa period when tech companies skyrocketed in value, only for many to crash in the early 2000s.


    It was a goldmine, a time when countless companies rose to prominence overnight, only to collapse just as quickly. And he knew he could make a fortune from it.


    Back to the negotiation scene.


    Richard didn''t rush to make an offer. Instead, he started with a question. "I heard Umbro partnered with Eric''s Sports Shop this year?"


    John frowned but didn''t deny it¡ªafter all, it was public knowledge. To combat the recession, he had teamed up with Eric Alexander''s sports shop. "That''s right. Why do you ask?"


    Richard leaned in slightly. "You currently hold about 46 shares, worth roughly ¡ê180,000, correct?" He let the number hang in the air before continuing, "If you can convince Eric to sell his shares to me as well, I promise to offer you a price beyond your expectations. You know how much I made from the last World Cup, don''t you?"


    John Humphreys was immediately tempted. Umbro was in serious need of cash, and Richard''s words had struck the right chord.


    "Wait here. I''ll make a call," he said, standing up without hesitation and leaving Richard alone with his warm tea.


    Eric Alexander could be considered a legendary figure at Manchester City.


    In the year his father passed away and he became the club''s chairman, he thought managing the team would be an easy task¡ªafter all, he was a former football player himself. So, he spent his money buying a sports shop in Rusholme and an advertising firm in Manchester.


    Never did he think that the one to betray him wouldn''t be the club or football itself, but his beloved country. The recession, the struggling economy, and poor sales¡ªEric cursed the current government for it all.


    Eric, upon hearing Richard''s proposal, finally made an appearance. He hurriedly got out of bed and rushed straight to Cheadle, where Umbro''s headquarters were located.


    When Richard saw him, he was taken aback. The man looked rough¡ªhis hair was a mess, his shirt was half-tucked, and the dark circles under his eyes could rival the depths of the Mariana Trench.


    ''Why does everyone look like they''ve just survived a war? Just how bad is the situation to leave them like this?'' Richard wondered.


    Eric didn''t say a word. The moment he arrived, he immediately grabbed the warm tea in front of him and downed it like a man stranded in the desert who had just found an oasis.


    "Aaah," he sighed in relief, placing the cup back on the table. Then, finally, he turned to John Humphreys with an exasperated look.


    "John, seriously? You too? With something this big happening, how could you not notify me sooner? Look at how late you finally decided to tell me!"


    "Hmm," Richard fell into deep thought.


    The Eric Alexander standing before him... How to put it? He seemed... more mature?


    In the past, Eric had poured almost all his money into Manchester City without a second thought, as if the club were his lifeblood. But now? He no longer seemed like someone willing to throw everything into the club''s pot.


    Just the fact that he was willing to come here without properly dressing already showed that he was open to listening to any offer.


    Only after some small talk did Eric turn toward Richard. "So," he said, rubbing his face tiredly, "what''s this about?"

 Chapter 64 - 64: Ambassador and Era of Collaboration

    The discussion about the share purchase was long and intense.


    Eric Alexander held 238 shares (11.55%), valued at ¡ê924,500.


    John Humphreys held 46 shares (2.23%), valued at ¡ê178,400.


    Together, their shares amounted to a total of ¡ê1,102,900.


    "I will not accept anything below ¡ê1,500,000," Eric stated firmly.


    "¡ê300,000, or no deal," John added, making his own demand clear.


    In total, Richard would need ¡ê1,800,000 to secure their shares. He considered offering the full amount upfront but had a better proposal in mind.


    The history of football agency¡ªand sports agency in general¡ªis fascinating. It can be divided into three phases:


    The first phase, in the 1950s, saw players treated as commodities. Agents primarily worked on behalf of clubs, scouting players and mediating contracts and transfers. Football was still seen as more of a hobby, but the involvement of external third parties in player movements and loyalties was beginning to emerge.


    The second phase, in the 1960s, marked the true birth of football agency. The abolition of the maximum wage legislation in UK football, along with the FA adopting the same regulations as the Italian system, transformed the profession. As a result, playing football in the UK became more attractive, with average player salaries rising by 61%.


    Across the Atlantic, Mark McCormack was revolutionizing sports agency and talent representation, bringing the profession into the public eye. As his career developed, he diversified his client roster across multiple sports, particularly tennis, and even became the agent of Brazilian football legend Pel¨¦.


    The third phase, from 1970 to 1979, saw football undergo globalization. The sport became a regular feature on television, expanding its reach across the world. As football''s popularity soared, so did the fame of its players, presenting even greater opportunities for football agents. During this period, agents began bypassing traditional transfer channels within individual countries, forging new pathways between clubs across continents.


    After that, the era from the 1980s onward was simply a continuation. A couple of major figures emerged during this time. Dennis Roach became one of the most well-known agents, starting in 1973 with none other than Johan Cruyff as his first client. Later, Pini Zahavi, the future godfather of modern football agency. Jon Smith, another key figure, famously represented Diego Maradona.


    Now, the early 1990s¡ªor what people called the "Millennial Boom"¡ªwas the time for him to shape the future of football agency.


    As everyone knew, many players had suffered from inadequate salaries after naively appointing close family members as their representatives.


    Richard wanted to change that notion completely, aiming to professionalize the industry and ensure that only those truly qualified could represent footballers at the highest level.


    "¡ê1,800,000 is a lot," Richard finally said. "And while I could pay that outright, I believe I have an offer that benefits you both in the long run."


    John and Eric exchanged glances before turning their attention back to Richard.


    "You know, I''m known as an agent now. I have many players under me, and some of them are the hottest names in English football right now¡ªIan Wright, Alan Shearer, Teddy Sheringham, Matt Le Tissier, Tony Cascarino..." Richard listed, letting the names sink in. Then, with a confident smile, he added, "Big names, strong fan bases, and... a powerful commercial appeal."


    John and Eric remained silent, but their eyes showed interest.


    "Go on," Eric finally said.


    "So, here''s my proposal¡ªI''ll buy your shares at the normal price," Richard said, raising a hand to halt any objections before they could speak. "But to sweeten the deal, I''m offering something more. One of my players will represent your brand. That means prime exposure, increased sales, and an association with elite footballers that will elevate your brand''s reputation even further."


    John and Eric exchanged glances. The offer was intriguing, but they needed more clarity.


    "What kind of deals are we talking about?" Eric finally asked.


    Richard leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table as he studied Eric and John.


    "Think about it¡ªimagine Alan Shearer wearing your gear in an exclusive campaign, or Ian Wright featuring in a TV ad promoting your latest football boots. A single commercial with the right player can skyrocket brand recognition right?"


    "Oh, you mean endorsements?" Both of them immediately lost interest¡ªendorsement deals were nothing new to them.


    Richard instantly straightened up and said, "But we don''t have to stop at endorsements. Endorsements are just one piece of the puzzle."


    Richard continued, "I call it a football ambassador¡ªa long-term contract where one of my players becomes the face of your brand. Not just a one-off campaign, but a lasting partnership. They''d attend public events, sign autographs, be present at product launches¡ªmaking sure your brand is seen and talked about by the right audience."


    Both parties nodded, their interest growing. "And what else?"


    "The second is sponsorship collaborations," Richard went on. "For example, you could sign an exclusive jersey deal with one of my players¡ªlet''s say Shearer. Every goal, post-match interview, and magazine cover¡ªyour logo is right there. Later, you could use that exposure to launch your own signature product line with a Shearer theme. Then we can go further¡ªlike having Shearer make a special appearance at the product launch event, drawing in fans by the thousands."


    "You could even set up limited-edition gear with their names attached¡ªcollectibles, signed merchandise, anything that increases visibility and sales. We create demand, we create hype, and most importantly, we create profit. And all of that, just for giving me a fair deal on your shares."


    John rubbed his chin, considering the possibilities. "You''re saying our logo will appear in every goal celebration, interview, and magazine? Is that even realistic?"


    Richard smiled at this. "Footballers are walking billboards. Wearing Umbro''s jersey on the pitch already gives you massive exposure. So why stop there? Why not have them represent your other products¡ªshirts, running shoes, jackets? Fans watch them, admire them, and most importantly, they want to imitate them."


    "Plus, during interviews or media appearances, isn''t it easy to simply ask photographers to capture candid shots, ensuring your logo is right there in plain sight? Simple, effective, and it keeps your brand in the spotlight at all times. Of course, we need to finalize the deal first."


    The room fell into thoughtful silence. Richard could see the gears turning in their heads.


    "Can we choose the player we want?" Eric Alexander was the first to break the silence.


    Richard''s smile widened at the question. They were interested. They were listening.


    "Of course," he said smoothly. "Let''s discuss it."


    The final result of the day''s discussion.


    Richard Maddox 182 shares (8,77%) ¡ú 509 (24.71%)


    He spent about ¡ê1,291,700, paying the normal price for Eric Alexander''s and John Humphreys'' shares. As for Sidney Rose''s shares, Richard bought them for ¡ê200,000, up from the original price of ¡ê168,000 for 43 shares (2.09%).


    Updated Share Ownership & ValuationTop Shareholders:


    Peter Swales 619 shares (30.05%) ¡ú ¡ê2,404,000 (unchanged)


    Simon Cussons 566 shares (27.48%) ¡ú ¡ê2,198,400 (unchanged)


    Joe Smith 366 shares (17.77%) ¡ú ¡ê1,421,600 (unchanged)


    Richard Maddox 509 (24.71%) ¡ú ¡ê1,898,100 (increased)


    In exchange, Alan Shearer would represent Umbro, strengthening their brand presence. Meanwhile, for Eric''s sports shop, rising star Andy Cole would serve as its ambassador, perfectly fitting the shop''s image as he was poised for a breakout over the next three years.


    Everything was going according to Richard''s plan, and soon, Manchester City would be his.


    His next targets were Peter Swales, Simon Cussons, and Joe Smith. But first, he set his sights on Joe Smith, as he was the one most likely to need cash the most. However, before Richard could put his plan into motion¡ªsomething happened at Maine Road.


    There was nothing remarkable about City''s performance this season¡ªjust mediocre at best, or to put it bluntly, struggling.


    They were battling in the Premier League, already knocked out of the League Cup, and had no European competition to fall back on. Their only remaining hope was the FA Cup, and in this competition, it felt like the dam had finally burst.


    The FA Cup was City''s only hope of securing a trophy this season. They were set to face Tottenham Hotspur in the sixth round, and a victory would send them to the semi-finals for the first time in decades. But that dream was shattered¡ªSpurs defeated City 4-2, crushing their hopes of a long-awaited FA Cup breakthrough. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Around 200 City ''fans'' from the newly opened Platt Lane stand stormed the pitch in a chaotic invasion¡ªthe first of its kind since the Hillsborough disaster. The incident was broadcast nationwide, and not only that, it was shown live on BBC television as well as in France, Cyprus, South Africa, Thailand, and Hong Kong.


    TV reporters captured the shocking scenes live, and The Times reported: "The disturbance on Sunday, which led to 36 arrests inside the ground as mounted police and dog handlers controlled more than 200 City supporters, so upset Peter Reid, the City manager, that he briefly considered resigning. However, yesterday he confirmed he would stay. ''I shall fight these hooligans all the way,'' he said."


    Because of this incident, a former Manchester City favorite, who attempted to control the trouble at Maine Road, made an inquiry to chairman Peter Swales. However, Swales'' response only fueled the fans'' outrage.


    "¡ê15 million. I will stand down if Francis can offer me a total of fifteen million for my shares."


    Why not just buy half of AC Milan instead? Fifteen million? Are you crazy?


    The next match against Queens Park Rangers had the board fearing a large protest. In response, they held an emergency meeting to discuss the takeover speculation and issued a message to Lee, which could be interpreted as "put up or shut up."


    After the meeting, however, club president Joe Smith addressed the media, announcing his willingness to relinquish his 20-year reign in charge. He also confirmed that he was open to selling his shares.


    Speaking on BBC Radio Four, he stated, "I would sell my 366 shares, but only at the right price."


    Meanwhile, Simon Cussons was also approached by reporters. Though he didn''t give a direct answer, his response sparked speculation. "I would love to keep going, but I realize it''s probably time for someone else to step in," he said.


    What did he mean? Who was the someone else¡ªhim or Peter Swales? Or was there another figure waiting in the shadows?


    No one could say for certain, but speculation was already running wild.


    Francis Lee''s consortium made direct contact with Joe Smith, but no agreement was reached. While they were still in discussions, preparing for a second attempt, they were too late¡ªRichard had already arrived at Smith''s Oldham double glazing shop. However, the price the old man demanded made Richard hesitate for a moment.


    Francis Lee''s consortium was alarmed by the latest developments.


    "Mr. Lee, listen to me. I would never dare deceive you," his secretary said helplessly. "But Richard Maddox was simply willing to pay more. I had no choice¡ªhe matched the price you said was already too high, and I couldn''t justify bidding any further."


    This is about how Richard managed to secure Sydney Rose, John Humphreys, and Eric Alexander''s shares.


    Now, it was a do-or-die situation. Lee refused to give up on City. As a club legend, he believed he could take them to new heights. A legend as a player and a legend as an owner? What more could he ask for?


    Determined, he turned to his secretary. "Get me in touch with Chief Kelly."


    Graham Kelly¡ªChief Executive of FA.

 Chapter 65 - 65: Changing Hands

    Becoming an ambassador was a new experience for Andy Cole, but gaining exposure was good for his career. Over the phone, Richard explained the ins and outs of the role.


    "Just don''t be careless. You only need to focus on your career. Next week, we''ll go for the photoshoot, and that''s it. Until you become a real top player, don''t let anything else distract you. You hear me?"


    "Yes, I understand," Andy Cole replied over the phone, his voice filled with excitement.


    It seemed like his dream Porsche wasn''t far off now¡ªmaybe just one more year? He silently thanked Richard for paving the way.


    After Andy Cole came Alan Shearer.


    Since Umbro was a huge brand with a long history, they naturally made an offer too good to ignore.


    Moreover, knowing how Blackburn would flourish after signing him, Richard had already secured Alan Shearer with a performance-based clause¡ªspecifically one that stated, "If Blackburn Rovers win the Premier League."


    Who would have believed that a newly promoted Blackburn could actually challenge for the Premier League title? S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Back to football¡ªespecially Manchester City.


    After the infamous pitch invasion, Maine Road was left in a sombre state, and it was a very frustrating situation for Peter Reid.


    The limitations of his squad, the tense atmosphere, and recent events only made the situation worse. Adding to the turmoil, rumors swirled about Peter Swales refusing to approve medical treatment for players, further sinking morale to an all-time low.


    Desperate for a solution, Peter Reid looked to reinvest in new players during winter, hoping to strengthen the team. However, Chairman Peter Swales refused to provide the necessary funds, creating an obvious rift between the two.


    The growing tension between the manager and chairman threatened to push the club into deeper uncertainty.


    With the pressure on, Peter Swales he decided to appoint former journalist John Maddock as General Manager so that he could step away from the day to day involvement on the playing side, which he said "May have impaired progress", in front of the media.


    Maddock was a pioneer. He orchestrated the first shirt sponsorship deal in English football, partnering Liverpool FC with electronics firm Hitachi in 1978¡ªa move that would change the game. Swales believed in his ability to lead City while he waited for the situation to calm down.


    Things didn''t get any better and chants of "Swales Out!" were heard as City lost 1-0 at Tottenham and then 2-0 at home to Blackburn where there was a demonstration against the board outside the ground.


    Since Swales had already stepped down, it was now Maddock''s turn to face the City faithful. Standing before the fans and media, he made his first appearance as Manchester City''s General Manager.


    His expression was serious as he spoke ominously: "What happened tonight is not good enough. I''m talking about the performance and the lack of spirit."


    Those comments and Maddock''s public appearance confirmed one thing about City¡ªPeter Swales'' reign was beginning to crumble. This served as an invitation for Francis Lee to step up his interest in the club, but he was in no hurry just yet.


    The fans didn''t get their way, and while they were still in the midst of their intense demonstrations for the club, under Swales'' support, Maddock sacked Peter Reid and Sam Ellis two days later.


    Everyone, apart from ''Team Swales,'' could see that Reid had been hard done by.


    The next day just hours before the home game against Coventry, Brian Horton was appointed City''s new manager and saw City draw 1-1.


    The game was followed by a protest involving around 1,000 City fans asking for Swales to step down and backing former player, and now successful businessman, Francis Lee, who had said in the press he would be prepared to put substantial funds into the club in return for a seat on the board.


    In front of the media, Francis Lee stepped forward and made a series of extravagant claims about his plans for the club. "This will be the happiest club in the land. The players will be the best paid, and we''ll drink plenty of champagne, celebrate, and sing until we''re hoarse," he said.


    There seemed little likelihood that he could work with Swales, but he insisted, "This is not a takeover bid or a hostile intervention."


    He was aware of the covenant rules among board members.


    Brian Horton''s first challenge was an away game at Swindon, where City secured their first win of the season with a 3-1 victory.


    After the match, Peter Swales issued a statement saying that neither he, fellow shareholder Simon Cussons, nor Joe Smith would be selling any of their shares, which made up nearly 80% of the club''s holdings.


    Away from the politics, Brian Horton made his first signing, spending ¡ê1.5M to bring Irish international Alan Kernaghan from Middlesbrough. He made his debut against Wimbledon, but City still fell to a 1-0 defeat.


    However, there was one big question¡ªwhere did Brian Horton''s ¡ê1.5M transfer funds come from?


    And if Richard found out, he''d probably pass out.


    To raise the money, 20-year-old Steve McManaman and 21-year-old Rob Jones were sold to Liverpool for a combined ¡ê1M.


    22-year-old Chris Armstrong was sold to Crystal Palace for ¡ê1M, and 24-year-old Graeme Le Saux moved to Blackburn for ¡ê700,000.


    All of this was done while Richard was kept in the dark... or perhaps it was facilitated by the FA behind Francis Lee. It happened so quickly that Richard didn''t know anything about it.


    Away from the League, The Blues drew 1-1 at home to Reading in the 1st leg of their League Cup 2nd round tie.


    The familiar chants of "Swales out!" returned to Maine Road. However, this time, they were louder and more intense because three of the best players were sold to buy unproven players. This decision led to Horton falling out with the City fans.


    The major worry for City right now is the risk of the protests escalating into a second serious incident, with fans invading the pitch once again. The club is under threat of a ground closure due to crowd disturbances. Any further transgression could result in City''s suspended sentence being enforced¡ªor, worse, revoked.


    To calm the FA and the fans, the defiant Swales made a statement: "The only thing that will delay some kind of regime change is people causing disturbances and rioting, because that won''t help the club. It won''t help City, and it also won''t help people make a proper decision."


    The current manager, Brian Horton, became an unfortunate pawn in the takeover war. He urged City fans to back the team, saying, "It would be better if they called off their demonstration because that does not help anybody," only to enrage them further.


    Because of this, just days later, Joe Smith stated that he would consider selling his shares to Lee¡ªprovided he had Swales'' agreement. He planned to meet with Lee to discuss the matter after the next game, which ended in a convincing 3-0 win against QPR at Maine Road.


    The City fans made their stance clear, voicing full support for the Forward With Franny campaign.


    It seemed that Swales was realising that the club he had presided over for years, would now end up in new hands, however he seemed determined that it would not be those of Francis Lee as he announced he was in advanced negotiations with another buyer.


    Richard Maddox


    But unexpectedly, Richard himself did not respond¡ªor perhaps he couldn''t.


    Where had Richard been all this time? After all the chaos, why hadn''t he appeared? Where was he?


    No one could contact him.


    Well, it wasn''t that he didn''t want to¡ªbut he had unexpectedly run into some trouble.


    He didn''t even have time to meet with his agent because his career was at risk!


    Back to Manchester City''s situation¡ªthe tension was about to explode. After the match, Swales gave an interview:


    "I know there''s a time for everybody to step down, and that time will come for me. But I''m not sure it has come just yet. The whole thing has blown up in the last two weeks, and you can''t suddenly change your entire thinking in that time. I won''t be hustled into anything."


    This statement only fueled City fans¡ªespecially the hardcore supporters like the Rev Jim Burns, the St. Paul Vicar from Chorley, and the City Action Group, who were pro-Lee and anti-Swales.


    They insisted on holding a peaceful demonstration despite the chairman''s conciliatory comments.


    The boardroom turmoil seemed to be affecting the players, as The Blues suffered back-to-back defeats¡ª3-1 at West Ham and 3-2 against Manchester United at Maine Road.


    With all parties raising the red card against Swales'' management, Francis Lee''s consortium finally decided to make a second formal bid to the City board.


    In the first bid, Francis Lee''s consortium had made an official offer to take over the club by proposing to buy a 29.9% share. However, the board stood by Peter Swales and rejected the bid outright.


    Unexpectedly, the next day, after a lengthy discussion, the two men¡ªFrancis Lee and Joe Smith, now the former City president¡ªshook hands on a deal. Lee successfully acquired Smith''s shares for a whopping ¡ê1,500,000, an increase from the initial valuation of ¡ê1,421,600.


    When City Magazine interviewed the Oldham-based double glazing tycoon, he simply stated, "When the right bid is made, it should be treated on its merits, or prolonged rumors and speculation could end up damaging all parties involved."


    Updated Share Ownership & Valuation:


    Peter Swales 619 shares (30.05%) ¡ú ¡ê2,404,000


    Simon Cussons 566 shares (27.48%) ¡ú ¡ê2,198,400


    Francis Lee''s consortium 366 shares (17.77%) ¡ú ¡ê1,421,600


    Richard Maddox 509 (24.71%) ¡ú ¡ê1,898,100


    Not long after, the FA made an announcement stating, "Should Swales step down as chairman, his position as head of the influential Football Association International Committee and Northern Premier League head would remain unaffected."


    Following that, Lee also stated that if Peter Swales or Simon Cussons chose to step down and sell their shares, they would both be offered the title of Life President at the club upon their departure.


    City''s run was halted with a 1-1 draw at Norwich and a 0-0 draw at Chelsea. However, a 3-1 defeat at home to Sheffield Wednesday was followed a few days later by the resignation of Chairman Peter Swales.


    When Swales gave his last speech as City chairman, everyone was shocked by a revelation¡ªhe never wanted to sell his shares, but he knew he had no choice.


    "But when the supporters sink to the depths of involving an 87-year-old woman, I think the time has come for me to take action. My family has been living in constant fear, and their safety was a prime consideration in my decision to resign as chairman," Swales said.


    People were taken aback, but when investigations began, everything erupted into an uproar. Reports surfaced that certain City fans had attempted to enter his elderly mother''s nursing home.


    The League Cup was gone, the solace of the FA Cup was only a dream, and as for the Premier League?


    City was on the brink of relegation.


    The final match of the Premier League confirmed that Francis Lee''s consortium''s bid had finally been accepted by the board, replacing Peter Swales as the chairman.


    Simon Cussons, on the other hand, did not want to sell his shares but was pressured by the fans¡ªespecially the pro-Lee supporters and the consortium.


    His company, Cussons, was still in a strong phase of expansion, but the economic climate, coupled with aggressive growth strategies, was beginning to put pressure on all fronts.


    Just as he was on the verge of surrendering to Francis Lee''s consortium, Richard made a decisive move that caught the euphoric Francis Lee consortium off guard.


    "¡ê2,500,000! Sell it to me!" Richard declared firmly.


    What else could he say?


    Lee''s consortium wanted to buy his share for ¡ê2,000,000, while Richard offered ¡ê2,500,000.


    Even a moron would know which to choose.


    Updated Share Ownership & Valuation:


    Francis Lee''s consortium ¡ú 985 shares (47.82%) ¡ú ¡ê3,830,280


    Richard Maddox ¡ú 1,075 shares (52.18%) ¡ú ¡ê4,179,600

 Chapter 66 - 66: Black Wednesday

    Becoming the largest shareholder filled Richard with joy.


    It meant he was now the majority holder, giving him control over City''s operations and decisions. Having spent years at the club, he understood the inner workings of the board better than anyone.


    With this newfound power, Richard moved quickly to activate the City Covenant, aiming to pressure Francis Lee''s consortium or at least reduce their stake so he could acquire more shares and strengthen his influence.


    To navigate this, he enlisted the help of City''s barrister, Gordon Barry, and solicitor, Frank Shepherd, ensuring he had the legal backing to push forward.


    With City affairs settled for now, Richard, in high spirits, turned his attention to his investment company, eager to dive into his next venture.


    Maddox Capital didn''t have an office¡ªat least, not yet. For now, Richard managed his daily tasks entirely through his trusty phone, coordinating with Philip Harris from Lloyds and Taylor Smith from Barclays.


    At this time, setting up a venture capital firm in the UK didn''t legally require an office or employees. However, a registered business address was necessary for company registration.


    For privacy reasons, Richard decided to use Britannia Inter-Continental London as Maddox Capital''s official address.


    Richard also made a new transition with their help¡ªfrom Maddox Capital as a sole trader to a Private Limited Company (Ltd) with himself as the sole director. This structure ensured Maddox Capital was a separate legal entity, protecting his personal assets.


    With support from Barclays and Lloyds, he smoothly registered the company with Companies House, set up annual accounting, and prepared for corporation tax filings. Since he wasn''t managing external funds, he likely didn''t need Financial Services Authority (FSA) approval to operate.


    Mayfair, London, United Kingdom


    Britannia Inter-Continental London


    Richard moved his family here¡ªnot to the hotel, but to a nearby building, as he had already bought the entire block. He thought that with the area of Grosvenor Square Garden just in front of them, his father and mother wouldn''t get bored here.


    As for himself, he stayed in the hotel, working.


    Richard leaned back in his chair at the Britannia Inter-Continental, staring at his Compaq LTE Elite, known as one of the first "true" business laptops with a high-resolution grayscale screen and a powerful Intel 386/486 processor.


    The moment he hit connect, the modem speaker crackled.


    Brrrrrrr-ding-ding-ding... shhhhhh-kkkkkkkrrrrr... beep-beep-beep...


    A sequence of high-pitched tones filled the room, followed by the telltale static screech of data transmission. It was always an anxious wait¡ªwould it connect on the first try, or would he have to redial?


    Finally, the noise settled into a steady hum. Connected.


    Richard exhaled in relief. He was now online¡ªslow, clunky, but functional.


    "Shit internet," he muttered before pulling up his email client and beginning to type.


    At a different location¡ª54 Lombard Street, London, EC3P 3AH¡ªBarclays Headquarters.


    Taylor Smith, Richard''s personal relationship manager at Barclays, sat amidst the chaos, surrounded by traders as the pound''s exchange rate swung wildly. The trading floor was a battlefield¡ªscreens flashing red, phones ringing non-stop, and voices raised in urgent shouts.


    "It''s dropping now!" someone yelled.


    "Hey, it''s Goldman! They''re dumping pounds!" another trader called out.


    "Don''t worry, the pound won''t collapse. It''s still Britain, after all."


    The room buzzed with frantic discussions, arguments, and speculation. Some were convinced the Bank of England would hold the line, while others saw disaster on the horizon.


    Smith, however, remained silent, his eyes fixed on the monitor as sell orders continued flooding in. The pound was being offloaded at an unprecedented rate. Suddenly, his phone rang. He picked it up without taking his eyes off the screen.


    "Hello, Taylor speaking."


    "Taylor, it''s me¡ªRichard."


    Smith immediately recognized the voice. "Richard, how are you today?"


    "I''m fine," Richard replied. "By the way, how much are my Cisco shares worth today?"


    It had been two years since Richard first bought into Cisco when the company went public. He had purchased 10 million'' worth of shares at $22.32 per share, securing a 3.61% stake in the company.


    In those two years, Cisco had rapidly expanded, becoming one of the first to sell commercially successful routers supporting multiple network protocols, pushing its stock price higher. As a result, they had no choice but to implement multiple stock splits.


    "Hold on a minute," Smith said, calculating the latest valuation. After a brief pause, he spoke again. "Right now, Cisco''s stock is at $0.73 per share. If you calculate it based on pre-split values, it''s trading around $50 per share. Also, Cisco is in the middle of acquiring several companies, which is driving their stock up further for now."


    Richard rubbed his chin, considering the numbers. "So, how much is my total holding worth now?"


    Smith checked his figures. "As of today, your stake is worth $22,445,000."


    "How much further can the stock go?"


    "I think it''s possible to reach $60."


    There was a brief silence before Richard made his decision. "Then sell it when the price reaches $60."


    ''Oh, nice,'' Smith thought, grinning. More transactions meant more commissions¡ªbut he was also curious. "Why? Cisco is growing aggressively. Their expansion strategy is working."


    "I don''t like their aggressive expansion," Richard said simply.


    Smith didn''t push further. He understood. Some investors didn''t just look at growth¡ªthey cared about sustainability, risk, and long-term stability.


    "Alright," Smith said. "I''ll process it."


    "Thank you," Richard replied.


    With that, the order was set in motion.


    Changing the scene to the Bank of England Headquarters ¨C Threadneedle Street, London.


    Phones rang endlessly. Desperate voices shouted across the room. Chaos.


    RING! RING!


    "360! Twelve million pounds!"


    "Done!" sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "350! Shit, eight million pounds!"


    Barely a second after purchasing twelve million pounds, another wave of sell orders flooded the system.


    A trader, who had been staring intently at his terminal, turned to the chief dealer with a grim expression.


    "The sell orders aren''t slowing down¡­ they''re still rising!"


    "Ugh¡ªdammit!"


    The Bank of England was drowning. They were buying up pounds in a desperate attempt to stabilize the currency, but the market was relentless. Hedge funds, investment banks, speculators¡ªeveryone was selling.


    With no other choice, the chief dealer picked up the phone and made the call.


    "Governor, it''s me."


    A weary voice responded from the other end. "Oh¡­ how is it?"


    The man gripping the phone, his knuckles white, took a deep breath before continuing. "I''m sorry¡­ I think we can''t hold on much longer."


    There was silence. A silence that stretched just long enough to make it clear¡ªeveryone knew what was coming.


    The Governor''s voice, tight and controlled, finally broke through. "What''s the latest figure?"


    "We''ve already burned through more than ¡ê1 billion in reserves trying to prop up the pound. It''s still falling. Every time we buy, another wave of selling crushes us. It''s not stopping, sir."


    The Governor cursed under his breath. "How bad is the spread?"


    "We''re at 2.778. The pressure is relentless. If we don''t act now, it''ll go into freefall."


    "Are you certain?"


    The chief dealer hesitated for a moment, then spoke with conviction.


    "Sir, this is the foundation of the economy. If we hold the fort, we''ll have to face the full brunt of the crisis."


    The Governor exhaled sharply. "Understood. I''ll call the Prime Minister and the Chancellor to assess the situation."


    "Yes, sir. Please do your best."


    It was an unusual exchange¡ªan order from a subordinate to his superior¡ªbut the Governor didn''t care. Not now. Not when the entire financial system was on the brink.


    Back at the Britannia Inter-Continental London, Richard was napping when a news report broke.


    "The Bank of England just raised interest rates by 3%..."


    "Wow," Richard instantly straightened up.


    Yesterday, it was 10%, then 2% this morning, and now another 3%¡ªa total of a 15% increase in interest rates. That meant only one thing¡ªthe Bank of England was being forced to surrender.


    SLAP!


    Richard slapped his thigh in excitement before grabbing his phone and dialing Philip Harris from Lloyds.


    "Hello, Mr. Harris?"


    "Yes, Richard. What can I do for you?"


    "Can you help me get in touch with whoever is in charge of the Midland Grand Hotel? I''m willing to offer them ¡ê150 million cash if they''re selling it now."


    "What are you talking about? That building¡ªwait a minute. You¡ª"


    Harris, being a banker, was well aware of the country''s situation. His mind raced, quickly piecing things together.


    ''You want to take advantage of the crisis, don''t you?'' he thought to himself


    The UK was in turmoil. The pound was collapsing, and despite using interest rate hikes as a last resort, the decline showed no signs of stopping. However, the question remained¡ªdid they even have the cash?


    It was clear that the country''s economy was struggling under the weight of an overvalued pound, high interest rates, and rising unemployment. In a way, he was actually helping his country combat the crisis!


    Indeed, the government still had a little confidence in combating the speculators betting against the pound. They were holding onto a sliver of hope¡ªas long as they could find a way to escape this major embarrassment, everything could still be negotiated.


    Richard was right. The government, through British Rail, could indeed sell the hotel, but they demanded a whopping ¡ê200 million.


    He almost felt thankful that he had applied for a loan from Barclays and Lloyds beforehand.


    Richard injected a total of ¡ê179 million in cash, combined with a ¡ê71 million loan from Barclays and Lloyds, bringing Maddox Capital''s total funds to ¡ê250 million.


    Adding the remaining ¡ê30 million after investments in WWF and Premier League sponsorships, Maddox Capital''s cash reserves now totaled ¡ê280 million.


    After extensive discussions, a deal was finally reached at ¡ê150 million for the Midland Grand Hotel, instantly reducing Richard''s cash holdings to ¡ê130 million.


    Thankfully, a week later, the Cisco stocks were also sold, adding ¡ê15,350,000, bringing his total cash reserves to ¡ê145,350,000.


    With additional cash in hand, the Bank of England intervened by buying pounds, still holding onto hope that they could save the currency. However, these efforts were in vain.


    The selling pressure was too intense, and by the end of the day, the UK government conceded defeat. The Bank of England''s reserves of nearly $40 billion were all but exhausted. The pound was forced out of the European Exchange Rate Mechanism (ERM) and allowed to float freely on the currency markets, immediately experiencing a significant devaluation.


    "Ah, I want to buy British stocks," Richard suddenly mumbled.


    Due to the sudden recession, stock prices of companies listed on the London Stock Exchange had plummeted to rock bottom.


    ''But that won''t be an issue later, though,'' Richard thought as he began making calculations.


    The collapse of the pound was a major embarrassment and was seen as a devastating blow to the UK''s economic credibility. Yet, in a twist of fate, the devaluation of the pound and the subsequent lowering of interest rates helped stimulate the economy. The country''s competitive position improved, exports became cheaper, and economic recovery followed.


    However, before he could do that, the fax machine suddenly began whirring to life. Richard glanced up, momentarily distracted.


    He didn''t think much of it at first. He pulled the freshly printed document from the tray and scanned it, and when he saw who sent it, he was taken aback¡ªit was from Manchester City, or to be exact, the fax itself that made him pause.


    Simply put, the FA faxed Manchester City, and now Manchester City was faxing him.


    "They want me to attend a hearing? What the heck is this about?" Richard was confused after reading it all.


    Not long after, Richard''s phone rang.


    RING!


    He picked up instantly. "Hello?"


    A familiar voice came through. "Mr. Richard, it''s me¡ªGordon."


    Richard immediately sensed the urgency in his tone. "Yeah, I hear you. What''s going on?"


    Gordon took a deep breath. "The FA has stepped in regarding the covenant."


    Richard''s grip on the phone tightened. "What? What do you mean?"


    "I sent you a fax¡ªhave you seen it yet? Please check."


    Richard''s gaze snapped toward the fax machine. After a moment, he could only mutter. "Thank you for informing me, Gordon."


    "No problem. But please notify us within three days so we can proceed accordingly."


    "Understood," Richard said before taking a moment to think.


    Then, he dialed Adam Lewis, knowing he was still knee-deep in the Bosman case. He didn''t launch straight into his own problems¡ªfirst, he asked for an update.


    "FIFPRO is backing Bosman''s legal fight against UEFA and the Belgian FA. His lawyer, Dupont, managed to get the French and Dutch player unions involved voluntarily. They''re pushing to take the case to the European Court of Justice¡ªprobably later this year."


    Richard leaned back, rubbing his temple. "Do you think they''ll win?"


    "I''d bet on it."


    "That''s good." He paused briefly, then added, "Listen, I need a favor."


    "What happened?"


    Richard exhaled sharply, then got straight to the point. "The FA¡­ they''ve frozen my assets in the club."


    "What the hell? Why?"


    Richard explained how the FA was using his dual role¡ªboth as an agent and the club''s largest shareholder¡ªagainst him, arguing it was a conflict of interest. If he didn''t comply, they threatened to suspend his rights as a shareholder until he was forced to sell.


    "And if you refuse?" Lewis asked, his tone serious.


    "They''re trying to squeeze me out." Richard let out a bitter laugh. "Make it impossible to stay until I have no choice but to sell."


    A brief silence followed. Then Lewis asked, "Do you want to sell?"


    Richard didn''t answer right away. Instead, the question lingered in his mind. ''Do I want to sell?''


    Richard smiled wryly. "I think right now, there isn''t any club available for sale, right?"


    Buying a Premier League club wasn''t as straightforward as simply placing a bid, especially with the Premier League framework already in place.


    Most deals happened privately due to the lack of public listings, meaning a potential buyer had to identify a club whose owners were willing to sell or one facing financial struggles. Negotiations had to be conducted directly with majority shareholders, followed by securing approval from the Premier League and the FA to finalize the acquisition.


    Financial due diligence was also critical¡ªassessing debts, revenue streams, stadium ownership, and player contracts, especially with the introduction of new all-seater stadium regulations.


    On top of that, location was another key consideration¡ªwhether the club was based in a major city with strong commercial potential or in a smaller town with a more limited market. This became even more important with the growing influence of broadcasting rights, matchday revenue, commercial deals, and sponsorships.


    If he gave up his shares in the club, it would mean starting from zero again, losing the familiarity and deep understanding he currently had.


    Richard sighed. "I''ve already sunk too deep into Manchester City."


    He then heard Lewis also sigh on the other end. "Look, I can''t come over right now¡ªBosman''s case is at a critical stage. But I can put you in touch with someone."


    Richard sat up. "Who?"


    "Nick De Marco. Head to Blackstone Chambers tomorrow. I''ll make sure they''re expecting you."


    Richard didn''t hesitate. "Alright. Thanks, Adam."


    "Don''t mention it."


    After hanging up, Richard sat there for a moment, staring at his phone. Then, with a deep breath, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

 Chapter 67 - 67: The Hearing

    The 1992/1993 season is over.


    Manchester United have been confirmed as the league champions of England for the first time in 26 years.


    The brilliant young winger Ryan Giggs was named PFA Young Player of the Year for the second year in a row, while Alex Ferguson received the Manager of the Year award.


    Teddy Sheringham finished as the league''s top scorer with 22 goals for Tottenham Hotspur, followed closely by Les Ferdinand of Queens Park Rangers, who scored 20 goals.


    Arsenal became the first team to win both the FA Cup and the League Cup in the same season, defeating Sheffield Wednesday 2¨C1 in both finals. Ian Wright was the key player in Arsenal''s triumph, proving his status as one of the most fearsome strikers in English football.


    In European competitions, Marseille claimed their first European Cup title with a 1-0 victory over AC Milan in the final, held at the Olympiastadion in Munich.


    Parma secured their first European trophy, defeating Royal Antwerp 3-1 in the Cup Winners'' Cup final at Wembley Stadium in London.


    Juventus triumphed in the UEFA Cup, dominating Borussia Dortmund with a 6-1 aggregate victory in the two-legged final.


    Beyond the club competitions, UEFA officially awarded England the hosting rights for the 1996 European Football Championship, marking the nation''s first major tournament since the 1966 World Cup.


    Meanwhile, Richard was noticeably absent for the first time from his usual roller-coaster ride of high-stakes football betting. Unlike previous tournaments, where he was always a visible presence, he was nowhere to be seen during UEFA Euro 1992.


    Well, of course, after receiving the "warm" invitation from the FA, he didn''t even bother to handle City''s affairs.


    He only conducted a brief investigation into the club''s latest developments, discovering that Swales had sold his shares, City had been relegated this season, and, more importantly... the FA had approved the transfer of three of his players while completely bypassing his role as an agent.


    It was already nine o''clock in the morning, yet outside the car window, the world remained dark as if it were still night. The glare of oncoming headlights cut through the gloom, sharp and dazzling.


    Rain hammered against the car windows in a steady rhythm, the pitter-patter blending with the hum of the engine.


    The windshield wipers hesitated for a moment before sweeping across the glass again, fighting a losing battle against the relentless downpour that blurred Richard''s view of the road.


    "Rain again," Richard muttered, glancing outside as he gripped the wheel of his Porsche.


    He missed Cannes'' palm trees, bikinis, golden sunshine, and white sandy beaches¡ªthings he would never find in England.


    What did England''s beaches have to offer? Muddy shores, biting winds, towering waves, strange rock formations, and unlicensed shellfish pickers. Not exactly paradise.


    The midnight blue Porsche sliced through the wet motorway, leaving behind the rolling hills and countryside. Four hours after setting off from Manchester, Richard finally arrived in London¡ªone of the world''s greatest cities.


    Why Manchester and not London?


    Because before the hearing even began, Lee Sharpe had already reached out, inquiring about a contract extension with Manchester United. This would be Richard''s first time meeting the legendary Alex Ferguson¡ªbefore he earned the title of "Sir."


    Instead of heading straight to 25 Soho Square, where the Football Association''s offices were located, Richard made a detour. First, he needed coffee. Also, the barrister was already waiting for him at the same caf¨¦.


    Nick De Marco, 25 years old, was still an anonymous barrister at Blackstone Chambers. He wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses, had neatly combed hair, and was dressed in a beige coat. Sitting upright in the caf¨¦, his black briefcase rested neatly at his side.


    When his client approached, he stood up and greeted him with the refined manners of a gentleman.


    "Good morning, sir."


    Though he was just a small-time barrister at the moment, he carried himself with a quiet dignity. Even the simple act of extending his hand exuded confidence. In many countries, lawyers were regarded as part of the upper echelons of society, but this was especially true in Britain¡ªa nation deeply rooted in tradition and formality.


    "Good morning to you as well. Adam said you''re only here to collect information, not to represent me? So I''m alone now?"


    "Haha, you jest, sir. I have not yet been called to the Bar¡ªI''m still learning. But don''t worry, I can assist and support you from behind the scenes. I''ve already read through the case files. Please go through these before the hearing."


    He handed several documents to Richard before beginning his introductory case. "Mr. Richard¡ª"


    "Richard is fine. Can I call you Nick as well?" Richard cut in, asking first.


    "Uh, then I guess that''s fine," Nick coughed before continuing. "So, as you know from the fax you sent us, this is about your role as an agent, but also as one of the largest shareholders at Manchester City."


    He paused briefly, adjusting his glasses before scanning the documents in front of him. "The situation is quite complex because it involves both regulatory conflicts and potential conflicts of interest under FA regulations and the new Premier League framework. Your dual role raises concerns¡ªespecially with Manchester City also in the picture."


    Nick looked up at Richard. "Before we proceed, I need to clarify¡ªhow exactly do you intend to position yourself in this hearing?"


    Richard tapped the table, thinking for a moment before voicing his thoughts. "Is there a possibility that I''ll have to give up either one¡ªor even both?"


    Nick exhaled, choosing his words carefully. "That depends on your stance. From what I see, it''s controversial, but not necessarily illegal under the current rules. However, we need to be strategic in how we approach this."


    He leaned forward slightly. "Here''s what you should and shouldn''t say in the hearing."


    What to Emphasize:


    No Clear Ban ¨C As of now, the FA and Premier League do not explicitly prohibit a club shareholder from also being a licensed agent.


    Separation of Roles ¨C You should highlight that your role as an agent is independent and does not interfere with Manchester City''s operations. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Precedents & Industry Norms ¨C Other club officials have engaged in negotiations and player dealings before. If we show that your situation is not unprecedented, it weakens their case against you.


    What to Avoid:


    Directly Acknowledging a Conflict of Interest ¨C If they argue that your position at City gives you an unfair advantage in transfer dealings, avoid agreeing outright.


    Mentioning Influence Over Transfers ¨C If they ask whether you used your position to sway player movements in City''s favor, keep your response neutral. Say you always operate within the rules and act in the best interests of your clients.


    Future Plans ¨C Do not make any commitments about stepping down or changing your role unless absolutely necessary. We keep our options open.


    Richard nodded in understanding. "So this is about gauging how aggressively the FA and Premier League want to pursue this matter?"


    Nick nodded. "We need to understand their true intentions. If they see you as a threat, they might push for stronger action. But if there''s an agenda behind it..." He trailed off for a moment before adding, "At the very least, we''ll have some room to maneuver."


    By the time Nick had finished explaining, Richard already knew what he had to do.


    "I know what I''m going to do," he said, finishing his coffee in one gulp as if it were water. Then, without hesitation, he stood up and walked out, with Nick De Marco following closely behind.


    The two men left the caf¨¦. It was already noon. They were now driving to the headquarters of the Football Association in Soho Square.


    Richard had never been to the English Football Association before, so when he stepped out of his car, he looked around curiously.


    A small plot of land was lined with London plane trees. Unlike the modern Wembley-based offices, the Soho Square location was relatively modest for an organization overseeing English football.


    The building was almost identical to many in Islington that he had sold before¡ªa traditional Georgian-style office. It was not a grand or imposing structure but rather a low-rise brick building, typical of central London''s historical business districts.


    "It was always in the center of London," Richard thought, "on the north bank of the River Thames and just south of Oxford Street, a famous shopping destination."


    "The English Football Association," Nick began, then turned to Richard. "Is this your first time here?"


    Richard nodded, prompting Nick to continue his introduction with a professional air.


    "The FA is the governing body of English football. It was founded in 1863 when eleven clubs met on Fleet Street to establish a unified set of rules. As the oldest football association in history, it predates both UEFA and FIFA and has overseen the game''s evolution for over a century."


    Richard smirked. "And yet, all I can smell is something rotten."


    Nick glanced at him, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Great minds think alike."


    The three men had just set foot in the Football Association headquarters when a professionally dressed woman approached them. She saw them enter and asked, "Mr. Maddox?"


    Richard stepped forward. "I am Richard."


    "We have been expecting you. How do you do?" The woman smiled and extended her hand. "Please follow me."


    Richard followed her to the hearing room. He had never imagined what an English Football Association hearing would be like or whether it would resemble the courtrooms he had seen on television. But when the woman opened the door for him, he realized it was simply a slightly larger meeting room.


    "Please enter, Mr. Maddox."


    The man who rose to greet him looked vaguely familiar.


    It was Graham Kelly, the Chief Executive of the English Football Association.


    The problem was...


    "Mr. Maddox, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lennart Johansson, from UEFA''s Legal & Disciplinary Committee."


    Richard frowned, and so did Nick.


    After everyone was seated and the formalities were exchanged, the hearing began.


    FA Chief Graham Kelly cleared his throat. "Mr. Maddox, thank you for appearing before us today. As you are aware, concerns have been raised regarding your dual role as both the owner of Manchester City and a registered football agent."


    Richard nodded slightly. "I understand, sir. I''m here to clarify any misunderstandings."


    From that moment, the atmosphere grew more formal.


    "Mr. Johansson, please." Kelly gestured, making Richard frown even more.


    Lennart Johansson from UEFA''s Legal & Disciplinary Committee leaned forward. "The issue at hand is a conflict of interest. You represent players as an agent while simultaneously running a club that competes at the highest level. This raises questions of fairness, influence, and transparency."


    Richard leaned forward as well. "With all due respect, I''ve operated within the regulations of the time. My priority has always been the integrity of the sport. I ensure that any negotiations I handle are conducted fairly and with full disclosure."


    Kelly wasn''t convinced. "But how can we be certain? A club owner with access to insider knowledge of contracts and player values could manipulate transfers in ways that undermine fair competition."


    Richard kept his voice steady. "Sir, I have never used my position to gain an unfair advantage. I am fully aware of my responsibilities, which is why I have never operated under an agency entity¡ªI handle all negotiations personally. The deals I facilitate benefit the players, the clubs, and the sport as a whole. There is no connection between my personal dealings and Manchester City regarding my clients."


    Kelly narrowed his eyes. "And yet, reports suggest otherwise. We have documents showing that you facilitated player transfers where both the buying and selling parties had dealings with you. That suggests a clear conflict."


    As he finished speaking, Kelly made a motion toward the woman who had escorted Richard earlier. She walked over and handed Richard a stack of documents.


    The moment Richard glanced at them, he took a deep breath.


    They contained detailed contracts regarding Chris Armstrong, Rob Jones, and Graeme Le Saux.


    A flicker of irritation crossed Richard''s face. Everything became instantly clear to him. He glanced at the copied contracts¡ªif they were here, it meant that someone inside Manchester City had allowed the FA to investigate¡­ or worse, they were the ones who had actually instigated it.


    Richard exhaled. "I assure you, every transaction has adhered to the sport''s ethical standards. If UEFA believes changes are necessary, I am open to discussions about adjustments. However, at no point have I breached the spirit of the game."


    Kelly and Johansson smirked at Richard''s response, exchanging a glance that dripped with condescension.


    Johansson rose from his seat. "Mr. Maddox, it must be nice to decide for yourself what does and doesn''t breach football''s integrity."


    Kelly shook his head. "Players moving between clubs, deals negotiated behind closed doors¡ªwithout the oversight of the very regulations designed to ensure fairness." He tapped his fingers on the table before continuing. "Mr. Maddox, given your breach of integrity rules, we have no choice but to freeze your shares and suspend your status as an agent until further notice."


    The verdict was given.


    After leaving the FA building, Richard didn''t head straight home, nor did he say much, which made Nick anxious.


    He parked his car by the banks of the Thames and stood at the railing. He exhaled slowly, staring at the dark waters. The city lights shimmered in the reflection, but his mind was elsewhere.


    "Nick, what''s the probability of us winning if we fight in UK court?"


    Nick thought for a moment before answering honestly. "The FA operates under the Royal Charter, giving it significant autonomy over football governance in England. UK courts tend to defer to sports governing bodies unless there''s clear evidence of illegality or procedural unfairness. Even if we argue that they bypassed your rights as a shareholder and an agent, they''ll claim they acted within their regulatory powers."


    The answer wasn''t encouraging. The FA and UEFA had effectively cut him out of the business. If he fought them in UK courts, the case would likely get bogged down in procedural delays, and even if he won, the FA could appeal internally.


    "What if I take this to the European Court of Justice? How much is the probability of winning?"


    "Like what Bosman did?"


    Richard only nodded.


    Nick was taken aback at first, but after thinking for a moment, he began to see the feasibility. Suddenly, his eyes widened as he turned toward Richard.


    "So you deliberately didn''t bring up the fact that they bypassed your agent constitution? So that you can sue them directly at the ECJ, isn''t it? You planned this from the beginning!"


    Richard smiled but did not answer, letting Nick do the calculations.


    "We can argue that UEFA and the FA are violating EU competition law. Article 101 prohibits agreements that distort competition, and Article 102 bans the abuse of a dominant market position. If we prove their collusion to freeze you out unfairly, it becomes an antitrust issue under EU jurisdiction. But I must remind you, this also gives them a chance to restructure the system, which means you might lose one of your assets in the process."


    Richard only nodded. "I know."


    Nick grinned. "Heh, this is good. They already lost against Bosman, and now, if your case is added to the mix¡­ hehehe, it''ll hit them where it hurts the most."


    Richard turned back to his car. "Then it''s settled. We fight this in Brussels"

 Chapter 68 - 68: European Court of Justice

    Before escalating his case to the European courts, Richard first had to exhaust all legal remedies in England.


    This meant challenging the FA and UEFA''s decisions within the UK legal system. However, the presence of Lennart Johansson from UEFA changed everything. Since UEFA was a Europe-wide governing body, Richard could argue that his suspension violated EU competition laws.


    He decided to take his case directly to the European Commission in Brussels offices, the body responsible for overseeing competition law within the EU. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He was essentially following the same path as Jean-Marc Bosman, the Belgian player who sued both the Belgian FA and UEFA, taking his case straight to the European Court of Justice (ECJ).


    The Bosman ruling had challenged restrictive regulations on player movement, and Richard saw an opportunity to use a similar argument.


    He claimed that his rights¡ªas both an agent and a club owner¡ªhad been unlawfully restricted. His property rights had been violated, and his financial interests had suffered due to an unfair and legally baseless decision.


    Of course, proving direct financial harm and unfair treatment was crucial¡ªmere aggressive questioning or suspicion wouldn''t be enough. But Richard was confident.


    The duration of a case brought before the European Court of Justice (ECJ) or the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) can vary significantly, depending on the complexity of the case and the workload of the court.


    Richard didn''t mind. As long as his case was scheduled, he believed everything would be fine.


    Now, he sat in silence, witnessing football history unfold. This was the Judgment Delivery of the Bosman case, the moment when the final verdict would be publicly announced.


    The room where the hearing took place was just as grand, with tall ceilings, dark wooden paneling, and rows of benches that extended in an almost ceremonial fashion. This was the grand courtroom of the European Court of Justice, Brussels.


    A large, marble-topped table stood at the front, where the judges, dressed in their distinguished robes, sat on high benches, waiting for the final act in one of the most significant cases in European football history.


    Jean-Louis Dupont, the determined and articulate lawyer for Jean-Marc Bosman, stood at the claimant''s podium. His hands were steady as he looked up at the judges.


    To his right, RFC Li¨¨ge''s legal team sat with an air of frustration, having spent months trying to defend the transfer rules that had bound Bosman to their club. Beside them, the representatives from UEFA looked just as tense, their faces tight with concern.


    "My Lords, honorable members of the Court, this case is not just about one player, one club, or even one contract. This case is about the fundamental principles that underpin the very essence of the European Union itself¡ªfreedom of movement, the right to work, and free competition."


    Dupont turned slightly, first to face RFC Li¨¨ge''s representatives, then UEFA''s, emphasizing the stakes of the case.


    "Under Article 39 of the Treaty of Rome, the European Union guarantees the right to free movement of workers within its member states. Jean-Marc Bosman, like any other European citizen, is entitled to exercise this right." He paused for a moment.


    Looking at the judges, he pressed on. "A system where players are bound by contractual shackles, unable to move freely within their profession, is in direct contradiction to the principles laid out in the Treaty of Rome. This is not only unjust; it is a violation of European law. UEFA, as the governing body of European football, has sought to maintain these constraints under the guise of preserving the sport''s structure. But what UEFA fails to acknowledge is that their own rules contradict the freedom of movement enshrined in EU law. The rules they so adamantly defend have created an artificial and unjustified barrier to employment within the EU."


    The judges sat in silence for a moment, absorbing Dupont''s impassioned plea.


    Then, RFC Li¨¨ge''s lawyer, a stern-looking man with dark hair, stood sharply, cutting through the tension in the room.


    "My Lords, we cannot ignore the broader implications. If this Court rules in favor of Mr. Bosman, we open the floodgates to a completely unregulated market in football. The transfer system, as it stands, ensures fairness and balance, protecting clubs from losing valuable assets without compensation. This ruling would disrupt the fabric of football and have far-reaching consequences for leagues across Europe."


    He pointed toward Dupont with a thinly veiled sneer, but his opponent remained composed.


    "You cannot just tear up years of tradition for the sake of one man''s freedom of movement. Football is more than just a job. It is a business, with rules and structures designed to maintain competitive balance. What Mr. Bosman seeks is not freedom¡ªit is self-interest at the cost of the wider sport."


    The UEFA lawyer stood next, fully aware of the significance of their defense. "My Lords, Mr. Dupont''s arguments are based on theoretical assumptions that fail to consider the practical realities of the football market. The transfer system exists to protect clubs from losing their players without compensation. Without it, the entire structure of European football would collapse. This system ensures that smaller clubs are not devastated by free-market forces that might otherwise strip them of their best players."


    "Objection, My Lord," Dupont interjected firmly. "UEFA''s rules and RFC Li¨¨ge''s actions are not about protecting the integrity of the sport¡ªthey are about preserving the entrenched interests of those in power. This case is about fairness. It is about the right of a worker to move freely within the EU, and football must not be exempt from these basic rights."


    For the next two hours, arguments flew back and forth between the legal teams. Finally, the chief judge exchanged glances with his fellow justices before addressing the courtroom.


    Jean-Louis Dupont, standing tall at the claimant''s podium, could hardly contain his emotions as he looked toward the panel of judges. His client, Jean-Marc Bosman, sat nearby, anxious, watching this pivotal moment in European football unfold.


    "The Court has reached its decision," the chief judge announced. "We find in favor of the claimant, Jean-Marc Bosman. The transfer system as practiced by the defendant clubs and UEFA is in violation of EU law, specifically the right to free movement of workers as outlined in Article 39 of the Treaty of Rome."


    A gasp rippled through the courtroom. The RFC Li¨¨ge representatives sat in stunned silence, while the UEFA officials remained frozen, their faces contorted with shock.


    At the back of the room, Richard, who had been observing the proceedings, stood up, followed by Adam Lewis, his Lead Counsel, and Nick De Marco, his Legal Researcher.


    Jean-Marc Bosman''s verdict had been announced, sealing his victory and closing his case.


    Now, it was their turn.


    The large courtroom was packed with reporters, legal experts, and football officials. It was rare for an individual to take both the FA and UEFA to court, and the case had attracted national and international attention.


    By BBC Sports Correspondent (UK): "Could Richard Maddox''s Lawsuit Change Football Governance?"


    By L''¨¦quipe (France): "Un Nouveau S¨¦isme Juridique Pour L''UEFA?"


    By Marca (Spain): "?El Fin del Control de la UEFA?"


    By Gazzetta dello Sport (Italy): "Giustizia Europea Contro l''UEFA? Il Caso Richard Maddox"


    By Kicker (Germany): "Revolution im Fu?ball-Management? Richard gegen die UEFA"


    Outside the European Court of Justice ¨C Brussels.


    The brisk morning air did little to deter the swarm of reporters waiting outside the grand courthouse.


    Among them was ESPN''s senior correspondent, Mark Reynolds, who had managed to catch Richard just as he stepped out of his car. Cameras flashed, microphones stretched toward him, but it was ESPN that got the first word.


    "Richard! Just a quick one before you step inside¡ªWhat''s going through your mind right now?"


    Richard adjusted his coat. "It''s about fairness, about making sure football operates within the same legal framework as any other profession. The FA and UEFA believe they can act without oversight¡ªtoday, we challenge that."


    Reynolds pressed on. "Your opponents say this could destabilize the game, that your fight is self-serving. How do you respond?"


    Richard stopped for a moment before looking directly at the camera. "They said the same thing about Bosman, didn''t they?"


    A murmur rippled through the press as journalists jotted down notes. With that, he nodded at Reynolds and stepped toward the courthouse doors, flanked by his legal team. The cameras followed every step. The world was watching.


    In the center stood Richard Maddox, flanked by his legal counsel, Adam Lewis and Nick De Marco.


    Across from them, the defense table was occupied by Graham Kelly, representing the FA, and Lennart Johansson, the UEFA, alongside their legal team.


    For months, Kelly and Johansson racked their brains over the question that had haunted them: ''How had it come to this? Richard Maddox had seemed passive during the initial hearings¡ªwhy the sudden aggression?''


    At the bench, a panel of judges presided over the proceedings, their faces stern and unreadable. The lead judge, a respected figure in European law, adjusted his glasses before speaking.


    Judge: "This court will now hear the case of the applicant, Richard Maddox, against The Football Association and UEFA. Mr. Lewis, you may proceed with the applicant''s case."


    Adam Lewis rose, buttoning his suit. "My Lord, this case is a matter of fundamental fairness. My client has been unfairly sanctioned. His right to property has been violated without proper legal justification. At the heart of this case lies a simple but dangerous precedent: Can a football governing body unilaterally destroy an individual''s career without due process? They claim a conflict of interest, yet they have provided no legal basis to justify their actions under English or European law. Their conduct is not just unethical¡ªit is unlawful under EU law."


    Judge: "The defendants, The Football Association and UEFA, may respond to the applicant''s claims."


    The FA''s lead counsel stood instantly. "My Lord, the Football Association has one paramount duty: to protect the integrity of English football as a sport. The applicant''s position as both an agent and a club owner presents an undeniable conflict of interest. He has the ability to influence transfers in a way that could distort the market and undermine fair competition."


    Lewis countered, "Articles 101 and 102 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union prohibit governing bodies from acting together to restrict competition. The FA and UEFA have not used their regulatory powers to govern football fairly but rather to maintain control over financial and sporting operations while silencing independent actors like my client."


    The FA''s lead counsel turned back to the judge, his tone measured yet firm. "My Lord, our actions fall well within our regulatory authority to ensure that football remains free from manipulation. This is not a personal attack on the applicant but a necessary step to uphold the integrity of the sport and prevent any actions that could unfairly benefit any individual as a club owner or distort competitive balance."


    Richard leaned toward his legal researcher, Nick De Marco, and whispered, "What are Articles 101 and 102 again?"


    Nick leaned in and replied, "Article 101 TFEU prohibits agreements that prevent, restrict, or distort competition. If an agreement breaches this, it''s automatically void unless it qualifies for an exemption. Article 102 TFEU deals with the abuse of a dominant position. In your case, if UEFA and the FA are using their authority to unfairly control market conditions or stifle competition, they could be in violation."


    Richard nodded thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat as the proceedings continued.


    Adam Lewis was already on his feet before the judge had finished taking notes. His response was swift. "My Lord, this is nothing short of defamation. I want to make it absolutely clear: my client has always operated within the regulations and in the best interests of the game. The FA and UEFA are punishing him for optics, not for any actual breach of rules."


    Judge: "Defendant, Article 101 of the TFEU prohibits agreements that distort competition, and Article 102 bans the abuse of a dominant position. Are you prepared to argue that the FA and UEFA''s practices do not breach these provisions?"


    UEFA''s chief lawyer stood, clearing his throat. "My Lords, the claim is misleading and lacks merit. The FA and UEFA, as governing bodies, have the legal authority to regulate football to ensure fairness, financial stability, and competitive balance. The applicant''s dual role as both an agent and a club owner creates a clear conflict of interest¡ªone that jeopardizes the integrity of our sport."


    He glanced at the judges before continuing. "It is not anti-competitive to enforce governance structures that prevent individuals from manipulating transfer markets or financial assets in ways that damage clubs, leagues, and the sport as a whole. The European Court must recognize that football cannot be governed purely by free-market principles. It requires regulation to prevent dominance by private interests at the expense of the wider footballing ecosystem."


    The chief lawyer nodded, satisfied with his argument, before returning to his seat.


    Judge: "Applicant, governance structures are necessary to maintain fairness and stability within football. How do you propose preventing financial manipulation in the sport?"


    Lewis didn''t flinch. He picked up his legal document and handed it to the court clerk, who passed it to the judge.


    "My Lord, allow me to clarify two points. First, if we carefully examine the regulations, dual representation was not explicitly prohibited¡ªas long as there was full disclosure to all involved parties. And that is precisely what my client did. Every transaction was above board. He never pressured players, nor did he use his club ownership to manipulate deals. If you wish to tighten these rules moving forward, that is within your rights¡ªbut my client should not be retroactively punished for conduct that was not explicitly illegal."


    Without missing a beat, he continued. "Second, My Lord and members of the jury, may I first seek clarity on a key point?" He lifted a document, flipping through the pages with ease. "The phrase ''unfairly benefit any individual as a club owner''¡ªhow exactly is this being defined? Because if the FA and UEFA are implying that my client, as both an agent and a club owner, has ''benefited,'' then it must mean he has received something tangible¡ªwhether financially or in another quantifiable form."


    The jury shifted in their seats, and he could feel their curiosity sparking.


    ''That would do for now.'' Lewis thought to himself.


    Lewis turned his gaze toward Graham Kelly and Lennart Johansson, his face darkening as his voice took on a sharper edge. "So, I ask the defense¡ªwhat exactly is the alleged ''direct benefit''? If the FA and UEFA are implying that my client, has ''benefited,'' then they must demonstrate that he has received something tangible¡ªwhether financially or in another quantifiable form."


    The lead judge pursed his lips and glanced at the other panel judges before nodding.


    "The Court has heard the arguments. We will now deliberate."


    "..."


    From Days to Weeks, Then Months¡ªThe Proceedings Continued


    The FA''s lead counsel stood before the court, handing a stack of papers to the panel of judges. "We have documentation showing that the applicant represented a player, negotiated his transfer to his club, and directly benefited as the club''s owner. Does that not constitute self-dealing?"


    The judge reviewed the documents, adjusting his glasses before looking toward Richard, then Adam Lewis. "Mr. Chris Armstrong, Mr. Rob Jones, Mr. Graeme Le Saux." He set the documents down and looked directly at Richard, then at Lewis. "Does the applicant wish to respond?"


    "Yes, my Lord," Lewis replied before standing up. He then stated, "There was no transaction, no financial exchange between the club and my client. In fact, my client personally invested in these players'' development¡ªcovering their training, living expenses, and education long before they were legally allowed to sign a professional contract. Rather than profiting from them, he provided them with opportunities. He built their careers from the ground up."


    The FA''s lead counsel cleared his throat, exchanging a glance with Graham Kelly before rising. "The issue here is not solely whether your client received a direct financial benefit. It''s about the perception of conflict. Your client facilitating these transfers while holding an ownership stake creates an undeniable risk of undue influence." He turned toward the judge. "We don''t need to prove that money exchanged hands. It is enough that such a conflict exists."


    Lewis let out a snort. "Sporting integrity?" His tone was steady, but the courtroom could feel the subtle rise in intensity. "If we are using ''perception of conflict'' as grounds for sanctions, then why have the FA and UEFA, as football''s governing bodies, failed to establish clear regulations from the start? They could have explicitly prohibited it¡ªbut they didn''t. Players and clubs were governed by the same unclear rules, just like Jean March Bosma¡ª"


    "Objection, my Lord!" UEFA''s chief lawyer shot up from his seat, his voice sharp. "This argument is irrelevant. The claimant is attempting to draw false parallels."


    A murmur rippled through the courtroom. Now, the applicant had brought up the Bosman case. It was no surprise that UEFA had been utterly defeated in that case due to its unclear regulations¡ªjust like in this case now.


    Ethically, it was controversial, but where were the rules?


    There was no direct ban on such actions.


    The UEFA lawyer now stood, visibly uneasy. "My Lord, the optics of this situation severely undermine public trust in the sport. The European football community expects transparency and a clear separation between club ownership and player representation."


    Lewis turned to the judge, his expression sharp. "If we are arguing based on optics, then we are admitting that no clear rule was broken. Football governance should be based on law, not perception. If the FA and UEFA wish to regulate this matter in the future, they are free to introduce new rules¡ªbut they cannot arbitrarily penalize my client today for something that was not explicitly forbidden at the time."


    A low hum of whispers spread through the gallery. The judge''s gaze shifted between the defense and the applicant.


    Judge: "Defendants, do your regulations allow clubs and agents to operate in a free market, or do they impose arbitrary restrictions that limit economic freedom?"


    UEFA''s chief lawyer responded, "We act in the best interests of the game. If this ruling favors the applicant, it will set a precedent allowing individuals to wield unchecked power over multiple areas of the football business¡ªsomething we believe poses a far greater danger. This is not an attack on competition¡ªit is a necessary safeguard against conflicts of interest."


    He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Blurring the lines between club ownership and player representation creates legitimate concerns that must be addressed."


    The judge pursed his lips, then turned to the applicant.


    Judge: "In competition law, not all restrictions are unlawful¡ªsome may be justified if they are proportionate and necessary. Do you contend that the FA and UEFA''s rules lack proportionality?"


    Lewis stood. "My Lord, the FA and UEFA have a responsibility to act in the best interests of football as a whole." He smirked, shaking his head. "And yet, that responsibility didn''t seem to matter when they needed these deals to go through. They deliberately circumvented my client''s legal authority as an agent, facilitating direct negotiations with clubs and players¡ªnegotiations that, by their own standards, should have involved him."


    The people present exchanged glances, taken aback. The judge, clearly intrigued, cast a subtle glance toward the defense before saying, "Go on, Mr. Lewis." Meanwhile, the FA counsel and UEFA lawyer exchanged wary looks.


    Lewis adjusted his tie, ''Time for the final blow.''


    "My Lord, let''s not pretend that my client''s dual role is the real issue here. The FA and UEFA claim he compromised fairness, yet they themselves have exploited the weaknesses in their own regulations to serve their own interests."


    He turned back to the judge, lifting a document. "My Lord, I present to the court evidence of direct correspondence between the FA and club representatives involved in these transfers. These documents clearly show that my client was intentionally excluded from the process, despite holding a legal mandate as the players'' agent. If the FA and UEFA are genuinely committed to ethical governance, why did they disregard the very ethical and conflict of interest issues they now claim to champion?"


    Lewis turned toward the defense table, his eyes locking onto Graham Kelly and Lennart Johansson.


    "The defense has cited the transfers of Chris Armstrong, Rob Jones, and Graeme Le Saux as examples." He let the names hang in the air for a moment before continuing, "At that time, these players were under my client''s representation. Yet, when it suited the FA and UEFA, they conveniently allowed their transfers to bypass him entirely."


    Graham Kelly cleared his throat before signaling his lawyer to come closer. He whispered something, and as his counsel listened, his expression grew darker.


    After nodding to Kelly, he stood up, hesitated for a moment, then stated, "My Lord, we acted within our jurisdiction to intervene. If certain transactions required direct intervention, it was to prevent further conflicts of interest."


    Lewis blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then, he let out a short breath and straightened his posture.


    "Pardon me, My Lord, but I need clarification here." He turned to the defense table, his eyes narrowing. "Let me get this straight. When my client represents both players and a club, you claim it''s a conflict of interest. But when you, the FA manipulate transfer dealings to sidestep a legally appointed agent and impose unjust sanctions, that''s just ''direct intervention''? Isn''t that the very definition of a conflict of interest? You''re not regulating¡ªyou''re rewriting the rules as you go!"


    Lennart Johansson glanced toward his chief lawyer before letting out a slow exhale. Shaking his head, he slumped back into his chair, defeated.


    ''Kelly, you incompetent fool!!!''

 Chapter 69 - 69: The Scandal

    It had been a year since Richard had been absent from the English football scene, but that didn''t mean he wasn''t keeping up with what was happening at Manchester City.


    Even though his shares were blocked, he was still legally the club''s majority owner. In fact, the club was required to keep him informed, as he remained the largest shareholder, holding more than 50% of the shares.


    During his waiting period, he decided to catch up on everything that had been happening with Manchester City and English football in general.


    First, start with the 1992/1993 season, when the newly formed Premier League officially kicked off.


    This was the season when Richard''s shares were frozen, and his agent license was blocked. Reassessing the situation, he started reading through the faxes one by one.


    First, Manchester City was relegated to the Second Division of English football¡ªa bittersweet start for Francis Lee as he began his tenure as the club''s owner.


    Although City had to look forward to a season of lower league opposition, there was some good news: City had a rebuilding opportunity with less pressure. The potential for promotion could allow for restructuring and long-term planning.


    Richard shook his head before flipping to the second page.


    Following two disasters that claimed many lives in English football over the past five years, all-seater stadiums in the Premiership became mandatory starting that same season.


    However, the newly seated Kippax was not yet ready. As a result, sellouts of around 25,000 were expected at Maine Road until February 1995, when the Kippax was set to fully open, increasing the capacity to approximately 32,500.


    On the third page, there is the issue of the short-term replacement for the manager.


    When Peter Swales sacked Peter Reid from his managerial position, he was replaced by Brian Horton. However, following a disappointing season, Horton himself resigned, causing a significant drop in player morale.


    Richard was done with it for now and picked up the 1993/1994 season report. But as he glanced at the details of the ongoing season, he was stunned.


    "Holy shit," he murmured. The season started with many controversial events.


    First, at the season''s opening, Chairman Francis Lee hailed the new season by announcing, "There is a great feeling of anticipation in the club that this is going to be our season."


    Supposedly, there was no controversy here, but the problem lay with the jersey Francis Lee was wearing. It no longer featured the Umbro logo embroidered on the left chest, but instead had the Kappa logo.


    Yes, it meant that the famous sky-blue shirts were now Laser Blue for the new campaign, as the club had signed with Italian kit giants Kappa.


    Second, Francis Lee controversially appointed Alan Ball as City''s manager to replace Brian Horton, who had resigned. It was a quick decision made by a relatively new chairman who didn''t have a long history with the club.


    Many observers and supporters even felt that Ball was appointed more for his name and his friendship with the chairman rather than for any credentials as a coach.


    To defend his decision, Lee commented, "Alan Ball says this is the manager''s job he has been waiting for and that he is willing to die for the club. If the players go out with the same determination, we will be on our way."


    Richard frowned at this, then flipped to the next page before he was dumbfounded.


    It read, "On his first day of training, Ball''s wife was upstairs at Platt Lane, waving his World Cup medal to anyone who cared. Nobody did, much. His wife would often be at the training ground. Ball tried to stamp his authority, but having her flash his medal around like Tessa Sanderson at the Olympic Games did nothing to help the cause."


    Some of the players weren''t as enamored with Ball as Francis Lee, and the climax came with a player speaking in the media, saying, "We had no recognizable formation to speak of, and there was general confusion in our play. Unbelievably, it was a poor piece of business by the club, and those thoughts were echoed by our fans, who were also mystified."


    Another player said, "In many ways, it put a huge question mark over Ball''s judgment in the minds of many regarding tactics. I had tried to talk to the assistant, but he told me the writing had been on the wall, meaning Ball was aware...!"


    You must know about Cristiano Ronaldo''s full interview with Piers Morgan regarding Manchester United. So, yeah, one could say the situation was just like Manchester United at that time.


    The media joined the fray: The Sun wrote, "Chairman Francis Lee must have been thinking he made a grave mistake by bringing in his former England teammate and friend, Alan Ball. Those fears increased as City were beaten back-to-back before Christmas, slipping to the lowest position in the second tier of English football!"


    A poll run in the Manchester Evening News claimed that 83% of callers wanted Francis Lee to stand down, but Lee stated "I have made a commitment and I am prepared to see it through. I will stick it out as long as the genuine fans want me to stay."


    Things became very, very bad when Alan Ball sold all the players who spoke badly about him and instead signed the virtually unknown Martin Phillips from Exeter, a player he claimed would become "the first ¡ê10m player!" during the winter transfer market.


    The question is, why did things become very, very bad?


    Well, it''s simple. During the next match, the Monday after the game at Stoke, Francis Lee was in the tunnel with Alan Ball when suddenly, one enthusiastic fan in the stadium decided to make a grand acrobatic leap and shouted, "You fucking bastards have got this man the sack!!!"


    Did Alan Ball consider resigning? Did Francis Lee admit to his mistake?


    The answer is no. What they wanted was a scapegoat, and who better to blame?


    They didn''t have the money to revitalize the first-team squad, so the brutal cost-cutting measures began, starting with the youth squad. Almost half of City''s A-team, along with the B-team players, were not offered contract extensions.


    But it didn''t stop there.


    In a controversial move, all of City''s youth team backroom staff were dismissed, including Tony Book, Glyn Pardoe, and John Collins, who had led the City A-team to victory in the FA Youth Cup in 1986.


    In front of the media, Tony Book, Glyn Pardoe, and John Collins appeared and solemnly stated, "The youth section is being made the scapegoat for the club''s lack of success."


    Following the youth department''s issues, both men targeted the scouting department. Ken Barnes and Ted Davies, along with many of their colleagues, became targets, with the claim that the players they recruited could not bring Manchester City to the top. Instead, the club was relegated during Peter Swales'' reign.


    They believed that if the club had not been relegated in the 1992/1993 season, City wouldn''t have been in such a dire situation. To summarize, they shifted the blame for their predicament to Peter Swales'' management and those behind him.


    Ken Barnes resigned as the chief scout after a mass exodus of scouts who had worked with him for years. He stated, "There are enemies within and without. The quality of my life began to suffer, as did my family''s. I have had four years of unfair pressures, and I have even been blamed for performances on the pitch, why, I do not know."


    The Blues seemed to press the self-destruct button when the second half of the 1993/1994 season began.


    The losing streak continued, and tension grew in the locker room. The media had a field day, and City fans barracked the team throughout, chanting, "IT LEFT ME FEELING SICK~IT LEFT ME WONDERING~WHY I BOTHER~"


    RING!


    Before Richard could finish reading, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen of his new Nokia 2110 and saw it was Kelly¡ªor rather, Graham Kelly.


    He pressed the answer button, and soon, an anxious voice crackled through the receiver.


    "Hello? Mr. Maddox! I''m right outside your door. We really need to talk¡ª"


    CLICK!


    The line went dead with a sudden click.


    Richard sighed as he missed the block function found on modern smartphones. His case was almost guaranteed¡ª70% in his favor. Now, he just needed one final blow to make sure the FA wouldn''t interfere with him in the future.


    KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!


    Richard glanced up from his desk. Talk about the devil, he thought. He stood up and walked over to the door. When he opened it, he was met with the unexpected sight of UEFA''s Legal & Disciplinary Committee member, Lennart Johansson, standing there with a tense look on his face.


    "Kelly just called me," Richard said, stepping aside and motioning for Johansson to come in.


    Johansson entered the room, his face a mix of exhaustion and anxiety. He walked straight to the window, glancing left and right at the road below as if checking for anyone following him.


    Richard watched him for a moment before speaking. "Coffee?"


    Johansson didn''t immediately respond, his eyes still scanning the street below. "Yes, please," he muttered, his voice distant, not even glancing over at him.


    Richard didn''t mind. He could tell Johansson''s mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the case. In fact, this wasn''t the first time they had met in the last few days.


    The crux of the problem was simple. For Johansson, the situation had become more complicated than he''d ever imagined, and it was only getting worse for him personally¡ªand potentially for his career.


    The defeat in the Bosman case had already left UEFA''s reputation in tatters, and they couldn''t afford another scandal. The pressure was mounting, so knowing his chances of winning against Richard were slim, Johansson had already switched sides.


    He had quickly reached out to Richard through his legal team, requesting a private meeting to discuss anything that could be salvaged.


    Without a word, Richard poured the coffee, setting the mug on the side table before he took a seat and leaned against the armrest, patiently waiting for Johansson to finish whatever it was he needed to do.


    After ensuring everything was set, Johansson let out a quiet sigh of relief. He then sat down in front of Richard, his hands trembling slightly as he gulped down his coffee.


    "Did you bring it?" Richard asked.


    Johansson didn''t speak. He only nodded. Slowly, he slid a brown envelope across the table to Richard but paused midway.


    "Do you promise you won''t trouble me after this?" Johansson asked, his voice tinged with unease.


    Richard was speechless for a moment. "In the first place, you and Kelly were the ones who troubled me."


    Indeed, Johansson sighed at this. Kelly had received a large sum of money to suppress Richard, giving Francis time to take control of Manchester City. In exchange for supporting him, Johansson and his team were granted leeway by Kelly to investigate the Heysel and Hillsborough disasters.


    In his mind, it had been a fair trade: a small compromise for the benefit of his career. After all, wasn''t it just about keeping things "manageable"?


    The good thing was that he hadn''t accepted Lee''s bribe and had steeled himself, focusing solely on his career. Now, there was just one thing he wished for¡ªthat Richard would drop his case. His name was already glaringly attached to it alongside Graham Kelly, so he didn''t want the precarious UEFA to sacrifice him in the end.


    "Do you plan to expose Francis Lee''s bribery to Kelly at the hearing?"


    Richard didn''t answer immediately. Instead, he read through each document inside the brown envelope one by one. There were two key pieces of information.


    The first document outlined Francis Lee''s bribery, and as Richard read through it, everything began to fall into place. It wasn''t just Graham Kelly at the FA¡ªFA Chairman Keith Wiseman and Premier League Chief Executive Rick Parry were also involved in the bribery!


    That explained why the FA had so easily interfered in the City''s internal affairs, particularly how they had ignored City''s covenant to allow Francis Lee to take control of the club by leveraging his frozen shares.


    ''No wonder,'' Richard thought to himself.


    The second document¡­ As he read it, Richard''s mouth twitched. He then slipped the document, including the transaction evidence, back into the brown envelope and looked at Johansson seriously.


    "I need a favor."


    Johansson''s heart skipped a beat, but he composed himself. "If it''s within my power, I will help."


    "Can I still keep my agent license?"


    "Impossible. The discussion about dual roles has been going on for a while. In fact..." He paused for a moment, thinking of how to explain it. "Do you know why they never officially implemented rules against such a dual role?"


    "Why?"


    "Because they needed an example¡ªto send a message. To the super-rich. You understand what I mean, right?"


    His chest tightened as he heard the reason. "Tell me in detail."


    "Actually, this matter is classified at a high level, but whatever. Let me get straight to the point. Bernard Tapie of Olympique de Marseille, Christoph Daum of VfB Stuttgart, Brian Hillier of Swindon Town, and Richard Maddox of Manchester City¡ªyou''re all on FIFA''s Ethics and Disciplinary Committee''s watchlist. One wrong move, and you''d be dealing with the Court of Arbitration for Sport."


    Richard tapped the table anxiously, asking for clarification. "So, to be clear¡ªam I officially under investigation or not?"


    "Yes and no," Johansson admitted. "You''re being watched, but there''s not enough to take action yet. Your shares have always remained below the threshold for a majority stake. But the moment you become the majority owner, congratulations¡ªyour name will officially be on the list."


    "Is there any way to clear my name?"


    Johansson shook his head firmly. "Either give up your license or sell your shares. The best choice? Stay a minority shareholder. Honestly, you should be thankful that all these years, you''ve never been directly involved in City''s transfer market."


    Richard exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "But now that I''m a majority shareholder, does that mean¡ª"


    "Actually..." Johansson cut him off.. "Your situation isn''t that bad. You should thank Kelly, honestly. By keeping you tied up with the hearing, he let Francis Lee run City. If not, you''d already be answering a summons from the Ethics and Disciplinary Inspectors. Also..."


    He rubbed his chin before continuing. "I believe there will be a slight delay before the rule is formalized. With so much happening, the FIFA Congress will probably push it back for another year."


    "Which means I still have time before giving up my license?"


    Johansson was speechless upon hearing this. He could only nod.


    Richard''s shoulders relaxed instantly. "That''s fine, then," he said. "Alright, by the way, since you can''t do anything about my license, then help me with this instead. I need UEFA''s consent to challenge the restrictions on how many non-EU players can play in the Premier League."


    Johansson''s eyes widened. Before he could curse, Richard stopped him. "I don''t need UEFA to do it. I just need your support to stay silent when the time comes."


    Johansson gulped. "What do you want to do?"


    Richard thought for a moment, deciding honesty would be the easiest route. "Bosman challenged UEFA''s restrictive trade practices..." He paused, then continued, "Let''s say, while the case is still hot, I want to challenge the maximum number of non-EU players per club in court. You understand what I mean, right?"


    "FUCK!" Johansson gasped, rising to his feet and pointing at Richard.


    Richard could see his hand trembling. He didn''t care, though. He watched as Johansson paced back and forth, shaking his head.


    "No, this is impossible. You know UEFA insists on a maximum of three foreign players per club, right? Even with Bosman¡ª"


    "I don''t plan to change the rules forever," Richard emphasized. "I just want to ride the wave. What I need is for UEFA to stay silent when the time comes."


    "What about FIFA? The FA, the Premier League, even the PFA¡ªyou''re basically challenging all of them!"


    "Well, the FA will definitely support me to avoid a prolonged legal battle. The Premier League, didn''t you remember this?" Richard waved the brown envelope, clearly irritating Johansson.


    "But what about FIFA and the PFA?" Johansson shot back. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Can you help me with FIFA?" Richard pressed. "Let''s say, if I support them with ¡ê10 million, and also UEFA¡ªof course, I won''t forget this favor. Another ¡ê10 million for UEFA. What do you say?"


    "Y-you¡ª" Johansson wanted to protest, but the words got stuck in his throat. He could only mutter, "Aren''t you afraid of trouble?"


    "Of course, I''m afraid," Richard replied coldly. "But I''m not naive enough to use my name or my company''s name to suddenly give out money. You and FIFA can find a way¡ªCSR, fake charities, money remitters, I don''t care, as long as my name doesn''t appear. And you get your ¡ê10 million. How''s that?"


    Johansson continued to pace back and forth, muttering, "Crazy... crazy..." as he weighed the pros and cons. With ¡ê10 million, not even demotion could hold him back. He could use this advantage to rise through the ranks at UEFA.


    "What about the PFA?" he asked.


    "The Professional Footballers'' Association¡­" Richard thought for a moment before responding, "I think if the FA, Premier League, UEFA, and FIFA all stay silent on this issue, do you really think the PFA will be able to do anything?"


    Well, the PFA could do nothing. They could only fight through criticism and complaints in the end. The worst outcome? None of City''s players would be voted for the PFA Player of the Year or included in the Team of the Year awards¡ªwhich was perfectly fine.


    After all, who would vote for a City player anyway?


    With that question, there is nothing to be afraid of, so Richard sealed the deal with UEFA.


    Time passed since then, and night came so quickly that Richard didn''t even realize it, busy as he was with his court case. Since he had additional material, he immediately sent it to Adam and Nick, as they were his legal team for the trial.


    "We have a case that could blow up English football. Which one do you want me to drop the bomb on?" Adam Lewis, Richard''s lead counsel, smirked as he flipped through the stack of documents Richard had brought in.


    Even Nick grinned. "This is like watching a gossip column come to life, right?"


    Richard settled into his chair, resting a hand on his chin in thought. "What do you think? How likely is this to work?"


    He then shared his idea¡ªusing the first document to challenge the restrictions on non-EU players in European competitions.


    Nick''s eyes widened. "You want to blackmail them?"


    Richard nodded without hesitation. "It''s just to make them back off for a while."


    Adam and Nick exchanged uneasy glances.


    "And what if they retaliate?"


    "Then I''ll pay them off handsomely," Richard said confidently, but his words only made the two lawyers share another uncertain look, momentarily at a loss for words.


    "I think you''ve already made up your mind, haven''t you?" Nick said after a moment. "Legally, it''s possible. The PFA doesn''t hold any real power in this matter. The worst you''ll face is some criticism, and then it''ll all blow over."


    "Then it''s settled," Richard said, keeping the first document for his own use. He carefully placed the second one into a brown envelope before handing it to Adam and Nick for their upcoming trial.


    Adam and Nick soon bid farewell and headed to their own rooms, leaving Richard alone to relax.


    The three of them were staying at Sofitel Brussels Europe, the only five-star luxury hotel just a short walk from the European Parliament, saving them valuable time.


    RING.


    While watching TV, Richard''s Nokia 2110 buzzed to life. He glanced at the caller ID and let out a quiet curse¡ªit was Graham Kelly again, the Chief Executive of the FA.


    With a sigh, he picked up the call.


    "Thank God, I finally reached you," Kelly''s voice came through, tense and urgent. "Mr. Maddox, I''m terribly sorry to disturb you at this hour, but it''s me¡ªKelly. I need to speak with you in person. We really need to talk."


    Richard remained silent, letting the man ramble.


    "Mr. Maddox, we need to clear up some misunderstandings. Mr. Johansson and I have always considered you a friend. There''s no need for things to escalate any further. You know we¡ª"


    ''Oh, poor Kelly''


    Kelly''s voice faltered as he realized there was no response. A flicker of doubt crept in. Was the line still connected?


    "...Hello?"


    The silence stretched¡ªan unbearable, suffocating pause.


    Kelly groaned in frustration, his patience wearing thin. Unable to endure the silence any longer, he finally snapped, launching into curses and threats.


    "Maddox, even if you ruin my career, I have plenty of friends in the FA. I have people backing me. If I go down, you won''t get off easy either! You still want your license, don''t you? So let''s make a deal. We''ll loosen the regulations, and we can still reach a win-win solution here, and¡ª"


    Beep, beep, beep...


    "FUCK!!!"


    The call had ended. Kelly, seething with frustration, grabbed an ashtray and hurled it across the room with a loud BANG. His breath came in ragged bursts, his hands trembling as he tried to steady himself. He was cornered now, out of options¡ªexcept one.


    Johansson.


    "What the hell is this guy waiting for? Acting like he''s untouchable," Kelly muttered under his breath, his fingers jabbing at the keypad as he dialed.


    Click.


    The call connected. Johansson''s voice came through, sharp and urgent. "How''s it going? Did he take the bait?"


    "No."


    Silence.


    That was the only response Johansson got¡ªfollowed by the sound of slow, heavy breathing. The kind that came from someone struggling to contain their anger.


    "Johansson. Now it''s truly just you and me. Tell me, can your UEFA¡ª"


    "Mr. Kelly," Johansson interrupted, "I''m truly sorry, but next week, I''m being reassigned. I probably won''t be able to assist further in this case."


    Kelly''s voice turned cold. "What do you mean?"


    "¡­"


    "WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!" Kelly''s voice cracked with anger. "Johansson, are you betraying me?!"


    Johansson snorted. Betray him? It wasn''t him who had caused this mess in the first place. Did Kelly think he was stupid? It wasn''t him who had taken money from Francis Lee in the end.


    Kelly''s frustration boiled over. "I don''t have time for your half-assed excuses, Johansson. This isn''t about you running away and leaving me to clean up. You made a choice when you got involved in this. Now you owe me."


    "I don''t owe you anything," Johansson finally said, his voice ice-cold. "I don''t have time for this. Good luck, Kelly. You''re going to need it."


    Beep¡­ beep¡­


    "FUCK!!!" Kelly roared, smashing his phone in anger.

 Chapter 70 - 70: Obscuring The Trail Through Asset

    Richard''s dual-role case was relatively contained from the start, as only a select group¡ªthe super-rich who could afford to own football clubs¡ªwere directly affected.


    The European Court of Justice (ECJ) generally does not proceed with cases if the complainant withdraws, unless there is a strong public interest in continuing the proceedings.


    Since Richard is the sole plaintiff, dropping the case would be a straightforward process, unlike cases with multiple plaintiffs, where consensus would be required.


    While legal arguments had been presented, the case had not yet reached a decisive stage. The ECJ''s main consideration would be whether the case had broader implications for EU law.


    Given the circumstances, it is likely that the governing bodies involved would quietly adjust policies to prevent similar challenges in the future, rather than letting the case reshape existing football regulations.


    Richard kept his promise to Johansson in exchange for the brown envelope containing evidence of two crimes involving the FA and the Premier League''s top brass.


    Of course, at a critical time like this, suddenly dropping the case would naturally lead journalists and other football stakeholders to demand explanations. Thankfully, Richard and his team were prepared with responses.


    Journalist: "Why did you suddenly decide to drop the case? Were you pressured into withdrawing it?"


    Richard Maddox (calmly): "After careful consideration and discussions with my legal team, I''ve concluded that this is the best course of action for all parties involved. There are always discussions and differing perspectives, but ultimately, my decision was based on what I felt was the most practical and beneficial outcome."


    Journalist: "Does this mean you have no further plans to challenge football governance in court?"


    Richard Maddox (chuckles): "I wouldn''t say that. But for now, my focus is elsewhere. Alright, gentlemen, thank you for your time. Excuse me."


    With that, Richard signaled to his bodyguards and walked out of the courthouse alongside Adam Lewis and Nick De Marco.


    As they stepped past the gathered press, he offered a polite smile before disappearing into the awaiting car.


    In the car, Richard simply leaned back and finally let out a relieved breath. He then turned to Nick. "Has the things been delivered?"


    Nick nodded. "Yeah, I''d say they''re reading it as we speak."


    "Good, then," Richard murmured before leaning back and closing his eyes.


    While Richard, Adam, and Nick were wrapping up their case, something was unfolding in the UK¡ªparticularly in the world of football.


    At Lancaster Gate, London, the FA''s headquarters, which also housed the newly established FA Premier League office, a storm was brewing.


    Keith Wiseman, Chairman of the FA, was occupied with his work when his secretary entered, placing an envelope on his desk. Distracted, he barely acknowledged it, giving only a brief nod and a muttered "thank you" without glancing up.


    Hours passed, and as the afternoon wore on, Wiseman finally stretched his arms, feeling the strain of writing for so long.


    His gaze eventually drifted toward the unopened envelope. Absentmindedly, he reached for it and tore it open¡ªonly for his heart to nearly leap out of his chest when he saw what was inside.


    His throat went dry. How did this get out?


    Keith Wiseman was no fool. Sitting in the FA''s chair¡ªespecially one teetering on the brink of financial collapse¡ªwasn''t enough for him. His ambitions stretched far beyond that.


    His real goal?


    The FIFA Vice Presidency.


    The election was fast approaching, and while he had the credentials, he needed solid backing to secure his place. That was why ¡ê3.2 million had been discreetly funneled to the Welsh FA¡ªin exchange for their support in getting him elected as Britain''s vice-president on UEFA''s executive committee.


    A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, followed by a sudden knock on the door that made him flinch.


    "Sir?" His secretary''s voice came through. "Mr. Kelly is on the line. He says it''s urgent."


    Wiseman took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to steady himself before regaining his composure.


    "Thank you. You can go back now," he said, his voice measured.


    "Yes, sir," his secretary replied before quietly leaving the room.


    Once he was certain he was alone, Wiseman carefully slipped the documents back into the envelope before reaching for the phone and picking it up.


    "Wiseman here,"


    "Mr. Wiseman...?"


    The voice on the other end was unfamiliar.


    His grip tightened. "...Who is this?"


    "You''ve seen it, haven''t you? The envelope."


    Wiseman''s eyes widened. His pulse quickened.


    "Who the hell are you?! What do you want?! How do you know about this?!"


    "Relax, Mr. Wiseman. I''m not here to start a war," the voice replied, calmly. "I''m here to negotiate."


    "Negotiate?!" Wiseman''s breath came fast and shallow. Goddamn it. Am I being blackmailed?!


    "Is this about money?! How much do you want?"


    A low chuckle came through the line. "No, no. You misunderstand. I don''t want money¡ªI want your cooperation."


    "...Cooperation?"


    "There are going to be changes next season¡ªmaybe the one after that, too. I can''t say for sure. But what I can tell you is this: I want the FA''s full support. Just keeping your silence is enough. That''s all¡ªnothing more, nothing less."


    "Hey¡ªhey, wait a damn minute! Support what?! What exactly are you asking me to do?! Don''t just¡ªhey! HEY!"


    Beep. Beep. Beep.


    "FUCK!" Wiseman slammed the phone down, his face burning with rage. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Unbeknownst to him, in the very same building¡ªjust in a different block¡ªthe exact same drama was unfolding.


    This time, it was the Premier League''s Chief Executive, Rick Parry. And, well... let''s just say he had also enjoyed a little financial encouragement from Francis Lee. As expected, birds of the same feather flock together.


    Rick Parry, too, had sought advice from Wiseman to figure out how to handle the situation.


    "But we don''t even know who sent this!" Wiseman exclaimed, holding up the threatening document. "How are we supposed to deal with someone if we don''t know who they are?"


    Rick Parry stared at the letter, his mind racing. The words were simple, but the implications were damning. If this got out, it could destroy everything they''d worked for.


    He began to regret taking Francis Lee''s bribe now. It would have been easier if the blackmailer had specified what they needed to stay silent about, but since they hadn''t, the situation only grew more complicated.


    Now, they were left guessing. The worst part was that, no matter what happened in the league next season, they would have to remain silent¡ªotherwise, they''d risk retaliation.


    "Hey, come to think of it... there''s only one person who could be behind all this," Parry said suddenly, his voice tightening as the realization hit him. "Richard Maddox."


    Wiseman was taken aback, before a look of disdain appeared on his face. "Maddox? Impossible!" he quickly dismissed the possibility.


    "He''s in Brussels right now, fighting for his life. And besides, why would he target us? His personal vendetta is with Kelly and Johansson, not us. How could he even know about this? The only people who are aware of it are the two of us, Kelly, Johansson, and Francis. You don''t think Francis could have leaked this, do you?"


    "Hmmm... that makes sense too," Parry thought for a moment before agreeing with him.


    All these uncertainties left both Keith Wiseman and Rick Parry feeling cornered, unsure of where to even begin.


    "But we don''t have a lead, do we?" Wiseman suddenly said.


    "That''s right. Even with all your points, whether we like it or not, Richard Maddox is the prime suspect."


    "But what''s the benefit for him in blackmailing us? This will only cause him trouble."


    After thinking for a moment, Parry had an idea. "Let''s wait a while. We''ll follow the developments of his case first, then we can decide what to do next. For now, we need to find the motive. That''s the most important thing, so we don''t target the wrong person."


    "Good then. Let''s do it your way," Wiseman said, closing the discussion.


    Meanwhile, in Brussels, the situation took a different turn. Since Richard dropped the case as the plaintiff, everything seemed to be running smoothly.


    For Johansson, relief finally came. He wanted to bid farewell to Kelly, but after thinking about their last conversation, which had ended on bad terms, he decided to head straight to Lausanne, Switzerland, where UEFA''s administrative offices were located.


    He could have hinted to Kelly that Richard would eventually drop the case, but he didn''t dare. With the two pieces of evidence Richard held, even if his name wasn''t directly mentioned, if the case reopened and Kelly got involved again, could he be sure Kelly wouldn''t drag him into it as well?


    Wouldn''t that be just asking for trouble?


    As for Graham Kelly, for the first time, he could sleep peacefully. To be honest, the case had truly caused him a great deal of stress. But when Richard dropped the case, he was taken aback. At first, he thought the other party''s mind had become muddled.


    Why would he want to drop the case?


    But then, he was elated. For the first time in months, he could finally rest easy.


    RING


    Kelly lay in bed, cradling his pillow as he drifted into a deep sleep, only to be abruptly awakened by the ringing phone. Groggy and annoyed, he answered, instantly recognizing his assistant''s voice.


    "What is it? Why are you¡ª"


    "SIR, PLEASE TURN ON THE TV!"


    His assistant''s frantic words jolted him awake. "What''s going on? What''s the commotion?"


    "Sir, it''s too complicated to explain over the phone. Just watch the news. It''s all over TV!"


    The urgency in the last sentence sent a chill down Kelly''s spine. He quickly got out of bed, made his way to the remote, and switched to Eurosport. When he saw what was unfolding on the screen, he cursed loudly.


    The anchor began (serious and somber): "A child sexual abuse scandal involving young football players in the United Kingdom has rocked the sport. Anonymous sources have come forward, revealing shocking allegations..."


    Kelly''s eyes widened, but the news didn''t stop there.


    "Several former football players have come forward, claiming they were victims of abuse during the 1970s, 1980s, and even into the early 1990s. While no official statements have been made, rumors are swirling that the Football Association may have been aware of the abuse but failed to act or, even worse, shielded the perpetrators to protect their own reputation¡ª"


    "FUCK! WHAT IS THIS?!!" Kelly smashed the remote in frustration, pacing back and forth. His mind was racing, his thoughts spiraling.


    "Could it be an enemy within the FA?" he muttered to himself. "Wiseman? Impossible, he wouldn''t dare do something like this... But wait, could it be?"


    He wanted to say "Richard Maddox," but the next part of the news shattered his thoughts.


    The anchor continued, "Many victims have waived their rights to anonymity, and sources confirm that allegations are centered on abuse at clubs like Crewe Alexandra and Manchester City, linked to certain individuals within those organizations¡ª"


    Kelly quickly silenced his thoughts and removed Richard Maddox''s name from the list of suspects.


    "Think, think!" he muttered under his breath, the pressure mounting. The clock was ticking, and this storm was far from over.


    "FUCK!" He could no longer keep it in.


    Frustrated, he grabbed the phone and called his assistant. "Immediately set up a task force and investigate everyone involved. Don''t hold back. Get full cooperation from the police and all the teams involved¡ªnow!!!"


    He quickly issued the instructions, his mind racing as he tried to stay ahead of the chaos unfolding.


    Still in Brussels, at the Sofitel Brussels Europe.


    Richard, Adam Lewis, and Nick De Marco were watching the news that they had anonymously tipped off to the media.


    "Aren''t you worried that your club might be thrown into even more chaos after this?" Nick asked, glancing toward Richard.


    Richard took a sip of his orange juice before responding, "The more chaos, the better. With that, it''ll be easier for me to rebuild it from the ground up."


    "But to actually use a sexual abuse scandal... aren''t you worried this will leave a permanent stain?"


    "What''s there to be afraid of?" Richard clicked his tongue. "I haven''t been part of it. Besides..." Richard paused for a moment. "Once this case becomes public, it''ll give me the perfect excuse to distance myself from the people I worked with before."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Hmm, to put it simply, these allegations give me the perfect excuse to sever ties with them without facing any backlash."


    "He doesn''t want to upset the fans or other parties," Adam interjected. "He just needs a solid reason to reject them if City falls into his hands. That''s why he tipped off the media about the scandal."


    Richard nodded. "Exactly. With this, if someone like Tony Book or Ken Barnes, who are still closely tied to the club as legends, ask to come back, I can turn them down without hesitation, knowing I have a valid reason for it."


    Nick was still confused. "But you''re the club owner, right? You have the authority to reject them."


    "But he doesn''t want to risk alienating part of the fanbase," Adam explained. "He wants to play the emotional card just right, especially given the strong connection the fans have to these legends. He needs to be careful about distancing himself from those who helped build the club''s legacy."


    "If I outright reject them or distance the club from them, it would upset a lot of people. I''m not sure if they still have a loyal fanbase, but I don''t want to risk upsetting them or letting them go freely to Manchester United. You understand what I mean, right? This scandal is the perfect excuse to do that without facing public backlash." Richard explained.


    In short, the scandal provided him with a "shield"¡ªa legitimate reason to explain his actions and morally distance the club from these individuals, while still maintaining his position in the eyes of the fans. He could present it as a decision made for the good of the club, ensuring they moved away from any negativity tied to the past.


    With this, his plan to rebuild City from scratch was perfect. He could frame it as part of a new chapter for Manchester City, one where the club was no longer shackled by the baggage of its former players and management.


    Isn''t it flawless?


    He could fill the management with his own people, handpick players that fit his vision, tweak the club however he saw fit, and position himself as the club''s savior. This would give him full control over the narrative, allowing him to steer the club exactly where he wanted.


    "This is a clean slate and a fresh, especially with Manchester City almost relegated to the Division Two right now," Richard said, satisfied with his plan.


    Francis Lee''s time as chairman had been an unmitigated disaster. He squandered millions on poor transfer market decisions, demolished stand only to spend even more to meet new all-seater stadium regulations, sacked an attack-minded manager and replaced him with Alan Ball, dragged the club further into unmanageable debt, and, of course, set off a chain of events that would push the club to its lowest point in its more than 100-year history.


    "And you forgot one thing," Adam suddenly said to Nick. "With this scandal, he''s basically erased any trace that could link him to this leak."


    "Is it because Manchester City is in the news now?"


    "Yes, exactly," Adam said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "After all, no one would ever suspect that the person responsible for tarnishing the club''s reputation is the largest the owner himself."


    "So that''s how it is," Nick finally understood.


    Indeed, the anonymous sources mentioned by the anchor would become the media''s focus, drawing attention and speculation from everyone. But who would suspect that the culprit was Richard himself?


    By doing this, he would also erase any doubts the FA and Premier League had against him.


    "Hey, by the way, look at this. I kept it just for you," Adam suddenly said with a sly grin before tossing a newspaper at Richard.


    Richard''s curiosity piqued as he glanced at it, only to be taken aback.


    The newspaper headline featured Francis Lee, with a bold statement: "I would jump off the Kippax if City were relegated. Sources: 1992."


    "Then shouldn''t he have jumped twice by now? Hahahahaha!"

 Chapter 71 - 71: The Last Nail In The Coffin

    A few key points before the 1994/1995 season began.


    Richard dropped his case in the European Court against the FA and UEFA.


    English football was turned upside down by the news of the sexual abuse scandal, keeping both the FA and the Premier League busy.


    Richard''s revenue from pay-per-view (PPV) events in the WWF has paid off handsomely over the past six years. Having invested in the WWF back in 1988, he now holds a 30% stake in their annual yearly events PPV. This investment has earned him ¡ê200 million, boosting his total assets to ¡ê300 million.


    1989: $147.836 million (30%) ¡ú 1989: $44.35 million


    1990: $144.07 million (30%) ¡ú 1990: $43.22 million Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    1991: $126.2 million (30%) ¡ú 1991: $37.86 million


    1992: $123.32 million (30%) ¡ú 1992: $36.99 million


    1993: $89.24 million (30%) ¡ú 1993: $26.77 million


    1994: $87.4 million (30%) ¡ú 1993: $26.22 million


    The total of $215.41 million, when converted to pounds, would be ¡ê200 million. This is the total cash he currently has on hand, by the way.


    Previously, with his ¡ê229 million in cash plus a ¡ê71 million loan¡ªtotaling ¡ê300 million¡ªhe managed to acquire the Midland Grand Hotel for ¡ê150 million. Additionally, he secured three building complexes in Wilmington Square Garden for ¡ê50 million, negotiating down from the original asking price of ¡ê60 million.


    "I need money," Richard suddenly said as he looked at the newspaper in front of him.


    Securing the property alone wasn''t enough. He needed to refurbish everything to ensure smooth operations once it was up and running, allowing it to generate revenue. That would require additional funds. But that could wait.


    What couldn''t was the unexpected news that had just caught him off guard. The bold headline immediately grabbed his attention.


    "BMW MOVES TO ACQUIRE BRITISH AEROSPACE''S 80% STAKE IN ROVER GROUP"


    "GERMAN AUTOMAKER IN TALKS FOR LANDMARK TAKEOVER"


    "FUTURE OF BRITAIN''S ICONIC CAR BRAND HANGS IN THE BALANCE"


    This topic was being widely discussed across the country, and the reason was simple. Rover was one of Britain''s last major car manufacturers, and its sale to a German company sparked concerns about the decline of British industry.


    Many saw it as a loss of national pride. Richard tapped his fingers on the table in deep contemplation before swiftly making a call to Taylor Smith at Barclays to gather more information.


    It didn''t take long for him to receive an update. The current market capitalization of Rover Group stood at $1.2 billion. British Aerospace owned 80% of Rover''s stock, amounting to approximately $960 million, while the remaining 20% was held by Honda.


    "Why do you ask? Don''t tell me you''re thinking of acquiring Rover."


    "I am. That''s exactly my plan."


    "¡­You''re not serious, right?"


    "I wouldn''t have called you if I wasn''t."


    "Do you even have the money for this?"


    "Right now, I have ¡ê300 million."


    "You''re not asking for another loan, are you?"


    "That''s why I called."


    A brief silence followed. Richard could tell the hesitation on the other end of the line, so he pressed forward.


    "Listen, I can put up my assets as collateral. I have the Midland Grand Hotel (¡ê150M), the Britannia Inter-Continental London (¡ê40M), and an apartment complex (¡ê50M). That alone adds up to ¡ê240 million.


    I also own a plot of land in Mayfair (¡ê30M) and another in Islington (¡ê30M), right near St. Mary''s Parish Church. That brings the total to ¡ê300 million."


    The plot of land in Islington, right near St. Mary''s Parish Church, was originally set aside for Harry, his older brother, to build a supermarket¡ªif he still wanted to pursue that dream. However, given his brother''s situation in Oxford, Richard couldn''t help but twitch his mouth in mild frustration.


    Harry had entered Oxford in 1989 with Richard''s support, yet now, in 1994, he still hadn''t graduated. Richard shook his head helplessly. Thankfully, Harry hadn''t given up yet and had promised to graduate by 1995¡ªnext year.


    So, rather than letting the land sit unused, Richard thought it would be better to use it as collateral¡ªespecially if it meant securing the opportunity to acquire Rover.


    Thanks to George Soros breaking the Bank of England in 1992, the pound collapsed, causing property prices to fall to an all-time low. However, the devaluation of the pound also revitalized the UK''s domestic market, allowing it to bounce back. As a result, Richard''s land and property assets have now significantly increased in value.


    Now, that asset alone already ¡ê300 million and + his ¡ê300 million cash on hand = ¡ê600 million


    Richard continued, "And don''t forget my stake in the WWF. Over the past six years, it alone has brought me ¡ê200 million. Altogether, I have well over half a billion in assets. Now, tell me¡ªcan Barclays finance me for this acquisition?"


    There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Richard could almost hear Smith weighing the risks in his head. Sensing hesitation, he decided to play his trump card.


    "This isn''t just about acquiring Rover for the sake of it," Richard said firmly. "This is about restoring a British icon. BMW wants Rover, sure, but for what? To strip it for technology and rebrand it? To use it as an entry into the British market and then discard the leftovers?"


    In the future, instead of turning Rover into a profitable brand, BMW would lose billions, eventually giving up and selling Rover''s remnants to Ford while letting go of MG and the Rover brand altogether¡ªleading to the company''s complete collapse in 2000.


    Of course, Richard didn''t know this. But in hindsight, his decision would prove to be a natural stroke of good fortune.


    "Do you know anything about cars?" Smith finally asked the most important question.


    Richard paused for a moment, considering his response. The truth was, he wasn''t an expert in cars¡ªbut that didn''t mean he couldn''t manage the business effectively.


    "Well, don''t forget that Honda. Instead of going at it alone, why not form a strategic partnership with them? Besides, I only need to focus on the business side¡ªfinances, branding, and market positioning¡ªwhile leaving the technical aspects to the professionals. Isn''t that how it''s usually done? Listen, Barclays backing me on this would be a wise move."


    Taylor sighed. "I''ll need to run this by the board. Even with your assets, this is a significant sum. You''d need more than just Barclays to make this happen."


    Richard slumped, the weight of disappointment settling in. "That''s fine. If you can''t do it, I can still ask Harris for help."


    Smith rubbed his temple upon hearing this. "Fine, fine. But don''t get ahead of yourself¡ªno promises yet."


    Richard leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "Hahaha, that''s all I need for now."


    As he hung up, Richard thought for a moment before ultimately deciding to call Harris from Lloyds Banking Group¡ªjust in case Barclays turned him down.


    Let''s move into football now and focus on Manchester City.


    The club was hit hardest in the past two years. In the 1992/1993, they were relegated from the Premier League to the Football League Division One (second tier).


    The despair came suddenly, and the following season, City was not only relegated again but fell further to the Football League Division Two (third tier).


    To make matters worse, they were also caught up in a scandal.


    Based on the latest information he received, fans gathered outside the main entrance at Maine Road, demanding the proverbial head of chairman Francis Lee.


    They called on him to fulfill his promise and jump from the Kippax Stand.


    As the saying goes, be careful what you say, because it might come back to haunt you.


    The only trophy won during Swales'' time as chairman was the 1976 League Cup, the last major silverware the club would claim for the next 35 years. Swales hired and fired eleven managers during his reign, but the club never seemed to move forward.


    As for Francis Lee... well, being relegated two years in a row was quite an achievement in its own right. Lee''s choice of manager, Alan Ball, won only 26% of his games in charge, securing 23 victories out of 89 matches. The rest were 25 draws and 41 defeats.


    The media had officially labeled Manchester City as "Typical City"¡ªa club that would build you up, make you believe, and then throw it all away. Their back-to-back relegations under Lee became a bizarre and infamous record of decline.


    The deal was supposed to be swift, but Richard, wanting to enter the bidding war for Rover Group, needed to drive down City''s value as much as possible.


    When the next Annual General Meeting (AGM) arrived, it became Richard Maddox vs. Francis Lee.


    "You''re crazy!" Francis bellowed, fuming with anger.


    Before Lee''s consortium took over, City''s share value stood at ¡ê3,888, with a total club value of ¡ê8,009,880 and 2,060 shares issued.


    Two years after Lee took charge, the value had dropped to ¡ê2,600, reducing the club''s total value to ¡ê5,356,000.


    Now, Richard wanted to buy all of Francis''s shares for just ¡ê1,000 per share, which would lower the current club price to ¡ê2,060,000.


    "Chairman Lee, I think I need to remind you that Manchester City is no longer the club it once was under your leadership. Third tier! And what about the sex abuse scandal that has plagued the club? Chairman Lee, as the majority owner, I am deeply disappointed."


    Lee''s face turned red with the accusation. "I have nothing to do with the scandal!!!"


    But no matter what he said, the fact remained¡ªtwo relegations and the scandal already spoke volumes.


    The negotiation fell through, but Richard didn''t mind. No matter what happened, Lee couldn''t escape his grasp


    Lee''s consortium was considerable and influential, with strong connections. Eventually, Francis Lee managed to find an investor who was interested in his shares¡ªSaudi billionaire Prince Walid, who was looking to make a ¡ê5 million investment.


    The price hung in the air for a moment. "Francis, to be honest, City''s situation is dire. I can''t make a decision under these circumstances. There are many clubs far more attractive than City, especially now that they''re in the third tier."


    Lee''s mouth twitched. ''Why not just say you want to lower the price?''


    He took a deep breath before asking, "Prince Walid, what price are you willing to offer?"


    ''As long as it''s not in the millions, everything is fine,'' he thought.


    The prince shook his head. "Francis, money is not an issue for me. What I need to see is the club''s situation¡ªthe club''s accounts. You understand what I mean?"


    In other words, all the money flowing from every shareholder¡ªeverything, including any personal or corporate transactions tied to City. Francis felt his heart sink. That meant it would be like opening up half of the books from Lee''s consortium.


    He rejected Prince Walid''s offer.


    The second person Francis Lee wanted to woo was Wigan chairman Dave Whelan. He hoped to bring Dave on board as an investor in the club, but would he be willing?


    Everyone knew about the infamous Richard suing the FA and UEFA in European courts, and even though the case had been dropped, there were rumors circulating that the FA and Premier League were discussing tightening the rules around English club ownership.


    "Lee, I''ll be honest with you," Dave Whelan said, leaning back in his chair. "Between Manchester City and Wigan, which one is in a better position right now?"


    Francis Lee smirked, ready to make the first move. "Well, Wigan''s not in a better position than City. You''re also in Division Two. Don''t even try to tell me Wigan''s in a better spot."


    Dave Whelan looked at him, unimpressed. "But Wigan''s never been involved in any scandals."


    Francis Lee''s eyes widened at the jab. "I¡ª" he stammered, fumbling for a response, unable to find the words.


    Whelan shrugged. "Life''s not fair, Francis. But at least we manage to keep our lower halves out of the headlines and clean."


    Francis Lee was left speechless, his jaw dropping in disbelief at the remark.

 Chapter 72 - 72: Belongs to Me Alone

    "Richard, the FA and Premier League have lifted the freeze on your shares and your license. However, I want to advise you to be careful regarding your status as an agent. City has already been hit hard enough; we don''t want any more complications," Gordon Barry, the club''s barrister, warned him.


    "Don''t worry, I''ll give up my agent''s license immediately."


    "Good, that''s a step in the right direction," Gordon replied with a relieved pause, before adding, "Welcome back. I have an expectation for you."


    "Thank you, Gordon."


    City''s double relegation set a record, but it was one that invited mockery and scorn for a club that had barely made the headlines in recent years.


    By the time Richard arrived at Maine Road, two weeks had already passed since the season ended, meaning the players were now on their off-season break. As he drove toward the training ground, he couldn''t help but notice a small crowd gathered outside, visible through the car window.


    Banners were held high, featuring bold, handwritten signs like "Lee Out!", "We Deserve Better!", "Out! Out! Out!", and "When will he jump from the Kippax?".


    There was no shouting, no chanting¡ªjust a haunting silence. The fans stood motionless, their banners speaking volumes in the stillness. The quiet only amplified the tense, oppressive atmosphere. The message was clear: the fans had had enough.


    Manchester City had been besieged by rumors of sales and takeovers, legal battles over ownership, and ongoing talk of potential dissolution for years. Media exaggerations only intensified the fans'' unease.


    The club had fallen into its darkest period, and without the right intervention, it wasn''t just relegation to the fourth tier they were facing¡ªthey might not even survive as a professional football team.


    From the outside, or from the perspective of a fan, City''s future seemed bleak. It was a club that held little appeal for players or coaches. No manager or staff member wanted to board what appeared to be a sinking ship.


    Vrooom~


    The roar of the Porsche engine echoed, growing louder as it sped closer, gradually slowing as it neared the crowd of fans. As it approached the gates of Maine Road, they slowly creaked open, revealing the car''s arrival.


    Apparently, Richard had informed the senior club secretary, Miss Heysen, in advance. After all, she could be considered his informant, the one who kept him informed during Swales and Lee''s tenure.


    As the guard opened the gates for him, without question, Richard slammed on the gas, making the Porsche engine roar back to life.


    "Who is that?"


    "A new player? Did we sign someone new?"


    The question hung in the air as more fans turned to look, wondering if this was a sign that the club was starting to turn things around.


    After parking the car, Richard opened the door and was greeted by a familiar figure. He extended his hand and embraced the older, plump woman.


    "Welcome back, Richard. It must''ve been a tough year for you," she said softly, her tone tinged with sadness.


    She couldn''t help but think about how this young man, once full of hope, had fought from the very bottom to help Manchester City climb. But then, he was ostracized, pushed out, endured the pressure from the authorities, and forced to face all the challenges that followed.


    "Long time no see, Miss Heysen. I''ve missed you a lot."


    She had been the one to guide him when he first arrived at Maine Road. Back then, Swales was still in charge, and his share in the club was only a single one.


    "Hahaha, you''re still the same, Richard. But it''s so good to see you looking well," she said, taking him in from head to toe with a warm smile.


    They walked together toward the building when another familiar figure crossed their path.


    "Richard?! My God, it''s really you? Are you finally making your comeback here?"


    The voice belonged to an older, portly man with graying hair. He squinted through the car window, his eyes widening in disbelief.


    It was Jimmy Rouse, City''s youth dressing room caretaker. Richard had known him well when he was still a youth coach for City, back when they reached the FA Youth Cup in 1986. As a part-timer, Richard spent more time with Rouse than he did with people like Tony Book, Glyn Pardoe, and John Collins, who were busy with the team.


    "Always good to see you, Rouse. Still as blunt as ever."


    "Hahaha, that''s good to hear! But wait a minute¡­ you''re here¡­ does this mean¡­?"


    Rouse''s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, his wrinkles deepening in astonishment.


    "That''s right. I''m back."


    "Good Lord! I heard you were dealing with the FA... What case is this again? Whatever, oh heavens!"


    "Alright, alright, calm down, Rouse. Let''s talk in my new office."


    "..."


    Both Miss Heysen and Rouse exchanged surprised glances before bursting into laughter. "Hahaha, that''s right! Finally, someone''s forcing Lee to take a break¡ªguess miracles do happen!"


    Richard only smiled, not giving any further explanation. If they knew the truth, he was soon to be the club''s 100% owner¡­


    While Richard was busy inside Maine Road, another shareholder of Manchester City was arriving at the stadium.


    When he noticed the crowd of fans flocking near the entrance, he cursed his bad luck. He quickly turned the car around and stopped at the intersection.


    Leaning back in his seat, Lee closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. His head was spinning. After a moment, he reached for his phone and dialed the number for his assistant, who was currently at the consortium office.


    "Hello, boss?" the assistant answered promptly.


    "How is it going?" Lee asked, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Have you found any potential investors willing to buy my shares yet?"


    There was a long pause on the other end of the line, the hesitation clear. "B-boss, this..." The assistant stammered, clearly uneasy.


    "What? What do you mean you haven''t found anyone yet?!" Lee''s voice grew sharp, frustration creeping in. "I gave you two days¡ªjust two! You''re running out of time here."


    "Boss, it''s not that..." The assistant cut in, interrupting him.


    Lee was taken aback, his frustration quickly turning into confusion. "Then what exactly is the problem?" he snapped.


    "Well... boss, we just received a fax. It''s from Manchester City. They''re saying that if we try to sell our shares to anyone other than the current shareholders, they''ll consider taking legal action. Apparently, we''re violating the terms of a Deed of Covenant signed back in 1964."


    It states: ''In the event of a director''s death or his otherwise leaving the board, the shares should remain with the club.''


    Lee sat in stunned silence for a moment. "Wait... doesn''t the FA and Premier League have a waiver for this?"


    Back in 1992, when he bought Swales'' shares, the FA and Premier League had granted approval to bypass the covenant, effectively allowing it to be disregarded with their official consent. However, since his shareholding was still smaller than Richard''s, it meant he couldn''t simply override it.


    "The problem is... in the fax, there''s also a signature from the heads of the FA and Premier League..." his assistant added, his voice tinged with concern.


    Lee sat in silence for a few moments, trying to process the information. "You wait. I need you to find out what actually happened."


    Back in 1992, when he purchased Swales'' shares, the FA and Premier League had granted approval to bypass the covenant, effectively allowing it to be disregarded with their consent. But since his shareholding was still 5% smaller than Richard''s, he couldn''t simply demolish it.


    He quickly put his phone away, but just before he could hit the gas, he was shocked to see a crowd of people already peering into his car, holding banners or whatever they could get their hands on.


    "Hey, it''s him! This is Francis Lee''s car!!!"


    "Shit, he must''ve purposely avoided coming here because of us... and now he''s hiding!"


    "Hey! You have to respond!"


    The chaos grew louder, and Lee''s heart skipped a beat.


    "FUCK!"


    "FUCK?! DID YOU JUST SAY FUCK TO US??!! HEY, THIS WANKER JUST TOLD US TO FUCK OFF!! THIS GUY''S A REAL MOTHERFUCKER!!!"


    "ASSHOLE, GET DOWN HERE!!!"


    ''Ah shit, I should''ve switched cars before coming here!''


    He hadn''t realized they''d be able to find him here, and especially not that he''d curse so impulsively. He didn''t even realize the car wasn''t soundproof!!!


    He forced a smile and waved, attempting to calm the crowd, but there were too many people, and the situation was quickly spiraling out of control.


    He was trapped.


    Just as he was trying to figure out how to handle the fans, he saw one guy move toward the side of the road and pick up a large rock.


    Lee was rooted to the spot, completely stunned. With no time to think, he quickly started the engine and cautiously began to move the car, desperate to escape. But could he really get away without causing more chaos? Was it even possible?


    As he tried to drive off, he accidentally knocked into an elderly fan, sending him crashing to the ground.


    "Oi! My back!"


    "Hey, he hit someone! Stop, stop!"


    "HEY!!"


    Seeking refuge, he drove straight to the Lee Consortium office, his last safe haven. Before locking himself inside the car, he quickly grabbed his phone and dialed Kelly and Wiseman.


    He tried Kelly first. No answer. He called Wiseman next. Busy. Frustrated, he then tried Parry, the chief of the Premier League. Again, nothing. All the lines were busy.


    He cursed under his breath before taking a deep breath to calm himself. He wiped his face, trying to compose himself, then slowly got out of the car, pretending nothing had happened.


    Time passed quickly, and soon it was evening. Manchester City matter had been pushed to the back of his mind. Yet, at that moment, his assistant walked in, his face stricken with panic.


    "Boss, a large crowd has gathered outside. They''re claiming that you hit someone on your way here!"


    Hearing that, Lee''s eyes widened in shock as he sat up straight. When did he hit someone? Wait¡­


    The events from earlier that morning instantly replayed in his mind. His face went pale, and his breathing quickened.


    "Call the lawyer. Quick, quick! Call the lawyer, now!"


    An unexpected disturbance occurred, and fearing it could escalate to a police matter, Lee decided to have his corporate lawyer speak with the protesters. He was willing to negotiate, whether it meant compensation or whatever it took to calm the situation down.


    The night dragged on, and Lee sat in his office, anxiously waiting for an update.


    When the lawyer finally returned, he said, "Mr. Lee, they told me you rejected them when they asked about your plans for the upcoming season. They have no other demands."


    Lee was taken aback. "Only that? Are you sure? They just want to know about the plans for next season? Nothing else?"


    The lawyer looked puzzled. "Nothing. They didn''t mention anything other than the club."


    Lee listened carefully, still uncertain.


    "The security''s already in place, and only their representatives will be attending. It''s safe. If you want to avoid further disturbances, it''s better to meet with them."


    Lee stood up quickly. "Then get them here¡ªnow!"


    The representative was a middle-aged man, probably in his late forties, with a rugged, working-class look. His face was weathered, a few wrinkles around the eyes from years of hard work and long days.


    Lee thought this would be easy, but what he heard next shocked him the most.


    "We don''t want to hear your plans. What we want is for you to sell all your share. If you don''t, the incident this morning will be reported to the police as a hit-and-run."


    Everyone''s eyes widened, especially his lawyer. ''Did he really change his statement that quickly?''


    His face went solemn. "Sir, do you realize that what you''re doing is extortion? We could report you to the police."


    The man, however, was unphased. "Go ahead. Report me. The elder you hit this morning is my uncle. We have plenty of witnesses who saw how Mr. Francis Lee ran into him. Let''s see who gets locked up first¡ªthe hit-and-run case or this baseless extortion claim."


    He paused for a moment before raising his hand. "Am I asking for money or anything else? All I want is for you to take responsibility for what you''ve done to Manchester City!"


    Everyone was speechless.


    "I¡ª"


    "That''s it," the man interrupted, already standing. "We''re giving you 24 hours to sell your shares, to whoever it may be. If not, be prepared to go to jail!" He then strode off confidently. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "..."


    Lee slumped into his chair. Originally, he had planned to transfer his shares to his son, but now everything was spiraling out of control. He looked at his lawyer. "I guess I don''t have a choice right now, do I?"


    The next day, he gave a statement: "I''m not ashamed to admit that I have suffered for some time under the immense pressure I have imposed upon myself. Since my appointment, this pressure has completely overwhelmed me to the point where I can no longer function in the job the way I would like to. As this situation is affecting my wellbeing, I have asked Richard Maddox to relieve me of my obligation to manage the club."


    After giving the statement, Lee returned to his office to relax both his body and mind.


    To be honest, stepping down as City chairman was somewhat of a relief¡ªthough it also meant facing the reality of selling his shares below market value.


    He sighed deeply, picked up his coffee and newspaper, and started flipping through the pages.


    It was a habit¡ªbeing the chairman of a football club naturally meant skipping over the usual gossip and trivial news, jumping straight to page nine, where the football section was.


    "Pfffttt!"


    Suddenly, he spat out his coffee.


    On the front page of the day''s paper was a photo of Richard Maddox standing with Maine Road in the background. That wasn''t the issue¡ªwhat really caught his eye was the headline and the person standing next to him.


    [...City''s new owner, Richard Maddox, criticized the driver who was speeding in front of Maine Road at 7 AM on Wednesday, calling them ''irresponsible'' and a ''danger to society.'' He urged the police to take more action in monitoring road users. Maddox also advised pedestrians to be more cautious while walking, given the increasing number of reckless drivers on the road...]


    In the picture, Richard stood there, shaking hands with the very person who had threatened him the day before. How could they suddenly be posing for photos together just one day later?


    Did this mean...?


    "I..."


    Lee''s vision darkened, and he collapsed backwards.


    Just then, the assistant knocked and opened the door for a routine report. But when he saw Lee slumped in his chair, unconscious, he panicked. "Help! President has fainted!"


    Richard Maddox ¡ú 2,060 shares (100%) ¡ú ¡ê5,356,000.

 Chapter 73 - 73: Ambition

    Vroom~


    The Porsche sped quickly from The Holiday Inn, where Richard had been staying, toward Maine Road. It seemed that he might need to buy a house here, or perhaps staying at his new office in the Maine Road stadium would be a good option for now, since he would be very busy.


    RING~


    His phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting his thoughts. It was his brother, Harry.


    "Wait, do you actually own City now?"


    Harry held up the phone, clearly taken aback by the news that his younger brother had taken full control of Manchester City.


    "Why? You shocked? How''s it feel knowing your little brother''s doing better than you?"


    Harry shot back, "Ha, Division Two? What''s there to be proud of?"


    Richard smirked. "Hahaha, come on, admit it¡ªyou''re jealous."


    "What? You¡ª"


    The two brothers continued their playful banter before Harry asked, "So, what''s your plan for me?"


    Richard raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"


    "Huh? Didn''t you send me to Oxford to help you out?"


    Richard pondered for a second. "At first, I imagined that once you made it with your supermarket business, you could help me by getting your football agent license and taking over all the players under me. But it seems that''s not feasible anymore."


    "Is this about your case recently?"


    Richard shrugged. "Yeah, better safe than sorry."


    "...So, that''s it then?"


    "Are you still going ahead with your supermarket idea?"


    "No, I''ve gained so much enlightenment during my time here. I don''t think I can go head-to-head with Tesco and Sainsbury''s for market share."


    "Is that so?" Richard raised an eyebrow.


    ''But this is also good,'' he pondered for a moment before sharing his idea. "Well, the bad news is that this year, I''ll have to release all the players under me and shut down my agency before things get worse."


    Harry nodded. "And the good news? If there''s bad news, there''s gotta be something good, right?"


    "The good news is that the agency I was planning to build hasn''t launched yet, so it''ll be easier for me to let go of all the players. Some of them have special clauses, but I''ll make sure to get the best out of them this year."


    Harry''s confusion deepened. "Then what does that mean? What do you want me to do?"


    "What I mean is, when my agent license is terminated, I want to create a new agency, but it won''t be related to football."


    "And what kind of agency are we talking about?"


    "My plan is to switch my agency from football to entertainment¡ªsingers, bands, actors, actresses, models, or athletes¡ªas long as it''s not football. I need your help managing it."


    "...You''re kidding, right?"


    "Since when have I ever joked?"


    "You know, running an agency like that requires a much bigger budget, and we''re starting from zero."


    "You know your brother currently has a billion in capital, right?"


    "A billion? With a B?"


    "Yes, a billion."


    ¡ê300 million in cash + ¡ê700 million loan (collateral: ¡ê300 million in property + ¡ê400 million in WWE PPV shares with Maddox Capital brand name)


    ''Yeah, even if 700 million of that is a loan, the value''s still the same, right?'' Richard reassured himself.


    "Good brother! Alright, count me in," Harry said decisively.


    "Good decision," Richard replied, then they chatted briefly before both ended the call.


    When he arrived at Maine Road, the scene unfolded just as before.


    Fans had gathered, but this time, there was no chaos. They stood quietly, waiting, until the familiar vroom~ of an engine filled the air.


    The midnight blue Porsche, the same one they had seen the day before, appeared.


    "Here he comes," they whispered.


    As people stepped aside to make way for the car, they were surprised when the Porsche suddenly slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road instead.


    Many fans didn''t fully understand the internal workings of City, especially the long-standing covenant that had been in place since 1964. What they wanted to know was simple: who was the next owner, and could they bring City back to the top division?


    That was all that mattered. As for the championship?


    Forget it.


    Just surviving would be a blessing.


    So, when they heard Richard Maddox''s name¡ªrather than another faceless investor or some greedy businessman¡ªthere was a mix of excitement, relief, and a bit of skepticism.


    After years of heartbreak and disappointment, there was finally hope for the club''s future. But Richard also hadn''t proven himself yet, had he? After all, he had been absent all this time.


    At least however, they knew Richard was responsible for discovering some of the brightest talents for City over the past years: Chris Armstrong, Rob Jones, Graeme Le Saux, and Steve McManaman, not to mention all the players he represented as an agent.


    Fans were stunned¡ªeveryone had been successful, even glaringly so.


    ''Is it a coincidence?" they wondered. "Twelve players shaking up the Premier League, each gunning for the top scorer spot every year? Unbelievable!''


    It sparked hope.


    "What''s everyone doing here so early in the morning?" Richard asked with a smile, his tone lighthearted as he stepped out of the car.


    While the crowd was still deep in thought, a sudden voice snapped them back to reality. Their eyes lit up, and in an instant, they swarmed toward him, eagerly holding out their City jerseys and markers, hoping for a signature.


    After chatting with fans outside the gates and shaking hands with them, Richard reassured them, promising to rebuild City from the ground up. But when a young fan, probably around 14 years old, nervously asked about the future of his favorite player, Richard''s answer left him stunned.


    "Mr. Maddox, what about Kinkladze?" the boy asked, holding out a City jersey for Richard to sign.


    Richard glanced at him while uncapping his marker. "Are you his fan?" he asked.


    "Yes," the kid nodded eagerly.


    Gio Kinkladze¡ªhis first season, 9 goals. His second, 17. On paper, an outstanding record for City. But there was a problem. Despite his numbers, Kinkladze was wildly inconsistent.


    One match, he''d score a hat-trick; the next three, he''d go missing. Then, suddenly, another flurry of goals. It was a frustrating cycle. In football, no matter how many goals you score in a match, you still only get three points.


    Any coach would prefer a striker who scores steadily¡ªone goal per game¡ªrather than someone who explodes with three goals one match and then goes silent for weeks.


    Richard paused for a moment, weighing the pros and cons, then shook his head. "There''s no place for him next season."


    The young fan froze, his mouth slightly open in shock.


    Richard continued, "The first squad, coaching staff, and management will likely change. When that happens, some familiar faces may no longer be here. All I ask is for your patience. What matters most is that we deliver results¡ªand we will. I will."


    Then, lowering his voice, he raised his hand, fingers spread wide.


    "Five years. Give me five years, and I''ll bring home the trophy. That''s my promise."


    Stay rational. Stay grounded. The FA Cup and League Cup? Achievable. But the Premier League? Possible¡ªjust highly unlikely, especially with Manchester United dominating.


    ''Unless the club''s finances are in perfect shape¡­ ugh.'' Richard ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping in as he thought about the club''s situation.


    Silence fell over the crowd.


    Richard let the weight of his words settle before glancing at security and giving a small nod. Then, turning back to the fans, he offered a reassuring smile.


    "Alright, guys, I truly appreciate your support, but I have to go now. Once again, thank you for standing by us."


    Even the security guards seemed momentarily speechless before snapping back to attention, following Richard''s cue to clear a path for his car.


    "Take care, everyone! Don''t stay out too long, and don''t forget to grab some breakfast, alright? See you soon!"


    With that, he got into his car and drove into the stadium.


    Vroom~


    It was a harsh reality no City fan wanted to face: for the first time in their history, the club was starting a season in the third tier of English football, following a painful relegation from Division 1.


    This setback meant the Blues now had to climb two divisions to return to the top tier. If only they had managed to survive in the Premier League¡ªat least then, they would have reaped the benefits of the lucrative television contract and secured a few key signings. Now, the Blues were forced to tighten their belts and say goodbye to their stars.


    Richard didn''t care at all.


    BANG!


    "¡­?"


    A loud, familiar sound pierced the air.


    Richard instinctively turned his head toward the source. Of course, he knew that sound¡ªthe sharp, satisfying crack of a ball being struck


    The closer he got, the clearer the sounds became¡ªfootballs being kicked, shouts, and commands being barked.


    How long had it been since he''d heard these familiar noises?


    Since Manchester City had been relegated, the club had imposed a harsh consequence: the players'' summer break had been cut short.


    They were required to return early for preseason training to prepare for the long road ahead. Of course, Richard hadn''t set that rule. That was the job of the current manager, Alan Ball.


    "Hmm."


    When he arrived at the training ground, Richard narrowed his eyes.


    "Hey! Move back, move back!"


    "If you can''t hold onto the ball, pass it quickly! They''re pressing you!"


    Shouts rang out across the pitch, voices sharp with urgency and frustration.


    He decided to observe for a bit longer. This was the first training session after the offseason break and, more importantly, the first time he was watching the first team train in person.


    The players sprinted across the pitch, passing swiftly, engaging in rondos, and sharpening their movements with every touch. But what really caught Richard''s attention wasn''t the players¡ªit was the man overseeing them.


    "Ray Donard and Joe Royle."


    The head coach and the first-team coach.


    Richard''s expression darkened.


    ''All these people¡­ they''ve already received their summons letters, yet they never responded. And now, the moment the players arrive, they suddenly show up? What the hell?''


    With that, he approached them, who were deep in an intense discussion.


    "The two wingers¡ªthey''re both capable with their weaker foot, right? Not as strong as their dominant one, but decent enough?"


    "The opposing defense is quick. If they try to dribble down the line, they''ll get caught. Tell them to cut inside instead. Their ball control is good enough."


    "What?" Richard suddenly interjected, intentionally drawing their attention.


    The two men turned around, blinking in surprise.


    "¡­Who are you?"


    "..."


    "I said, who are you? And how did you even get in here?"


    Richard''s mouth twitched, but he didn''t bother repeating himself. Instead, he let out a slow, disappointed sigh.


    "Pathetic. Horrendous. It gives me chills," he muttered, lowering his voice but unable to hide his frustration as he observed the training session.


    Donard and Royle exchanged glances, clearly taken aback. Who the hell was this guy?


    "Passing? Weak. Physical duels? Nonexistent. Speed? Laughable. Clearances? A disaster," Richard continued, his eyes never leaving the pitch.


    ''Want to compete with Manchester United with this squad? Hah!''


    It seemed he had no choice but to invest heavily in the squad next season. But as he glanced toward the Kippax Stand and the Platt Lane Stand¡ªboth battered and barely holding up after the fury of the fans in the past two seasons¡ªa bitter smile crept onto his face. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It meant that he couldn''t rely too much on ticket sales and stadium revenue next season. After all, who would want to watch a third-tier match?


    ''This is a good thing, though. It can be guaranteed that there won''t be any pitch invasions next season, like there were last year.''


    "Are you the new owner?"


    A deep, gruff voice pulled him from his thoughts. Standing before him was a stocky man with ginger hair, a round, weathered face, and a compact frame.


    Alan Ball.


    "I''m Alan Ball," he said, extending his hand.


    Richard glanced at Ball''s outstretched hand for a moment before finally shaking it. But he didn''t let the moment pass without a jab.


    "A good manager just stands on the touchline, arms crossed or hands in their pockets during training? They should be involved, pushing the players, guiding them, not just watching from the sidelines like a spectator."


    "..."


    But he wasn''t done yet. Richard took a deep breath, then locked eyes with Ball, his expression turning serious.


    "Mr. Manager, let me ask you something¡ªwhy did you bring your wife to training today?"


    ''And there she was, standing by the Platt Lane Stand, casually watching the training as if she owned all of them. Also, why was she still wearing the World Cup medal around her neck? Don''t tell me she''s been like this for the past two years, or is it because of him? Interesting.''


    Showing off?


    Trying to stamp her husband''s authority by parading that medal around?


    "What''s truly unacceptable is abandoning your post and turning the training ground into a dating spot. Hey, coach, you do realize that''s a complete failure of professional responsibility, right?"


    Ball scoffed. "Donard and Royle are overseeing the session."


    Richard merely gave him a long, deep look.


    "There will be an annual grand meeting next week. Don''t be late," he said before leaving.

 Chapter 74 - 74: South America

    Richard allocated a total of ¡ê970 million for the Rover Group bid, leaving him with only about ¡ê30 million out of the ¡ê1 billion in capital he originally had.


    According to Barclays'' informants, BMW''s focus this year was on strengthening its position in the luxury car market and solidifying its global presence, particularly in North America and Asia.


    They were concentrating on developing and releasing more advanced versions of their existing models, such as the BMW 5 Series and BMW 7 Series, which meant their available cash resources were relatively limited.


    Barclays estimated that BMW could likely utilize up to ¡ê900 million, with the possibility of extending it to ¡ê950 million at most, or ¡ê960 million if the situation demanded it. This meant that no matter what, his bid was ten million higher than theirs.


    With this valuable insight, Richard appointed Barclays as the intermediary to facilitate the financing and arrangement of the transaction, allowing him to focus on the task of rebuilding Manchester City.


    Next week is the AGM, which means he only has about eight working days to complete at least one of the critical tasks that must be finished.


    "Sir, did you call me?"


    The door to his new office swung open, and there stood John Maddock¡ªwell-groomed and composed¡ªwaiting for confirmation from the new City owner.


    ''John Maddock,'' Richard thought to himself, the name almost rolling off his tongue.


    The man who orchestrated England''s first-ever football shirt sponsorship. As expected, with his shrewdness, he was the only one who had managed to survive both the Swales and Lee eras at City.


    Appointed by his old pal, Peter Swales, during his reign, he had become almost untouchable, as the fans always targeted Swales and Lee¡ªnot him¡ªdespite him being the current general manager.


    Richard looked at him for a moment before saying, ''Yes, help me draft a contract for owner loans and equity injections of ¡ê30 million immediately. Also, use my personal name, not Maddox Capital. I will lend it to the club for now."


    The club was currently in massive debt, over ¡ê40 million. What he wanted now was to avoid unnecessary costs. Since the loans came from him personally, the club avoided taking on commercial debt.


    Commercial debt typically comes with interest payments and repayment schedules, which could impose significant financial pressure on the club. With his name listed as the lender, he ensured that City didn''t take on debt from external financial institutions, such as banks or investors.


    Another advantage of this loan arrangement was that, as the lender, he could make the loan interest-free, with no set repayment terms. These loans were never expected to be repaid¡ªthey were essentially free money.


    "Also..." Richard thought for a moment, "report these loans in the financial records, and make sure they''re not considered hidden spending."


    Transparency and compliance are important. Unlike other forms of financial support that could be seen as indirect financial aid, these loans were clearly outlined, making it clear that the funds came directly from him, so they were shown as formal loans from the owner.


    "Understood. Anything else?" Maddock nodded. Even his voice and tone were remarkably composed at that moment.


    "Hmm, tell me about the current situation of the first team. How many leave requests have been made? Are there any offers coming in for them?"


    "Wait a moment," he said, fumbling with the documents in his hand before picking up the one with the red clip.


    "Several players have already submitted transfer requests to the club, including Gio Kinkladze, Kit Symons, Nicky Summerbee, Ray Kelly, John Burridge, David Rocastle, Mike Sheron, Steve McMahon, and Uwe R?sler, who rejected a contract extension last season."


    Richard tapped the table with his finger. "Is that all? What about the offer?"


    "Currently, only Gio Kinkladze has received a bid from Ajax for ¡ê5 million, and Kit Symons has an offer from Fulham for ¡ê400,000."


    "What do you think?"


    "Hmm, from what I know, we can push Gio Kinkladze''s offer to ¡ê6 million."


    "Oh, why is that?"


    "Because it''s well-known that Ajax is trying to replicate Millwall''s 4-4-2 setup with Sheringham and Cascarino. They want to pair Kinkladze with Shota Arveladze, as both of them coincidentally shared a house in Amsterdam when they were in the academy."


    Richard nodded. "Then accept it immediately if the transfer reaches ¡ê6 mil¡ª" He stopped for a moment before shaking his head. "No, accept the ¡ê5 million right away. Also, remove all transfer restrictions on all players. If the offer matches their current valuation, we sell immediately."


    Maddock was taken aback. "What? All of them?"


    "Yes, all of them."


    Maddock frowned, thinking the new owner was prioritizing money over competitiveness. "You can''t. If we remove the clauses, there''s a risk our squad won''t meet the minimum requirements for next season. Their current market value is at its lowest, making them targets for many clubs."


    "It doesn''t matter¡ªas long as the price is right."


    "Also, what about the current manager? Does he know about this?"


    Richard waved his hand dismissively. "Forget about him."


    It was then that Maddock understood¡ªthe manager''s sacking was inevitable.


    Still, Maddock attempted to reason with him. "But we don''t even have a new sporting director yet. Without one, planning the transfers for next season will be incredibly difficult."


    After Francis Lee sold his shares, he swiftly withdrew his people, leaving nearly every department at City vacant. It seemed like he was intent on teaching Richard a lesson, but in reality, Richard was grateful¡ªhe didn''t have to pay severance for breaking their contracts.


    "For now, I will handle on-the-pitch management," Richard said, casting a deep gaze toward Maddock before continuing, "As for off-the-pitch, I will entrust that to you."


    The more Maddock listened, the deeper his frown grew. This was the same as the new owner trying to cut his power.


    On-the-pitch management covered roles like Sporting and Technical Director. These were the people responsible for shaping the club''s footballing strategy, including transfers, recruitment, and youth development, as well as overseeing coaching methodologies and the overall footballing philosophy. As for off-the-pitch management, it mostly dealt with business operations.


    The problem was¡ªwhat business did Manchester City even have at the moment?


    If they were in the Premier League, the weight of it might be different, but in the second division?


    ''Sigh.'' It seemed he needed to submit his resignation letter quickly.


    "Understood, I will do that," was all he said. Since the owner had decided, he probably didn''t care much about it, so getting a little benefit should be okay, right?


    There are currently 32 players listed in the first squad.


    Removing Gio Kinkladze, Kit Symons, Nicky Summerbee, Ray Kelly, John Burridge, David Rocastle, Mike Sheron, Steve McMahon, and Uwe R?sler would leave City with 23 players.


    This means that if he wants to overhaul the squad, the current roster won''t be enough to compete in Division 2, the FA Cup, and the League Cup alone.


    He needs reinforcements.


    The first names that came to mind were Arsenal''s defensive duo, Andy Linighan and Martin Keown.


    They were top-quality defenders, competing alongside Steve Bould and captain Tony Adams at the heart of one of the strongest teams with the best defense in the English league.


    Keown was also capable of filling in at right-back, left-back, and central midfield, demonstrating a versatility that earned him call-ups for several seasons with the Three Lions. The only problem was¡ªwould they be willing to play in the third tier?


    Rumors in the media suggested that Andy Linighan''s future at Arsenal was in doubt, as it was known that George Graham was looking for a new defender. As for Keown, he was reportedly unhappy after making only 16 appearances last season following his return from injury.


    Richard intended to take full advantage of the situation, but before he could even make a bid, it wasn''t the players or the club that responded¡ªit was their agents, and he did it in front of the media.


    "Linighan and Keown have no intention of playing in the third tier," the agent stated bluntly. "I think they can only dream."


    "..."


    "Fine then," Richard muttered, pulling back his interest in signing Linighan and Keown. Instead, he sent a bold ¡ê500,000 bid to Tottenham Hotspur for one of their promising young defenders.


    Sol Campbell.


    Tottenham, however, showed no interest in entertaining the offer, completely ignoring the bid¡ªa clear sign of their disdain.


    Youth team manager Keith Waldon had already made it clear how highly the club valued Campbell, stating, "It''s his physicality rather than his technical ability that makes him stand out as a top prospect for the future. At just 14, he was one of only 16 young footballers accepted into the prestigious training program at Lilleshall Hall."


    Tottenham clearly had no intention of letting him go cheaply.


    Undeterred, Richard increased his offer¡ª¡ê600,000.


    No response.


    He raised it again¡ª¡ê700,000. Still nothing.


    Frustrated, he decided to go all in and faxed an offer of ¡ê1 million.


    This time, the response came swiftly.


    ¡ê5 million!


    "Hah!" Richard scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "¡ê5 million? They must think I''m desperate."


    He quickly pulled out of the Campbell transfer and shifted his focus to other areas.


    South America.


    This is where he intended to challenge the maximum limit of three non-EU players for English clubs. It was better to exploit this loophole while the regulations were still weak¡ªafter all, isn''t it?


    Richard took a direct flight to South America to accelerate his transfer plans. His first stop was Est¨¢dio Palestra It¨¢lia, also known as Parque Antarctica, the home of Palmeiras.


    His target?


    Roberto Carlos.


    Naturally, securing him wouldn''t come cheap. At just 21 years old, Roberto Carlos had already played a key role in Palmeiras'' Brazilian league triumph, solidifying his reputation as one of the most promising young defenders.


    But Richard had learned his lesson. This time, he went in strong, placing an initial bid of ¡ê2.5 million¡ªan offer that immediately caught Palmeiras'' attention.


    The club''s higher-ups quickly prioritized the deal, as this was a record-breaking bid for them. However, Palmeiras weren''t going to let their prized left-back go so easily.


    They countered, demanding ¡ê4 million. Negotiations intensified, with Richard determined to get his man without overpaying. He increased his offer to ¡ê2.8 million, but Palmeiras held firm.


    After further discussions and some tough bargaining, the two parties finally settled on fee of ¡ê3 million. The deal was agreed upon, and Richard was finally allowed to negotiate a contract with Roberto Carlos.


    At the small apartment, R. Melo Palhetta, Richard personally visited to discuss the transfer.


    His arrival didn''t excite Roberto in the slightest. After all, he knew Manchester City was playing in the third tier. Without hesitation, he calmly said, "Please leave; I''m not interested in joining Manchester City."


    Richard remained unfazed. Instead of wasting time on small talk, he simply placed a contract in front of him.


    Roberto barely glanced at the document before shaking his head. "I have no intention of joining Manchester City. I don''t see a future there."


    "Is it about the current manager? Don''t worry, he''ll be replaced next week. But before you dismiss it outright, why not take a look at the contract first?"


    Roberto was taken aback. Was it really okay to talk so openly about sacking a manager?


    "Your potential is enough for me to show how much I value you. This information is a sign of my sincerity, and this contract is the proof¡ªan invitation to be part of something bigger at City."


    The other party was at a loss for words. Desperation? No, this was another level of confidence. The man before him didn''t beg¡ªhe sincerely invited him. And most importantly, he showed him respect.


    He hesitated but, out of courtesy, picked up the contract. The moment his eyes landed on the salary offer, he froze.


    "T-T-Two thousand? Pounds?!!"


    Roberto looked at Richard, who appeared utterly calm, in disbelief, even doubting whether he had put the wrong number there.


    Richard quoted his experience today: "Imagine making in a single year what others take ten or twenty to earn¡ªwho would refuse that?"


    The same thing happened at one of the Big Twelve clubs of Brazilian football¡ªEst¨¢dio do Morumbi, home of S?o Paulo.


    This time, his target was Cafu.


    Richard''s ¡ê2 million bid was enough to prompt the club to allow him to begin discussions with the player.


    When Cafu saw the number of zeros he could earn in a year, he gulped and looked back at Richard, who simply smiled at him. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Would players ever come to Manchester City?


    If you asked anyone, they would shake their head without hesitation. ''City lacks a rich history and plays in the third tier. Given the current turmoil, who would willingly jump into this inferno?''


    But what if money talked?


    Richard knew exactly what he was doing. The players he targeted were still young¡ªhungry for monetary gain, achievements, recognition, and the chance to prove themselves on the biggest stage.


    Europe, where football reached its highest level, was the ultimate dream for any ambitious player. The prestige, the competition, and the opportunity to prove themselves on the grandest stage¡ªthese were things no South American talent could easily ignore.


    Manchester City?


    It didn''t matter. The gateway to Europe was open, and Richard held the key¡ªa luxurious one at that.


    The deal was sealed. As Richard watched the sunrise, a satisfied smile crossed his face.


    ''Inter, Roma¡­ you should have called sooner.''


    Finally, Manchester City had their perfect right-back and left-back.


    Now, it was time to find the forwards.


    Rivaldo.


    Mogi Mirim Esporte Clube, more commonly referred to as Mogi Mirim, is a Brazilian football club based in Mogi Mirim, S?o Paulo. It competes in the Campeonato Paulista Segunda Divis?o, the fifth tier of the S?o Paulo state football league.


    Palmeiras was also in the race for Rivaldo, submitting a ¡ê2 million bid. However, Richard immediately outbid them with a ¡ê2.5 million offer, forcing Mogi Mirim to reject Palmeiras'' bid.


    If Palmeiras wanted to stay in contention, they would have had to increase their offer just to secure negotiations with Rivaldo¡ªsomething they were unwilling to do. As a result, Richard was the only one with the right to discuss terms with the player.


    When Richard met Rivaldo in person, the Brazilian remained silent, only skimming through the contract again and again, as if he couldn''t believe the amount he was being offered.


    "Mom, come take a look at this!" he finally said, turning to his mother, who had been by his side all this time, raising him alone after his father died in a car accident.


    Richard, however, couldn''t utter a single word as he observed Rivaldo. This was the reality of a harsh life. Even at a glance, the scars of his past were evident. His lean frame, slightly bowed legs, and hollow cheeks told the story of the poverty he had endured as a child¡ªthe malnourishment that had shaped both his body and his resilience.


    "But... there''s also Corinthians," Rivaldo said, scratching his head. He wasn''t trying to drive up his value¡ªhe was simply torn between the choices in front of him.


    Richard met his gaze. "Do you want to stay in Brazil instead of going to Europe? In Europe, you can become an even better player. And don''t worry, you won''t be the only Brazilian I''m bringing in."


    "Really?" Rivaldo asked, uncertainty still lingering in his voice.


    Richard nodded. "I promise you. And I also promise you playing time¡ªyou''ll be able to play your heart out at my club. Mark my words."


    Rivaldo looked at his mother first, and when he saw her nod, he turned back to Richard and nodded as well. "I''ll join you."


    With that, the deal was sealed for ¡ê2.5 million, and Rivaldo was set to spearhead City''s attack.

 Chapter 75 - 75: Back to England

    Cruzeiro do Sul Airport


    Richard, who had arrived at the airport ahead of schedule, received unexpected news¡ªAdam Lewis, the man who had helped him navigate his legal battles with the FA and the Premier League, happened to be in the same city for work.


    Seizing the opportunity, the two arranged to meet.


    As they sat down in a quiet corner of the airport lounge, Richard wasted no time in sharing his bold vision.


    "I''m planning to make Manchester City the first club in England to field four non-EU players in the starting lineup," he declared confidently.


    Lewis nearly choked on his coffee. "Wait, wait, wait¡­ when you say ''non-EU,'' do you mean actual non-European Union players?"


    Richard frowned. "What do you mean?"


    Lewis was at a loss for words. He took a deep breath before clarifying. "I think our definition of ''non-EU'' is different. You do know that European clubs are only allowed to field three foreign players, right?"


    "...yes, and...?"


    "First, Players from outside the Europe such as South Americans, Africans, or Asians were considered foreign because they needed work permits to play in European leagues. If they didn''t meet the criteria, they wouldn''t get approved.


    "Second, European players themselves were sometimes treated as foreigners in certain leagues, especially in England, where the football culture strongly favored homegrown talent. This rule applied to all players without British passports. So, you could say we misunderstood each other. For me, being accustomed to UK law, the term ''foreign player'' essentially became synonymous with ''non-EU player."


    "Third, you forgot the working permits!"


    "You mean I still can''t register all the players I just signed?" Richard slapped his forehead as he grasped the crux of the issue.


    "Unless they have European ancestry, then no, you can''t," Lewis replied. "Well..." He paused for a moment before continuing. "If they meet the 75% national team rule, everything should be easier. Give me the names of the players you''ve signed."


    Richard rubbed his temples before handing over the list: Roberto Carlos, Cafu, Rivaldo.


    Lewis scanned the names and shook his head. "Roberto Carlos earned his first cap in 1992. He''s consistent, but he''s still breaking into the national team. Cafu has more experience, but he''s not an automatic starter yet. As for Rivaldo, his first cap for Brazil was in 1993, but it was only in a friendly match, and he hasn''t been called up since. You have a higher chance with Roberto Carlos and Cafu, but Rivaldo? Forget it."


    The Home Office required non-EU players to have played at least 75% of their national team''s competitive matches over the last two years to qualify for a work permit.


    Richard fell silent for a moment before asking, "Is there no other way?"


    Lewis thought for a moment. "I''ve lost a case like this before. You could appeal to a special panel that assesses whether the player is of exceptional talent and would improve English football. But you''d need detailed statistical data comparing them with established stars, along with scouting reports, market comparisons, and expert testimonies to convince the panel."


    Richard finally sighed in relief. "Would City being in the third tier help? We could argue that their arrival would increase the lower league''s global appeal."


    Lewis rubbed his chin. "That''s an interesting angle. You could argue that they aren''t taking jobs from British players but are instead elevating the club to a higher level. If done right, it might just work. But for Rivaldo, who hasn''t earned any caps for the national team yet, it will be difficult."


    "What do you suggest?" Richard asked.


    "Loaning him to a club in a more lenient European league, like Belgium or Portugal, until he become eligible. That would allow them to gain international caps, increasing their chances of passing the 75% rule later."


    Richard folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. His plan had brought him to Cruzeiro this time to recruit Ronaldo. "What about this guy?" he asked, handing over the information on Ronaldo Lu¨ªs Naz¨¢rio de Lima.


    Lewis skimmed the details before shaking his head. "A rising star, yes, but not yet a full international."


    This meant that only Roberto Carlos and Cafu passed the criteria. But with Ronaldo''s skill, surely the Brazil national team wouldn''t miss out on such talent, right?


    ''I think Brazil won the World Cup this year, right? Did Ronaldo play or not? Ah, when did he debut?'' Richard scratched his head, realizing he''d forgotten the exact year.


    Ronaldo was undoubtedly a future star for the national team, but the problem was that he was still only 17.


    If he invested in him now but the youngster didn''t get enough playing time, there was a real risk that his passport application would be rejected, making all the effort a waste.


    But if he let this opportunity slip away to PSV first...


    "So be it then!" Richard declared with finality, rising abruptly from his seat. Adam Lewis, still engrossed in the documents on the Brazilian players that his client had just signed, looked up in confusion.


    "Help me draft the appeal, will you? I''ll put you in touch with City''s legal team. Gordon Barry is the barrister, and Frank Shepherd is the solicitor."


    Lewis let out a sigh, rubbing his temples. "Alright... but just to be clear, which players are you submitting for registration this season?"


    "Roberto Carlos, Cafu, and Ronaldo," Richard said, handing over the list.


    Lewis raised an eyebrow. "Ronaldo? Are you sure he actually wants to play for City?" he asked, quickly skimming through the paperwork before raising his head. "Did PSV make an offer too?"


    "How many days until the World Cup begins?" Richard asked.


    "Three weeks, I think?" Lewis replied after a quick thought.


    "Then I still have time," Richard muttered to himself before grabbing his coat. "Alright, I need to get to Mineir?o now."


    PSV had agreed to sign Ronaldo before the 1994 World Cup, but the transfer hadn''t been officially completed¡ªlikely because they wanted to assess his performance first.


    This led him to believe that this year''s World Cup would be Ronaldo''s debut in the tournament for the Brazilian national team.


    PSV had bid ¡ê5.48 million for Ronaldo, but Richard immediately countered with a direct ¡ê6 million offer.


    This instantly shifted the stance of Cruzeiro''s board, who had been strongly favoring Ronaldo''s move to the Netherlands, to a more neutral position.


    A week before the World Cup, the PSV board was stunned to receive a fax¡ªan unexpected ¡ê6 million bid for Ronaldo!


    Fuming, PSV''s representatives wasted no time in contacting Cruzeiro.


    "This is outrageous!" a PSV director snapped over the phone. "We had a verbal agreement. How can you even consider another offer?"


    Cruzeiro''s president sighed, trying to maintain a diplomatic tone. "If we had an agreement, then why didn''t you finalize the deal? We need funds too¡ªto secure a replacement for Ronaldo."


    The PSV board exchanged uneasy glances. They knew they couldn''t afford to lose such a generational talent.


    "Alright," the PSV director finally said, taking a deep breath. "What will it take to honor our deal after the World Cup?"


    "If you can match or improve upon the new offer, the deal is yours," Cruzeiro responded.


    "And what exactly do you mean by ''improve''?"


    "Hmm¡­ let''s say ¡ê6 million."


    If PSV could match the offer, the deal was theirs. As for Manchester City? They could take a long swim in the ocean for all they cared! Selling to a top-tier club was always the preferred choice¡ªassuming, of course, they could cough up the cash.


    The PSV director''s face drained of color. They had already stretched their budget, having spent ¡ê3 million on Vampeta and ¡ê2.5 million on Luc Nilis. Now, finding an extra half a million to compete with City seemed almost impossible.


    Now their only hope was to convince Ronaldo himself.


    Ronaldo, of course, leaned toward a move to the Netherlands, where they played in the top tier. But as Lewis said, "You''ve lost your mind!" when he heard the salary Richard was offering¡ªhe nearly choked.


    Ronaldo nearly dropped the contract.


    ¡ê3,000 per week?!


    PSV was already bending over backward, offering him ¡ê2,307 per week¡ªa jaw-dropping ¡ê120,000 per year for a 17-year-old.


    And now, this madman was just casually sliding over a deal worth ¡ê156,000 per year for six years. And that wasn''t even counting the bonuses and incentives... At this rate, he''d be richer than the wealthiest loan shark in his entire neighborhood!


    This was a million-pound contract!


    Third tier? It didn''t matter anymore. In fact, even if he spent most of his time on the bench, he was willing. After all, he was still only 17 this year, and by the time his contract ended, he''d still be just 23. More importantly, he believed in his skill!


    Richard only smiled at his reaction.


    As you know, during this transitional period of globalization and commercialization in football¡ªwhen the market had yet to fully recognize the value of star players, and even players themselves were unaware of their true earning potential¡ªRichard knew that the only way to lure talent to a third-tier club like Manchester City was by offering higher wages.


    A starting wage of ¡ê2,000¨C¡ê3,000 per week¡ªwhat did this signify? It would cost the club over ¡ê100,000 per year, a staggering sum for a club in City''s position. But more than just money, it was a statement¡ªa guarantee to the players.


    "We''re paying you well, so you will play. If you come here, you won''t be warming the bench."


    In 1994, such wages were almost unheard of. Before the Bosman Ruling, how much did one of England''s top stars, Gary Lineker, earn per week?


    ¡ê5,000.


    Even after the Bosman ruling, a player like David Beckham¡ªwho had massive appeal both on and off the pitch¡ªhow much was he earning at Manchester United?


    Less than ¡ê4,000 per week.


    If even the biggest names were earning such modest sums, how low were the wages of ordinary players¡ªespecially those yet to prove themselves in Europe?


    Many unpolished talents likely wouldn''t even earn ¡ê100 per week at their current clubs. Normally, they would need to establish themselves in Europe for at least a season or two¡ªessentially wasting valuable time¡ªbefore earning a substantial contract.


    But what if Richard could offer them that opportunity now?


    A deal so enticing, so difficult to refuse, that it would change their minds overnight.


    Put simply, for these players, financial security was the ultimate incentive. Of course, if news of his spending spree got out, critics would surely condemn him for his reckless approach. But who cared?


    Some might scoff at him now, but as football hurtled toward a new era of commercialization¡ªespecially with the Premier League leading the charge¡ªthe biggest winners would be him and his club. He wasn''t here to pinch pennies. He was here to change the game.


    Financial fair play?


    Hah!


    Club owners could inject money directly into transfers and wages without limits. This is why the 1990s became an era of transfer fee inflation, with big spenders emerging¡ªlike Jack Walker at Blackburn Rovers, Silvio Berlusconi at AC Milan, and Ken Bates at Chelsea.


    With that, Richard''s business in South America was done.


    Cafu, Roberto Carlos, and Ronaldo¡ªhe would push hard for their work permits to ensure they could start playing right away.


    As for Rivaldo, he planned to loan him out first, giving him time to build up his physical strength before eventually bringing him into City''s squad.


    Upon arriving in England, Richard wasted no time getting to work.


    The first thing he needed was cash¡ªhis bank account was glaringly at zero!


    So, he made a call and asked whoever wanted to move to a bigger club or anyone who already had an offer on the table.


    First up was Andy Cole. Having proven himself as a talented young goalscorer with Bristol City, he quickly became one of the hottest prospects in England, with his name frequently linked to Premier League clubs.


    Newcastle United, Manchester United, Blackburn Rovers, Leeds United, and Chelsea were all vying for his signature. In the end, Newcastle secured his services for ¡ê1.75 million.


    Richard immediately made a last-minute attempt to activate his 30% third-party ownership clause in Cole''s contract, which meant he would receive ¡ê525,000 from the transfer.


    Second was Les Ferdinand, and once again, Newcastle United proved their ambition to compete at the highest level next season.


    ¡ê6 million!!!


    With Richard holding a third-party ownership clause from Ferdinand''s move to QPR, he was set to receive ¡ê600,000 from the transfer.


    Third was securing contract extensions for several key players: Matt Le Tissier at Southampton, Tony Cascarino at Aston Villa, Teddy Sheringham at Tottenham Hotspur, Ian Wright at Arsenal, Lee Sharpe at Manchester United, Alan Shearer at Blackburn Rovers.


    All of this earned him around ¡ê75,000 in agent bonuses, which meant that from player transfers alone in a single window, he had already made ¡ê1.2 million!


    You can imagine just how ludicrously profitable the agent business could be.


    After every negotiation, there was one important thing Richard always made sure to tell his players.


    He would close the folder and say, "You know, this is probably my last year as your agent, which means you''ll need to start thinking about finding someone else to represent you."


    It wasn''t an easy conversation, but it was a necessary one. Football was a fast-moving business, and he knew his own career trajectory wouldn''t keep him in player management forever.


    Some of his clients took it well, already eyeing top-tier agencies. Others hesitated, uncomfortable with the idea of change.


    Like Ian Wright, Alan Shearer, and Andy Cole¡ªplayers who were especially close to him¡ªall of them had the same question:


    "So¡­ is this the end?"


    Richard then smacked the back of their heads.


    "What do you mean ''the end''?! I''m not dying, you idiots!"


    They laughed, but the thought still lingered¡ªespecially for Ian Wright, whom Richard had personally fetched from prison when he first wanted to sign him.


    "You''re really leaving the agent game?" Ian Wright asked.


    Richard shrugged. "What can I do? I don''t want any trouble. Hell, even my brother Harry¡ªI''ve made sure he stays far away from this business."


    Wright went silent for a moment, then casually dropped a bomb. "What if I joined City?"


    Richard stared at him. Then, without hesitation¡ª"Fuck off! How dare you make fun of me!"


    Move to City? Over Arsenal?!


    What kind of sick joke was this? sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Wright burst out laughing. "Relax, relax¡ªI''m kidding!"


    Richard scowled but couldn''t help chuckling. After some more teasing and reminiscing about their years as player and agent, he finally pulled Wright into a warm hug.


    "Take care of yourself, you idiot. And if you ever find yourself in trouble with the police again¡­" He smirked. "Just remember, I''m only one phone call away."


    And just like that, Richard closed the chapter and formally surrendered his agent license once and for all.


    ---


    Volume 3 ''Taking Over'' is now complete, and Volume 4, ''Rebuilding,'' will be starting soon.


    Stay tuned for what''s coming next!

 Chapter 76 - 76: First Candidate

    Before the annual grand meeting began, Richard had already met with John Maddock, the club''s general manager.


    "How''s the transfer business going?" Richard asked.


    "Just as instructed," John replied. "We''ve accepted requests and let go of the players who had offers on the table."


    Kinkladze moved to Ajax for around ¡ê5M.


    Nicky Summerbee moved to Sunderland for ¡ê100,000.


    Club captain Kit Symons also departed for Fulham in a ¡ê400,000 deal.


    Ray Kelly, John Burridge, David Rocastle, Mike Sheron, and Steve McMahon also moved, following their transfer requests, adding another ¡ê500,000 to the club''s account.


    Uwe Rosler had already left the club on a free transfer to Kaiserslautern.


    Ian Brightwell decided to follow Rosler''s lead, choosing not to renew his contract and moving to Coventry City.


    "Is that all?" Richard asked.


    "Yes, currently. Also," John then presented a document. "This is the list of players the current manager wants for next season."


    Richard glanced at the paper and looked up at John Maddock in shock. "You''re kidding me, right?"


    Danny Tiatto from Baden, Ian Bishop from AFC Bournemouth, Danny Allsop from Port Melbourne Sharks.


    Sighing, Richard closed the folder and decided to push forward with his plan. "Let''s move on to the coaching staff. Give me all their r¨¦sum¨¦s."


    ''Ah, here it comes,'' John thought to himself before handing over the documents Richard had requested earlier.


    The resumes were for five key people¡ªAlan Ball and Joe Royle, of course, the first two¡ªbut Richard''s focus was on the other three first. One was a middle-aged man with a mustache, the other a relatively young and handsome man.


    "The mustached guy is our tactical coach, Robbie McGinn. He''s been with the team for eight years. As you can see, he has a solid track record. Every time the manager changed, he stayed on with the new one." John introduced.


    "Eight years? So, he was here when City dropped out twice in a row?"


    "..."


    "And he hasn''t resigned yet? What is this, loyalty? Bullshit."


    "..."


    Richard suddenly squinted. "Hey, tell me something¡ªwhen City first dropped to the First Division, why didn''t Lee sack Ball? Friendship? Because if that''s the case, that''s messed up."


    John smiled bitterly. "No, it wasn''t that. It was because of the termination fees."


    Richard was taken aback. "Are they really that severe?"


    John nodded grimly. "Huge ones. And that''s just for the current manager. All his coaching staff too. Their termination clauses are ridiculously steep."


    "Wait, all of them? None left behind?"


    "To ensure City entered a new era, the ex-chairman, Lee, allowed Manager Ball to bring his own team."


    Richard was speechless. Indeed, this is how it has always been, but to clear everything out...


    In most cases, a new manager might want to bring in their own staff, which could lead to the firing or reassignment of the current coaching team. However, it wasn''t always the case that the entire staff would be let go when a manager was fired.


    Sometimes, assistant coaches or other staff members stayed on, especially if the club wanted continuity or if the new manager was open to working with them.


    The new manager also needed to rely on the advice of the existing coaches. The players knew that, so they often aligned themselves accordingly¡ªsometimes out of strategy, sometimes just to stay in someone''s good graces.


    "...how much money can we use now?"


    "Taking into account the ¡ê30 million loan, the most recent transfer activity, operational costs, relegation penalty, stadium expenses, and the debt due this quarter, we''ll probably have about ¡ê6 million to use."


    Richard frowned upon hearing this. Why does this seem so strange?


    Shouldn''t we have more than ¡ê6 million, considering the additional funds from the recent departures? Unless...


    He gasped, ''Don''t tell me the ¡ê30 million loan is already gone?! Fuck!!!''


    Even though restrictions on excessive spending beyond club revenue had not yet been introduced, there were still practical financial constraints that clubs had to consider.


    The most important factors were the rules about financial stability to prevent clubs from collapsing and the management of wage budgets, which could be a limiting factor.


    The Board and Owners'' Decision Board members had to approve spending, and many clubs were cautious about overspending, which could lead to financial trouble or even bankruptcy. However, this did not apply to the current Richard.


    "Give me the number¡ªhow much to fire the entire coaching staff?" Richard said finally.


    John''s face scrunched up before he cautiously answered, "It''s nearly a million."


    Richard went silent for a moment before his eyes widened. "Assholes! These guys are just milking their contracts!"


    The same complaint occurred, but this time in a different setting.


    Richard spent a total of ¡ê13.5 million on South American players without informing Allan Ball, the current manager, halting all transfer activity and using the club''s funds for personal transfers, which would have definitely caused an uproar...''if City were in the Premier League,''


    In the second division?


    Who cares?


    Only the firms, ultras, or die-hard supporters would.


    Alan Ball was the manager, Joe Royle served as the head coach, Ray Donard was the first-team coach, Robbie McGinn was the tactical coach, and Allensky was the physical coach.


    They decided to hold their own meeting with the scouting department, led by Peter Pettigrew, who replaced Ken Barnes as the previous chief scout.


    "Are you just going to sit back and let this happen, manager?" Pettigrew asked sharply.


    "What are you talking about?" Ball replied flatly.


    "Isn''t it obvious, coach? The new owner clearly doesn''t see us in a good light. Why else would he criticize us the moment we first meet? Also, the recent transfer..." Donard chimed in before stopping.


    Pettigrew paused for a moment, thinking it over. "Then it''s like he''s saying, ''If you don''t like it, hand in your resignation."


    Ball responded with a sly grin and decided to give them a hint. "If we voluntarily resign, there''s no termination fee to pay. It''s so obvious. Right?"


    Everyone seemed to get enlightened. "Oh, so we just wait for him to sack us? That way we get the compensation?"


    Hearing this, Ball nodded and shook his head. "No matter what, if he really wants us to leave, then he needs to pay. Does he really dare mess with the termination clause in our contract? I want to make sure we''ve got something on him¡ªor at least make him think twice before sacking us."


    "So, that''s how it is!" Everyone nodded in agreement.


    "The problem now is..." Ball turned to the chief scout, Pettigrew. "What''s the plan? The termination fees for the scouting department aren''t that high, right?"


    Pettigrew smirked, his expression unreadable. "What''s there to be afraid of?"


    ''This mouse,'' Alan Ball cursed under his breath. It seemed like he already had a plan brewing.


    "The captain might stay neutral, but don''t forget, I..." He pointed to himself. "I''m the one in control of most of the players. Remember that."


    It took a moment for Ball to realize¡ªalmost all the players in the first team had been hand-picked by this "mouse."


    "What are you saying? You want us to stir up a mutiny?"


    "Not a mutiny. The players are individuals. They can push for changes to tactics and training on their own. But they''ll follow my lead."


    "You''re pushing it too far. There''s no need for that. Let''s¡ª"


    "What are you saying? If we''re safe in our positions, then nothing''s going to happen. What matters is we still hold the power. That''s the key."


    "Hmm, true."


    Everyone nodded, clearly convinced.


    "Alright, that''s enough for now. I''ve made my position clear. Are you both with me?"


    "Of course, I''m in."


    "I''m in too."


    "Count me in."


    "Yeah, same here."


    To sum up, the biggest challenge at the current Manchester City isn''t the rebuild or anything else, but how to deal with the internal factions.


    These toxic environments can cripple even the wealthiest, most star-studded, most prestigious, and most elite clubs instantly.


    And the worst part? You don''t even realize it.


    This parasitic culture creeps in slowly, piece by piece, and by the time you notice, it''s already too late.


    It''s all about the foundation.


    What starts as a small crack can quickly grow, sinking the ship to the bottom of the sea.


    Where egos clash and ambition fades, even the most talented players lose their way. Division, mistrust, and frustration breed mediocrity.


    It doesn''t matter how much money is in the bank; individual brilliance becomes nothing more than a flickering flame in the darkness.


    So right now, the top priority is figuring out how to eliminate these issues and establish full control over the players, the squad, and everyone else within the club.


    "We need a new manager," Richard suddenly said, looking toward John Maddock in front of him. "A replacement for Alan Ball next season." S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Are you willing to pay the severance, ¡ê1 million?"


    "Let''s discuss that later. For now, the manager first."


    "Do you have any candidates?"


    "I have two in mind. Come with me to meet them."


    Richard''s Porsche roared as they headed toward London Heathrow Airport.


    Their destination?


    France, Monaco.


    Monaco, a principality blessed with picturesque scenery and a temperate climate along the Mediterranean, becomes a bustling tourist destination during the summer months.


    Richard landed at Monaco''s Nice C?te d''Azur Airport with John in the late afternoon, the warm Mediterranean air greeting him as he stepped off the plane.


    He wasted no time, his mind focused on the task at hand. After quickly arranging a taxi, he was soon on his way to a hotel located near Stade Louis II, the iconic home of AS Monaco.


    The next morning, after a quick and discreet breakfast in his room, Richard left the hotel dressed in casual sports attire, with his hands tucked in his pockets and sunglasses perched on his nose, with John by his side. They walked to a quiet caf¨¦ tucked away on a corner of the street.


    "Coffee first?" John asked as Richard pushed open the door.


    Richard glanced back. "Yeah, and the manager candidate is already here."


    In a corner booth, a refined gentleman nearing his fifties stares dreamily out the window, not forgetting to sip his espresso.


    Richard approaches, removing his sunglasses to reveal a warm, sunny smile. "Mr. Wenger?" he greeted, extending his hand.


    The man sitting across from Aldrich is none other than Ars¨¨ne Wenger, the current manager of Monaco. Even though his name wasn''t as globally synonymous with success as it would later become, Richard believed he was the right choice¡ªof course, if he accepted.


    "Mr. Maddox," Wenger greeted with a polite nod, his French accent smooth as ever. "And this is...?"


    "This is City''s current General Manager, John Maddock," Richard said, gesturing toward John, who stood beside him and offered a handshake.


    Wenger looked at Richard and John Madock with a perplexed expression. ''General manager? Why go with that? Isn''t everyone using the term CEO these days?''


    John smiled warmly, extending his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wenger," he said.


    Wenger won the Ligue 1 title in his first season, and established Monaco as one of the top three clubs in French football. They would also win a Coupe de France under his management, and reach the final of the 1992 European Cup Winners Cup final and the semi-finals of the 1994 Champions League.


    Just by this achievement alone, you could already guess.


    "Mr. Maddox, I am so sorry, but I must refuse your invitation," Wenger said in a low voice, emphasizing his decision.


    "Is it because City is playing in the Second Division?" Richard asked, his voice calm but with a hint of curiosity.


    Wenger shook his head. "No, it''s not about that," he replied, his tone thoughtful. "You see, football, for me, is never just about tactics or transfers. It''s about creating a philosophy, a way of thinking that seeps into every corner¡ªfrom the boardroom to the dressing room. This is what creates a lasting foundation. Only then can you truly build something meaningful."


    Richard leaned in slightly, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. "Then we''re on the same page. The current City needs someone who understands that vision, someone who can rebuild the foundation."


    Wenger paused, folding his hands in front of him as he thought for a moment. "Mr. Maddox, what I''m saying is it''s about creating something that will last. It''s a long-term project. A philosophy that will take years to bear fruit."


    Richard was confused by this. "Yes, then I am prepared to support it, provide the resources, and commit to rebuilding."


    Wenger looked at Richard for a moment, skeptically thinking, ''Does he know, or is he pretending not to?"'' But looking at his face, it seemed he genuinely hadn''t caught on.


    With a sigh, Wenger decided to be a little more direct.


    "Mr. Maddox," Wenger began, speaking clearly, "Monaco is a club with incredible potential. The infrastructure is here. The youth system is strong. We have many good players; it''s just that we don''t have the mental strength to win when it matters most. That''s where my focus is now¡ªdeveloping a winning mentality."


    Only then did Richard realize. That''s why he mentioned so much nonsense about philosophy, long-term projects, or whatever it is.


    Simply put, his project at Monaco was already underway, and he didn''t want to abandon it now.

 Chapter 77: Second, Third, Fourth... Sixth

    Chapter 77: Second, Third, Fourth... SixthThere were simply too many r¨¦sum¨¦s piled up on his desk, forcing Richard to sort through them one by one. In the end, based on the future he knew, only six candidates made the cut to be included in the shortlist of top candidates.


    One of them was Ars¨¨ne Wenger.


    What made Richard seriously consider Wenger was the fact that, in the early 2000s, Ligue 1 would be shaken by revelations of bribery and corruption¡ªmost notably involving Marseille, who were found guilty of match-fixing.


    The only thing that made he hesitate was pinpointing exactly when this scandal would unfold. But one thing was certain¡ªbecause of it, Wenger would eventually leave France for Japan.


    And if that was the case, wouldn¡¯t it be better for him to manage City instead of coaching abroad?


    But in the end, Wenger rejected his offer, leaving Richard disappointed.


    The second candidate was Rafa Ben¨ªtez.


    Richard wasted no time and immediately faxed Real Madrid to inquire about his availability. However, the reply he received was exactly what he had expected¡ªBen¨ªtez wanted to stay at Real Madrid. It was a response he had anticipated just by looking at Ben¨ªtez¡¯s r¨¦sum¨¦, leaving him helpless.


    During the 1986¨C87 season, Ben¨ªtez was appointed as the coach of Real Madrid Castilla, where he led the team to two league titles in 1987 and 1989. By 1990, he had secured his third league title with Real Madrid¡¯s youth team.


    Midway through the 1990¨C91 season, he took over from Jos¨¦ Antonio Camacho as the head coach of Real Madrid¡¯s U-19 team. Under his leadership, they won the Spain U-19 Cup in both 1991 and 1993, defeating Barcelona in both finals. In 1993, they achieved the double by also winning the national U-19 league title.


    With his growing list of achievements in Madrid¡¯s youth, Ben¨ªtez¡¯s reputation soared, eventually earning him a position as assistant coach to Vicente del Bosque with the senior team.


    Now, if you were Ben¨ªtez, wouldn¡¯t it make more sense to stay and wait for Del Bosque to step down?


    At least, for Richard, that was the logical choice. With his impressive track record in Madrid¡¯s youth, Ben¨ªtez had a strong chance of succeeding Del Bosque.


    Why leave when the path to the top was already within reach?


    Richard was rejected once again, which truly devastated him.


    The third and fourth candidates, Sven-G?ran Eriksson and Otto Rehhagel, both rejected Richard¡ªa double rejection that left him in despair.


    For Sven-G?ran Eriksson, the answer was obvious. Who in their right mind would leave Italy for England, especially for a second-division club? Moving to an English third-tier side was simply out of the question.


    As for Otto Rehhagel, rumors were swirling that Bayern Munich had set their sights on him. After all, he had transformed Werder Bremen from a small minnow into a German powerhouse, dazzling fans with his high-tempo attacking football and an impenetrable defense. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With both managers turning him down, Richard prayed for the fifth and sixth to succeed.


    The fifth candidate was Marcelo Bielsa, who was currently managing Atlas, a Mexican professional football club based in Guadalajara.


    This time, Richard was confident.


    Who would turn down the chance to coach a European club in favor of staying in North America?


    But reality slap him really hard.


    The most direct way to make contact was through an international phone call. Clubs often had dedicated lines for important communications, making it a straightforward process. First, Richard sent a fax to Atlas FC, formally requesting permission to speak with Bielsa.


    With the lure of money, it was approved quickly, and he followed up with a direct call. But Bielsa¡¯s first question left him speechless.


    "I want full control over the youth system¡ªfrom the structured scouting network to player development, training methods, and infrastructure. Everything must meet my standards. How does that sound?"


    With so many future superstars at stake, how could Richard possibly entrust everything to someone else?


    "I can agree to player development, training methods, and infrastructure," he said firmly. "But when it comes to the scouting network¡ªwhere to focus, who to recruit, player selection criteria, and the scouting checklist¡ªI¡¯m very sorry, Mr. Bielsa, but I cannot agree to that."


    "Then I¡¯m sorry," Bielsa replied. "I cannot accept your offer."


    BOOM!


    Five rejections in a row. Just like that.


    In the end, Richard had no choice but to pin all his hopes on the sixth candidate.


    Martin O¡¯Neill.


    After a knee injury forced his retirement in 1985, he transitioned into management on a part-time basis at Southern League side Grantham, guiding them to a third-place finish in the 1987/88 season.


    He also spotted winger Gary Crosby playing park football and brought him into the team, later selling him to Nottingham Forest for ¡ê15,000 plus add-ons.


    He resigned from Grantham at the end of the following season to take the managerial job at Shepshed Charterhouse, also in the Southern League. However, his time there was less than fulfilling, and after four months, he stepped down to focus on his insurance business.


    Later, he unexpectedly found himself at Wycombe Wanderers, despite never having applied for the job. This opportunity came thanks to the support of two Wycombe directors, after he took the risk of attending an interview following their review of his CV.


    Under his management, he led Wycombe to a runner-up finish in the Conference League Cup, secured the club¡¯s first-ever promotion to the Football League (EFL), and achieved promotions, taking them up to the Second Division.


    Not dazzling, but what Richard saw in O¡¯Neill wasn¡¯t tactical brilliance or intense training methods designed to develop players. In fact, O¡¯Neill wasn¡¯t particularly known for those aspects and could even be considered lacking in them.


    What truly set him apart was that he didn¡¯t make excessive demands and was willing to work with the players already available.


    The fact that he bought Roberto Carlos, Cafu, Ronaldo, and Rivaldo to England without consulting his current manager¡ªthat alone was a major red flag.


    After that, rather than weekly tactical training or intense physical drills, O¡¯Neill was best known for his emphasis on matchday performance and player empowerment. Discipline, structured internal rules, encouragement over criticism.


    In other words, he was the ultimate Motivator or Man-Manager, perfectly suited for the young Brazilian.


    Wycombe had already been notified, and O¡¯Neill showed a positive reaction, expressing his willingness to meet. After a brief phone conversation, both agreed to set up a meeting.


    "Mr. O¡¯Neill, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you," Richard greeted as he immediately took a seat across from him.


    "Hello, you must be Mr. Maddox. And you must be the current General Manager, Mr. Maddock," O¡¯Neill replied, shaking their hands before settling into his chair.


    "If you¡¯ve recognized both of us, it seems you¡¯ve already done your research, Mr. O¡¯Neill," Richard said with a knowing smile.


    "Haha, of course! Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s a habit to ensure I don¡¯t make a wrong career choice," O¡¯Neill chuckled.


    Richard gave him a thumbs-up. "Fair enough," he said. "Now, let¡¯s get to the point, Mr. O¡¯Neill." His tone shifted to a more serious one. "We¡¯d like to invite you to take charge of Manchester City for our rebuilding plan. Even though you could say the club¡¯s condition is perilous, this actually presents a unique advantage¡ªit makes the project more manageable."


    O¡¯Neill raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "I heard Manchester City still has a manager? Are you suggesting a setup with dual managers?"


    "Of course not," Richard immediately denied, shaking his head. "Let me be honest with you, Mr. O¡¯Neill. With the club in this position, we have the chance to build from scratch¡ªliterally from scratch. ZERO! You understand what I mean, right?"


    O¡¯Neill was momentarily taken aback but soon realized that accepting the offer would mean the current manager¡¯s immediate dismissal. He composed himself instantly, unfazed by the intricacies of the situation. Managers come and go¡ªit was just part of football.


    What mattered to him were the tangible pros and cons. "I understand what you¡¯re saying," he said, leaning forward, his expression serious. "But the real question is, what kind of support will I have if I take on this so-called rebuild?"


    Richard nodded. "First, we¡¯re willing to double your salary with bonuses tied to your contract," Richard began. "The goal for next season is promotion to the First Division. If we achieve that, I¡¯ll offer a ¡ê50,000 bonus to the entire team and coaching staff."


    Hearing that, John¡¯s mouth twitched while O¡¯Neill was indeed tempted.


    "Second, you can bring in your own coaching team," Richard continued. "We won¡¯t interfere with your staff choices. You will have full control over who you bring in, whether it¡¯s assistants, coaches, or analysts. The only thing that matters is results."


    "What about tactics, player selection, and the starting lineup?" O¡¯Neill asked.


    Richard raised one finger, his expression serious. "I only ask one thing," he said, lowering his tone to emphasize the weight of his words. "I want Manchester City to be built on the philosophy of attacking football."


    The intensity in his voice matched the passion in his eyes. "We want to entertain, to dominate the game, and to make an impact. We¡¯ll be fearless, we¡¯ll play with pace, and we¡¯ll make sure our fans enjoy every moment."


    Come on, with Roberto Carlos and Cafu bombing down the wings and Ronaldo wrecking defenses, they¡¯ll be unstoppable this season.


    "..."


    However, of course, this was only known to Richard alone. As for O¡¯Neill and John, they kept their mouths shut.


    Who wouldn¡¯t want their club to play attacking football?


    Every club dreams of playing entertaining football, but is it really that simple?


    Richard¡¯s words hung in the air, and the atmosphere grew heavier. Everyone present couldn¡¯t help but feel the weight of the situation.


    Richard didn¡¯t know this, so he simply leaned back. "Mr. O¡¯Neill, to be honest with you, on my desk, there are dozens of resumes waiting for me to choose from. But out of all of them, do you know why I chose you?"


    Curious, O¡¯Neill nodded. "Why?"


    "Do you know what they called you at Wycombe?" Richard asked with a sly grin.


    O¡¯Neill was taken aback. "What? No! Wait, is there something like that? How am I just hearing about this?"


    "Haha, that just means you¡¯re too focused on your team, and that¡¯s a good thing," Richard replied with a smile. "They called you the ¡¯Matchday Manager.¡¯ They said Martin O¡¯Neill is known for prioritizing the team¡¯s performance on matchday and less focused on the details during the week."


    Naturally, all of this was nonsense from Richard himself. However, in the future, when Martin O¡¯Neill took charge of Leicester and Celtic, he was indeed known for his ability to raise morale and squeeze the best out of his players


    The Brazilian lads are still young. They need to be polished, not pushed too hard physically, especially at this stage, particularly Ronaldo. Thinking about his propensity for injuries, Richard frowned before relaxing again.


    "Haha, no way." O¡¯Neill chuckled, assuming Richard was joking.


    He dismissed it with a shake of his head before shifting to a more pressing matter. "Mr. Maddox, what about transfers?" O¡¯Neill asked, his tone turning serious.


    "Hmm..." Richard paused in contemplation for a moment before shaking his head. "Mr. O¡¯Neill, regarding transfers, Manchester City prefers a collaboration between myself, you as the manager, and other relevant parties."


    O¡¯Neill frowned. "You? What do you mean by ¡¯you¡¯re also involved¡¯? Does that mean I have no say in transfer decisions?"


    "No, no, no, you misunderstood me," Richard quickly clarified. "Collaboration means we work together. Let¡¯s say you want Player A; you¡¯ll tell us you want him, and we¡¯ll get him for you. Or you can give us a list, and we¡¯ll handle it. However, there are times when the management team may also be involved and decide that another player is a better fit. Of course, you¡¯ll always be consulted before any decisions are made. That¡¯s what I mean by collaboration."


    O¡¯Neill nodded before seeking confirmation. "Everything inside the dressing room¡ªI don¡¯t want any interference in how I manage the players. Is that clear?"


    "Of course."


    "Then, Mr. Maddox, one last request before I accept the job."


    Richard straightened up, leaning in. "Of course, go ahead."


    O¡¯Neill pulled a pen from his pocket, scribbled something on a piece of paper, and handed it to Richard. "I want to bring them with me to City."


    Assistant John Robertson


    Coach Steve Walford


    Youth and Reserves coach Willie McStay


    Goalkeeping Coach Terry Gennoe


    Richard unfolded the paper and glanced at it. "Consider it done, Mr. O¡¯Neill." He pushed his chair back, stood up, and extended his hand. "Welcome to Manchester City."


    O¡¯Neill gave a small, pleased smile and shook his hand firmly. "Good. I think we¡¯re ready to move forward."


    After finalizing matters with O¡¯Neill regarding his managerial role, an unexpected situation arose at White Hart Lane, the home of Tottenham Hotspur.


    Specifically, it involved Sol Campbell.


    During the previous season, an incident occurred at Pride Park Stadium, home of Derby County. Sol Campbell was falsely accused of breaking a steward¡¯s arm during a scuffle. He refused to admit guilt and also declined to follow Tottenham¡¯s lawyer¡¯s advice to have the case bound over.


    (Bound over which would mean he wouldn¡¯t be convicted but would effectively have admitted some level of wrongdoing).


    As a result, the club instructed him to handle his own legal defense for the case. This decision strained his relationship with both the manager and the club, as he felt that Tottenham¡¯s lack of support during the assault case left him feeling disillusioned.


    This is when Campbell made an unexpected reach out to Richard, which caught him off guard.


    After finishing his discussion with O¡¯Neill, Richard received a call from Fay, the one from Paddy Power.


    With a touch of helplessness in his voice, Fay said, "He¡¯s here, asking to meet you. With the World Cup coming up, he thought you might be here, so he¡¯s waiting for you."


    Surprised, Richard asked Fay to pass the phone to Campbell.


    The verbal agreement was made quickly, with the condition that Richard would help Campbell with his assault case.


    "Understood, I¡¯ll help you," Richard said. "But what about the salary, bonuses, or incentives? Any additional offers?"


    Richard offered Campbell ¡ê1,500 per week, along with incentives for clean sheets, goals, and a bonus if the club were promoted.


    Campbell agreed instantly, which made Richard pause briefly before hesitantly asking, "Actually, you want to use this case to get out of Tottenham, don¡¯t you?"


    "..."


    Seeing Campbell¡¯s silence, Richard shrugged. "Fine, after this, I¡¯ll make a bid for Tottenham. Can I now say, welcome to Manchester City?"


    "...thank you," Campbell responded shortly.


    Sighing, Richard thought, ¡¯No wonder his previous managers said it was so difficult to get along with him.¡¯


    After the phone call ended, it was passed back to Fay.


    The first thing Richard heard was, "Hey, are you done? What about me? Yesterday you were absent¡ªwill you miss the World Cup again?"


    Richard paused for a moment before realizing he¡¯d almost forgotten. The fastest and easiest way to make money. "Put a bet on Bulgaria for ¡ê100,000. Accumulate it until the group stage is over, then place it on Brazil to win. Just use the accumulated money."


    "Bulgaria? Why? You know they¡¯re with Argentina, Greece, and Nigeria. Why not bet on Nigeria like you did with the previous Cameroon bet?"


    "Let¡¯s just say, in this World Cup, Bulgaria has received their blessing."


    "Haha, what are you saying?"


    Richard smiled, but he didn¡¯t feel the need to explain. He ended the call, nearly shouting in excitement¡ªbut then caught himself, realizing John was sitting next to him. He held back, but the happiness was clear on his face.


    Finally, it was happening. He had secured a center-back to form the backbone for City next season, and what made it even better was that he was a homegrown talent.


    The future was looking bright for Manchester City.


    After returning from Buckinghamshire to deal with the appointment of O¡¯Neill, Richard quickened his step to address the pressing issues of the annual grand meeting.


    Termination fees were high for the coaching staff, but it was common practice for a new manager¡ªor in this case, the aggressive owner¡ªto overhaul the coaching staff, even at significant cost. Of course, if there were no termination fees, it would be even better.


    "...If you decide to fire him, I¡¯ll bite the bullet and deal with it," John Maddock said, glancing at Richard to gauge his reaction.


    The other party drummed his fingers on the table and said, "This won¡¯t be easy to clean up¡ªnot just because of the termination fees." Then, he looked toward Miss Heysen. "Did something happen while John and I were away?"


    Miss Heysen paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts before finally saying, "It feels like there are more people lingering around the training ground lately. Since you put a halt to all transfer activity, they¡¯ve been hanging around the field every day during practice day."


    John¡¯s brow instinctively furrowed. ¡¯What a mess¡¯. He turned to Richard. "I think we need clear guidelines for training¡ªwho¡¯s allowed to be there and who isn¡¯t. We don¡¯t want unnecessary distractions."


    Richard didn¡¯t respond right away. He tapped his fingers on the table, deep in thought, before finally lifting his head to meet their eyes. "It¡¯s just a feeling... but things like this tend to have a certain atmosphere to them."


    John frowned. "What do you mean?"


    Richard didn¡¯t elaborate. Instead, he turned to Miss Heysen, thanked her, and asked her to keep a closer watch on the players rather than the coaching staff or other personnel.


    After Miss Heysen left, Richard immediately turned to face John Maddox and said, "There¡¯s a more pressing issue we need to address before we attend the meeting."


    By veering off-script.


    "A pressing issue?"


    If replacing the entire coaching staff required paying termination fees, Richard would do it without hesitation. But if there was another way? Why not take it?


    "Yes, something far more important. Expand the invitation list¡ªnot just the coaching staff, but also assistant and reserve coaches, the scouting department, physios, and also the academy."


    This wasn¡¯t a request.


    It was a directive.


    "We¡¯ll meet all of them at once. Consider this a chance to get acquainted," Richard continued.


    "That could take some time, though."


    "It doesn¡¯t matter. We still have three days before the meeting." Richard paused, deep in thought.


    John instantly had a bad feeling about this.


    "The most urgent matter¡ªthe rebuilding of the squad¡ªhas to start now," Richard muttered.


    "Oh. That¡¯s standard procedure, isn¡¯t it? A new season means rebuilding the squad. A new manager means a new game plan. And since you¡¯ve already appointed the new manager, that means¡ª"


    "Start drafting a release list of players we don¡¯t need in the first squad. No¡ªall of them."


    Richard dropped the bombshell, and John gasped.


    Manchester City¡¯s internal divisions were becoming more tangled and chaotic¡ªespecially after Richard himself reviewed the first-team squad background data.


    Most of the players had been selected and promoted directly under the new chief scout, Peter Pettigrew.


    Remember the factions issue? What if it had already crept into the first squad?


    If it had been Chief Ken Barnes, Richard might have tolerated it.


    But Pettigrew? Not a chance.


    Leaker, whistleblower, insider, mole, tipster¡ªwhatever you called it, he despised being predictable.


    Just as much as he hated seeing their opponents read the club¡¯s tactics, break down their strategies, and worst of all¡ªwhen the media got wind of it. Especially when they pried into and knew his players¡¯ personal lives¡ªfar more than the club itself.


    The tough calls before Manchester City required major surgery.


    ¡¯Just like Manchester United...huh?¡¯

 Chapter 78: Dismantling The Factions

    Chapter 78: Dismantling The Factions"Draft a release list?" John was shocked.


    The current squad has 23 players right now.


    Goalkeepers: Nicky Weaver, Tony Coton


    Defenders: Lee Crooks, Richard Edghill, Nick Fenton, Richard Jobson, Keith Curle, Tony Vaughan, Gerard Wiekens.


    Midfielders: Jamie Pollock, Michael Brown, Terry Cooke, Neil Heaney, Jeff Whitley, Kevin Horlock, Gary Mason.


    Attackers: Paul Dickov, Lee Bradbury, Michael Branch, Shaun Goater, Chris Greenacre, Mark Robins, Craig Russell.


    ¡¯Especially regarding the club¡¯s finances.¡¯


    "This..." John frowned before offering his advice. "No matter what, Manchester City is still a club that once played in the Premier League. Dropping twice to the second division has only fueled the media¡¯s obsession with writing about us. If you go through with this, I¡¯m afraid the criticism will be relentless¡ªespecially since you¡¯ve just taken charge."


    "I know..." Richard paused, thinking for a moment before responding. "Then just tell them this¡ªthe club¡¯s financial situation cannot sustain the current wage structure. At least half of it needs to be cut."


    "Half?" John couldn¡¯t hide his shock, his disbelief written all over his face. "Half?! Our first-team squad barely has a little over twenty players!"


    Richard clicked his tongue. "What¡¯s the point of having an academy if we¡¯re too scared to lose a few first-team players? Do you even remember where we are? Second division! Second!"


    He let out a breath, turning to the window overlooking the pitch. "This is a preventive measure¡ªbefore we¡¯re forced into salvaging what¡¯s left."


    Rebuilding.


    Overhauling a team and creating a new foundation.


    Every year, ahead of a new season, football clubs take a long, hard look at their prior performance. They begin analyzing the mistakes, the successes, and the overall direction of the team. It¡¯s a time for reflection and decision-making.


    Who will be sold?


    Who will be signed?


    What new tactics will be implemented to give the team the best chance at success?


    These questions are at the forefront as the club strategizes for the next season. When this process involves rethinking and reshaping the entire squad, it¡¯s known as rebuilding.


    And what¡¯s the first step of any rebuild?


    "Are you asking us to draft a release list?!"


    Let¡¯s do a rewind~


    The next three days passed in a blur of preparations, discussions, and final decisions.


    In the meeting room, 15 minutes before the meeting.


    Richard spoke casually as he firmly shook John¡¯s hand. "Hey, we¡¯ll be meeting in small groups like this regularly. I think it¡¯s a good culture to build."


    John gave a small nod before taking a seat. "Is this how you greet people first thing in the morning?"


    Richard shrugged. "Consider it a warm welcome¡ªwe¡¯re already well acquainted anyway."


    This annual grand meeting would be vastly different from those before it.


    In the past, it was a single session attended only by board members, key stakeholders, and a select few who were summoned. This time, however, things had changed. The meeting would be divided into multiple sessions, starting with the coaching staff.


    Before long, the door opened, and a few more figures entered the room¡ªAlan Ball, Joe Royle, Ray Donard, Robbie McGinn, and Allensky. These were the core members of Manchester City¡¯s coaching staff.


    "Good evening, Chairman. A pleasure to meet you."


    After shaking hands with them, Allensky, the physical coach, greeted him cheerfully.


    Like some kind of ¡¯no matter where you are, you always find a way to adapt¡¯ guy¡ªa natural extrovert who can fit in anywhere.


    This was Richard¡¯s first time meeting him¡ªalong with the mustached man beside him, the tactical coach, Robbie McGinn.


    "Nice to meet you both. You¡¯re Allensky, and you¡¯re Robbie McGinn, right? I didn¡¯t expect you to be this young."


    "Haha, well, to stay close to the players, at least one of us has to blend in," Robbie chuckled.


    Richard studied him for a moment before nodding.


    "Alright, everyone, take a seat."


    The first to speak was John, making small talk while Richard simply observed how smoothly he steered the conversation¡ªcompletely different from the usually reserved Maddock he knew. Now, he understood how he had managed to stick around through the club¡¯s ownership changes, from Swales to Lee.


    Soon, the last person arrived¡ªMiss Heysen.


    Richard clapped his hands, drawing everyone¡¯s attention.


    "Ah, perfect timing. Now that everyone¡¯s here, let¡¯s begin the meeting. It¡¯s best we discuss everything together."


    Everyone straightened their backs, especially the coaching staff, who knew this discussion could directly impact their future.


    And the first thing Richard said shocked them to their core.


    He gave the table a quick tap, making sure to catch their attention. "Alright, listen up. Each of you will draft a release list with five players. Understood?"


    A release list, not a transfer or loan list. These two are very different concepts.


    A transfer list draft is created with the goal of selling or loaning out players. For example, a player who isn¡¯t fitting into the team¡¯s tactics but still has value might be placed on the transfer list, so other teams can make offers.


    A release list, on the other hand, consists of players the club is looking to release from their contracts altogether.


    Everyone was shocked. What kind of crazy shit was he planning to do now?


    Was the club¡¯s financial situation really that bad that they had to take such drastic measures?


    "Are you asking us to draft a release list?!"


    "Yes. The club¡¯s financial state cannot sustain the current wage structure. At least half of it needs to be cut."


    "...!"


    Shock flickered in their eyes.


    ¡¯What the fuck?¡¯


    That was probably what everyone was thinking right now.


    "You really want us to draft separate lists?"


    "There¡¯s no need to be surprised. And yes, I want you to write down the names. Players we need to cut, no matter how difficult it may be. We can¡¯t afford the luxury of sentimentality anymore."


    "Wait, wait. But why release? Why not transfer or loan?"


    "Yeah, why not just move them on that way?"


    Richard took a sharp inhale, then briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, he spoke calmly, "It doesn¡¯t matter. The current players are probably worth only ¡ê20,000 to ¡ê40,000 anyway¡ªnot nearly enough to buy a good player."


    ¡¯It would just add to our burden,¡¯ Richard thought to himself.


    He continued, "That¡¯s why I¡¯m concerned. Cutting the wage bill by releasing players is necessary first. Signing new ones won¡¯t be easy, and to be honest, not many players would want to join our team right now."


    ¡¯This... this doesn¡¯t make any sense! What is he even saying?!¡¯


    But Richard didn¡¯t care about their thoughts. ¡¯My words are absolute here. My word is final. Defy me? Go ahead and try.¡¯


    He wanted to quickly filter out the players he could use as quick a possible. With twenty players and no clear idea of who was reliable and who wasn¡¯t, he decided to let the coaches make the choices for him.


    This way, he could subtly pit both sides against each other, ensuring that he got the best possible outcome.


    It begins with cutting the dead weight at the club while also ensuring that the valuable players who can still grow are kept.


    This way, he isn¡¯t cutting just for the sake of cutting, especially since the club, and he himself, didn¡¯t have much cash to begin with.


    Ball couldn¡¯t hide his bewilderment, his emotions clearly written on his face. How could he compete if he didn¡¯t have enough competitive players for next season?


    ¡¯Don¡¯t tell me I¡¯ll be the first manager to get relegated three times in a row?!¡¯ He felt like he was having an emotional breakdown. So in the end, he yelled, "Half?! Our first-team squad only has a little over twenty players!"


    Joe Royle, the head coach, chimed in seriously, "With all the players who have already left or didn¡¯t have their contracts renewed, another two is the maximum we can sell in order to generate money for the transfer window."


    Everyone in the room looked ready to jump out of their chairs to scold the new reckless owner, while John Maddock clamped his mouth shut, seemingly at a loss for words.


    Richard, however, maintained a pensive expression. He sighed heavily, shaking his head. ¡¯This is what happens when you pamper people. You give an inch, and they take a mile. The moment you try to be lenient, they start asking for more.¡¯


    ¡¯Lee Consortium, thank you for dumping this mess in my lap,¡¯ Richard muttered under inwardly.


    Ball thought there might still be a chance. Speaking calmly, his tone almost sympathetic but with a hint of intimidation, he said, "If you proceed with the releases as you intend, we won¡¯t even be able to fill a 25-man squad. Selecting just 11 players for the starting lineup will become a nightmare."


    "That¡¯s why we¡¯ll use academy players to fill the gaps," Richard said. "Why, Mr. Ball? Even in the second division, do you doubt your own abilities? If that¡¯s the case, I¡¯m truly disappointed," Richard said, his expression filled with disappointment.


    First, attack their ego.


    Who is Alan Ball? He¡¯s considered one of the greatest midfielders of all time. He won the 1966 World Cup with England and had a remarkable career, scoring over 180 league goals in 22 years, playing for various top clubs.


    Sure enough, the question struck like a sharp jab, and Ball¡¯s face turned red. His breath grew heavier.


    Then, praise them.


    "You¡¯re a legend in your own right, Mr. Ball. Your accomplishments, your leadership on the field, they speak for themselves. But managing a club isn¡¯t about past glory. It¡¯s about the present, the future. And that¡¯s where we need you now."


    His expression softened for a moment. His eyes remained steely, but at least someone acknowledged his greatness.


    Finally, the challenge.


    "So, can you take it, Mr. Ball? All my hopes as the owner of Manchester City are riding on you. What will it be, Mr. Ball? Not just surviving in the second division, but leading us back to promotion. It won¡¯t be easy, especially with the club¡¯s current financial state."


    Ball was elated, hearing those words. ¡¯He just begged me, didn¡¯t he? Did he just beg me?!¡¯


    For a moment, a whirlwind of thoughts clouded his judgment. He couldn¡¯t quite grasp what had just been said. His pride and instincts as a successful player fought with the reality of the situation.


    Everyone was alarmed. Everything had the same thought: "No, don¡¯t¡ª"


    Too late.


    Ball leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the table. Finally, he spoke with conviction. "Fine, you wi¡ª"


    CLAP!


    Richard slapped his thigh. "That¡¯s it! Since your manager has spoken, then Ms. Heysen, please."


    Miss Heysen, who had been listening intently from the start, gave Richard a thumbs up. Upon hearing his signal, she understood his intention.


    Quickly, she distributed pens and notepads to each coaching staff member, leaving them confused.


    TAP TAP TAP


    With that, Richard stood up and clapped his hands together. He repeated his instructions: "Each of you will select five players for the release list. We can¡¯t afford to keep players who aren¡¯t contributing at the level we need. I¡¯m asking for your full cooperation. Remember, this isn¡¯t personal. This is about survival."


    "Why should we...?"


    But it seemed that one person wanted to challenge his authority. Either they were bold, or they had another intention.


    "...?"


    The moment Allensky¡¯s question finished, everyone instinctively turned to him, dumbfounded.


    A vein appeared on Richard¡¯s forehead, but he managed to calm himself. He locked eyes with the culprit before responding coolly, "And why not?"


    Everyone expected Richard to explode, but instead, he made a calm rebuttal. This also caught Allensky, who had been hoping to provoke Richard, completely off guard.


    "Player transfers and releases are entirely the manager¡¯s prerogative. It¡¯s an absolute authority. Here, at this club, no one else has the right to interfere," Richard said, then looked toward Alan Ball. "And Mr. Ball already agreed to this earlier, didn¡¯t he?" Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "...."


    Did he want to deny it? Where could he possibly put his face?


    So, Ball chose to remain silent.


    Before leaving, Richard made sure of one thing. He glanced around the room with a serious expression. "You have three days."


    With that, he stood up and walked out of the meeting room.


    One day was enough for Richard to juggle multiple tasks and attend meeting after meeting.


    Next, he went to the scouting department, led by Peter Pettigrew, his nemesis who now served as the chief scout.


    Both were in sombre moods. Richard hated this guy for his cunning ways, while Peter also despised Richard for his luck.


    If not for their different statuses, they probably would have already turned the meeting room into a boxing ring.


    Back to the topic, it was the same as before¡ªexactly the same words Richard had spoken to the coaching team in the previous meeting.


    "..."


    The room fell into a heavy silence as everyone exchanged uncertain glances, each person seemingly searching for the right words.


    "Go ahead and start drafting your lists. If necessary, hold one-on-one meetings with the players. Take your time and be thorough. I¡¯ll consider all your recommendations."


    The next people to address were the physio, the reserves staff, and the youth academy staff.


    "Also, I¡¯m open to listening and asking for your cooperation. Isn¡¯t that right?"


    "..."


    "Instead of making unilateral decisions about who to release, I¡¯m asking for your input."


    "..."


    "This is a sign of my trust in you. I believe you have a clearer understanding of the players than I do."


    The argument was logical, leaving little room for rebuttal.


    "I want to run this club with you. You have three days to draft your lists, and I¡¯ll be expecting your reports then."

 Chapter 79: Internal Coaching Team

    Chapter 79: Internal Coaching TeamAfter dropping the bombshell of the release list on the coaches and staff, Richard didn¡¯t sit idle.


    He still had two days until they submitted the draft.


    Rebuilding wasn¡¯t just about cutting players¡ªfor every departure, a replacement was needed. But finding the right players wasn¡¯t easy.


    His first target...?


    Richard leaned back in his chair, sifting through his memory. Names, stats, performances¡ªtalented stars, promising prospects, hidden gems available for a bargain.


    Of course, the candidates had to meet a specific criterion¡ªespecially a player who could realistically consider joining his second-division team.


    Richard sat at his desk, deep in thought. After a moment, he picked up a newspaper, hoping to find some inspiration.


    "The World Cup..." The bold headline signaled the start of football¡¯s biggest tournament.


    As his eyes scanned the page, his expression hardened. His mouth twitched slightly¡ªsomething in the article had caught his attention.


    Headlines: Ronaldo Naz¨¢rio ¨C The Young Star Inspiring a Nation Beyond Football


    "Football unites us, but so does our responsibility as citizens. Just as we dream of lifting the World Cup, we should also dream of a better Brazil. That starts with voting," Ronaldo declared, his words met with resounding applause.


    Of course, it was Ronaldo.


    As part of an initiative aimed at encouraging young Brazilians to vote, the Brazilian Electoral Court, in collaboration with national media, had appointed Ronaldo as a spokesperson. The campaign sought to engage first-time voters and increase civic participation among the country¡¯s youth.


    At just 17 years old, Ronaldo Naz¨¢rio was already being hailed as Brazil¡¯s next football superstar. Selected for the 1994 World Cup squad, the young forward had captivated the nation with his dazzling performances for Cruzeiro. But now, he had taken on an unexpected role¡ªa spokesperson for the Brazilian elections.


    Richard felt helpless. This wasn¡¯t new¡ªBrazil had a history of using footballers for political agendas.


    Frustrated? Absolutely.


    Football should be football. Politics should be politics.


    His instinct was to pull Ronaldo out of the situation, to protect him from the distractions and potential consequences. But the timing couldn¡¯t have been worse. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Brazilian football was on the rise. Relationships with clubs, agents, and governing bodies were fragile. One wrong move could burn bridges with powerful figures¡ªsomething Richard could not afford.


    He sighed, rubbing his temples. He knew better than to make enemies in South American football politics. Who knows what will happen in the future?


    "Forget it..." he muttered, shaking his head. There was nothing he could do.


    The Next Page... and Richard Nearly Tore the Newspaper Apart.


    Headline: Sol Campbell ¨C The First Star to Leave the Premier League


    The latest football headline wasn¡¯t about a record-breaking transfer or an unbelievable goal¡ªit was about Sol Campbell making history.


    For the first time, a high-profile English player left the Premier League for a lower-league club¡ªa move that sent shockwaves through English football.


    "Was this purely a footballing decision? Or was there more beneath the surface?" the media speculated.


    The press wasted no time piecing together the controversy. Many pointed back to an infamous scuffle with Derby County, suggesting it had sparked the fallout. Others claimed the issue ran far deeper than a heated clash on the pitch.


    Rumors swirled of a growing rift between Campbell and Tottenham¡¯s top brass. Some sources even hinted at internal conflict involving the chairman, manager, and legal team, which ultimately led to Campbell being frozen out of the squad.


    Banished to the youth squad, stripped of his authority, and left in limbo, Campbell finally submitted a transfer request. But there was one problem¡ªno club dared to make an offer.


    With his case still under scrutiny and tensions rising within Tottenham, teams hesitated. Nobody wanted to risk a legal battle or a media frenzy.


    With no concrete offers, the tabloids ran wild. The most sensational claim?


    That Richard Maddox¡ªa manager known for his bold and often reckless decisions¡ªwas willing to take a chance on Campbell if he agreed to join Manchester City.


    For now, it was nothing more than speculation. But with Campbell¡¯s career at a crossroads, anything seemed possible.


    One thing was certain: his time at Tottenham was over, and he had become the first Premier League player to step down to a lower league.


    "Sigh... I¡¯m going to get a headache if I keep reading this newspaper." Richard exhaled, rubbing his temples before setting the paper down.


    The endless headlines, the speculations, the drama¡ªit was exhausting.


    Setting aside the newspaper, he set his sights on the newly introduced Transfer Matching System. Of course, the name was different¡ªTMS itself would only emerge around 2010¡ªbut the concept was already in place. It wasn¡¯t as advanced as future systems, but the foundation was clear.


    This was a centralized database where clubs could check player availability. Leagues required clubs to submit official transfer or loan lists to the league office, which could then share this information internally with other clubs.


    It functioned as an internal system where clubs could inquire about available players through league connections. These lists were not publicly available but were shared with interested clubs, scouts, and agents.


    Unsurprisingly, some clubs still leaked or officially announced transfer-listed players in the press to attract buyers. In fact, in modern football, clubs often do this to drive up player prices. Still, for now, this kind of concept was still novel¡ªmore structured, efficient, and commercially driven than previous transfer systems.


    "Hmm..." Richard quickly skimmed through the names.


    Most were ruled out almost immediately. Still, a few remained. His first priority was sorting through Premier League players nearing retirement¡ªexperienced veterans who could lead his team.


    Among them, one name stood out¡ªa name Richard hadn¡¯t expected to see.


    "Mike Phelan?" he muttered.


    Best known for his long-standing role as Sir Alex Ferguson¡¯s assistant at Manchester United and his later coaching stints, Phelan remained a key figure even after Ferguson¡¯s retirement. He went on to serve as an assistant to Ole Gunnar Solskj?r, Ralf Rangnick, and Michael Carrick as well.


    "This guy... wasn¡¯t he supposed to be Ferguson¡¯s right-hand man in the future?"


    A late bloomer in the Premier League, once respected, now overlooked.


    Forgotten by everyone¡ªincluding himself.


    A player on the verge of retirement.


    His current status?


    Free agent.


    Freshly released by Manchester United¡ªa detail that could pose an issue. But for City in the second division? The rivalry was probably a joke at this point, right?


    "Still, I couldn¡¯t approach him recklessly," Richard mused.


    Richard made direct contact with Mike Phelan. After all, he was a free agent¡ªthere was nothing stopping him.


    And Richard was right.


    Mike Phelan, who had been preparing to retire and wrap up his career, was caught completely off guard by the unexpected meeting request.


    "They want to sign me? Manchester City? Second division?"


    Phelan couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing. Yet, deep inside, a small spark of hope flickered.


    At 31, he still had a year or two left in him. But after spending the last two seasons mostly on the bench, it was easy to feel like his playing days were already over.


    By 1993, his appearances at Manchester United had dwindled due to the rise of younger talents like Andrei Kanchelskis, Paul Ince, Ryan Giggs, and Lee Sharpe. He hadn¡¯t even made enough league appearances to earn a Premier League winner¡¯s medal, and he wasn¡¯t included in the squad for the FA Cup final victory over Chelsea.


    This season, United had offered him a one-year contract extension¡ªbut the role remained the same. A squad player. A backup. A name on the bench.


    He had been prepared to accept it, just as he had the previous season. But what ultimately hardened his resolve to reject the offer was the fact that he had been issued the number 23 shirt¡ªthe same one that would soon be worn by Phil Neville.


    Which meant¡ªwas it a mistake by the staff? Or a subtle way of pushing him out?


    It didn¡¯t matter.


    What mattered now was that it was a clear sign¡ªhis time at the club was coming to an end.


    He had already prepared for retirement¡ªearning his coaching license and planning his transition to the other side of football. But he hadn¡¯t expected Manchester City to approach him so suddenly.


    Maybe they hadn¡¯t heard about his plans. Staring at the man across from him, Phelan let out a deep sigh. He had enough on his plate without wasting time on what seemed like a pointless meeting.


    "I didn¡¯t play at all last season."


    "I know," Richard replied casually, completely unfazed.


    Phelan¡¯s brow furrowed.


    "You¡ª"


    "I need a benchwarmer¡ªsomeone to fill the homegrown quota and meet the minimum squad requirements," Richard bluntly said, serious.


    "..."


    Phelan fell silent. He lowered his gaze and took a slow sip of tea. The hot black liquid tasted bitter.


    Blunt¡ªbut at least honest.


    Better than when an agent or club official said all the right words upfront, only to later break their promises with excuses like "there¡¯s nothing we can do," "we have no power," or whatever else they came up with.


    Indeed, for Richard too, it was better this way. Since he hadn¡¯t truly envisioned Phelan as a player in the first place, he pressed on.


    "But¡ª"


    Phelan looked up, meeting Richard¡¯s steady, unreadable gaze.


    "You¡¯re already preparing to step into coaching, aren¡¯t you?"


    Phelan frowned at this. "And?"


    It wasn¡¯t unusual for footballers to get their coaching licenses and transition into management after retirement. In fact, it was the natural next step for many.


    So Richard¡¯s words didn¡¯t surprise him¡ªbut he was curious where this was going.


    "I¡¯m going to be honest with you¡ªI¡¯ve already chosen a manager, and he¡¯s bringing his own staff to City. But as you know, managers come and go, and so does their staff. What I want to do right now is build stability¡ªsomething that lasts beyond just one manager. When a manager leaves, there needs to be someone who truly understands City from the inside, knows how the club operates, and can carry forward its philosophy."


    Phelan nodded. This was nothing new¡ªalmost every team did it.


    "So, I want to build my own team within the coaching staff," Richard continued. "Not just to oversee the squad but to establish a long-term group that understands the club from the inside. A team that can help me monitor the players, keep an eye on potential conflicts, and give me a heads-up if someone¡¯s form starts to drop."


    "You want me to be your watchman?" Phelan asked, raising an eyebrow.


    Richard clicked his tongue. "Watchman sounds a bit too harsh, don¡¯t you think? Look, it¡¯s better this way. Rather than retiring now at 31, isn¡¯t it better for you to add another year or two? If your goal is to become a manager, then it¡¯s wiser to start in the lower leagues first¡ªlearn the basics, you know? Instead of jumping straight into a big club."


    He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Besides, you¡¯ll have time to wait for your coaching license to be approved, right? Then, wouldn¡¯t that put us on the same page?"


    Phelan¡¯s mouth tightened in thought before he finally spoke. "I understand where you¡¯re coming from, but... what¡¯s in it for me? I mean, if I applied elsewhere, I¡¯d probably get a better offer, right?"


    No matter what the advantages were, City was still in the third tier. There was a higher chance that a bigger club¡ªmaybe even United¡ªwould accept him since he had just left them, offering him a far better career trajectory than joining City.


    "Freedom to experiment. Not with the first team, of course, but with the youth squad. Sure, the new manager will bring in his own youth coaches, but we¡¯ll still need people. To be blunt, I¡¯m overhauling the entire staff setup. That¡¯s why I¡¯m offering you this¡ªa chance to learn and grow with City. It¡¯s not glamorous, but at least you won¡¯t be restricted here."


    "You¡¯re planning to fire your entire staff?" Phelan asked, surprised. ¡¯This guy¡¯s insane.¡¯


    Richard nodded, his expression turning serious. "Do you really think I¡¯d keep the same staff that let City get relegated twice? And let¡¯s not forget the sex abuse scandal. There¡¯s no reason to keep

 Chapter 80: Rebuilding

    Chapter 80: RebuildingMike Phelan decided to accept Richard¡¯s offer, not focusing on salary or what City could provide, but on the freedom and opportunity to experiment, as long as it aligned with Richard¡¯s philosophy of attacking football.


    After securing Phelan¡¯s verbal agreement, Richard remembered a few key staff members under Sir Alex Ferguson who had played pivotal roles in developing the Class of ¡¯92 and United¡¯s early Premier League success.


    He began searching for names from Manchester United¡¯s staff to make sure, and quickly found the following:


    First, Tony Whelan, the man in charge of youth development at United. Tony had coached young players part-time in Manchester City¡¯s Community Football Programme between 1987 and 1990. In 1990, he was invited by Brian Kidd to join Manchester United¡¯s Centre of Excellence, which meant Richard crossed his name off the list.


    Second, Eric Harrison, who played a key role in producing Fergie¡¯s Fledglings, the group of young players that became the backbone of United¡¯s success. Eric was currently the youth team manager, making him impossible to poach.


    Third, Brian Kidd, the man who discovered Ryan Giggs. He was now the assistant youth manager, making it nearly impossible for Richard to bring him on board. Kidd also helped Ferguson guide United to a Football League Cup win in 1992 and the Premier League title in 1993, which only made him more entrenched at United.


    Fourth and fifth, however, were different: Ren¨¦ Meulensteen and Steve McClaren.


    For McClaren, he was still in the early stages of his coaching career, working as a youth and reserve team coach at Oxford United. As for Meulensteen, he was coaching Qatar¡¯s U-18 team, which still made it possible to bring him on board.


    Phelan could become his trusted informant within the first squad, Meulensteen was key in improving City¡¯s attacking philosophy, and McClaren could help modernize City¡¯s training methods. They could work with O¡¯Neill¡¯s team.


    So, Richard assigned the task of poaching the last two pieces of the puzzle to John Maddock, City¡¯s current general manager.


    When Richard presented his idea to recruit these three individuals, especially Phelan, even John was shocked.


    "The player you want to bring in is from Manchester United? The United that won back-to-back Premier League titles?"


    "Ex-player. Remember, ex-player," Richard emphasized, as Phelan had already been released.


    "The issue isn¡¯t that," John responded, shaking his head. "What I don¡¯t get is, how do you plan to bring someone from United here?"


    "Richard looked at John strangely. ¡¯You were quiet usually. Why are you suddenly so passionate all of a sudden?¡¯"


    John pressed his palm against his forehead, as though he didn¡¯t have the energy to respond. Even his prideful self couldn¡¯t find an appropriate reaction to Richard¡¯s idea of bringing an ex-United player here.


    "Wait, where are we going?" John suddenly realized one problem.


    "To discuss the contract, of course."


    "Wait. If you¡¯re meeting the player, shouldn¡¯t you be going to the training ground? They¡¯re all out there, training."


    "He¡¯s not there."


    "What do you mean? Why wouldn¡¯t a player be on the training ground? Or maybe there¡¯s a stadium tour scheduled?"


    Usually, when doing a transfer, the first step is the initial negotiation, where the player and club agree on terms. Then comes the transfer fee agreement. After that, pre-contract discussions take place, like wages, terms, and bonuses.


    For City, given their position, they might even schedule a tour for the player to visit the stadium, which is meant to appeal to players from higher leagues. After that comes the medical examination, and finally, analyzing the transfer deal.


    "To discuss the pre-contract, of course."


    John raised an eyebrow in confusion as he and Richard approached a door marked with a plaque that read, "Chairman."


    "Why are we here then?"


    "As I said, to meet Phelan. Now to discuss the pre-contract."


    "This is your office."


    "Yes, I know."


    "And why would a player be discussing that in your office?"


    "Because he¡¯s also part of the coaching staff next season. He¡¯s a player-coach."


    "...Unbelievable."


    Leaving a stunned John behind, Richard gave him a quick wave before stepping away. As he remembered something, he rifled through the documents in his hands, found what he was looking for, and handed it to John.


    "Help me secure this player. He¡¯s the one O¡¯Neill has requested for his squad. He¡¯s hoping we can sign him before pre-season."


    John looked surprised. "Do we have the funds?"


    "Just prioritize the ones we can loan first." S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    John raised an eyebrow before opening the list of players.


    Shay Given (Goalkeeper) - Regarded as one of the greatest Irish goalkeepers of all time, but at the moment, he couldn¡¯t displace first-choice goalkeeper Tim Flowers at Blackburn. To make matters worse, Given suffered an arm injury during training, which made his chances slimmer.


    Tony Grant (Midfielder) - Had never been able to secure a regular spot in Everton¡¯s first team after signing as a trainee. Last season, he was loaned out to Tranmere Rovers, and rumors suggested that Tranmere were interested in another loan deal this season. Everton had already agreed to the loan, but it was now up to Grant to make his decision.


    Ian Taylor (Midfielder) - Port Vale agreed to transfer Grant to Sheffield Wednesday, but the problem was that Sheffield Wednesday was caught off guard by the irrelevant bonuses in Taylor¡¯s contract, such as ¡ê100,000 for an England appearance, ¡ê25,000 for every ten goals Taylor scored, and 15% of future profits.


    Finally, there are two players to buy. First, Ian Cox (Defender) from Carshalton Athletic for ¡ê40,000, and secondly, the partner for the current Ronaldo, Christian Vieri (Striker) from Ravenna for €300,000.


    "Promise them playing time as first-team players and full support from the club. The contract should also offer a standard three years, and for the next contract discussion, if they wish to leave, the club will not stand in their way." Richard gave his final instructions.


    "Is this everything?" John asked.


    "Yes... no, there¡¯s actually one more thing. But for the last one, I¡¯ll handle the negotiations with Norwich City myself."


    "Norwich?" John¡¯s eyes widened.


    Norwich City is competing in the Premier League this year. What kind of crazy idea is he planning now?


    So, the next day, Richard immediately started his Porsche and drove all the way from Manchester to Norwich to meet the striker he wanted to loan, Emile Heskey.


    "You¡¯re telling me that the owner, along with the current general manager, came all the way here to scout a 17-year-old player? How often does something like that happen? It¡¯s supposed to be the manager, no less. He could¡¯ve just made a phone call, but showing up in person? Maybe that¡¯s what inflated his ego so much."


    "And that¡¯s why we¡¯re here," Richard said simply.


    John¡¯s eyebrows shot up. "What?"


    "Of course, it¡¯s all about tactics," Richard said with a smirk. "When dealing with clubs from higher leagues, what you need most is to flatter them. Imagine if the owner himself were negotiating? When has that ever happened?"


    He wasn¡¯t foolish. The current City team needed sacrifices first. So when dealing with them, treat them like royalty, at least at first. As for later... well, hehe...


    "Because by coming personally, we¡¯re allowed to see their scrimmage, aren¡¯t we?" Richard continued. "By acknowledging them as such, I gave them the respect they¡¯ve never received in the Premier League."


    "I know, but will they actually agree? After all, the Premier League and the third tier are worlds apart."


    "Well, I can only promise them money and playing time. If they refuse, then so be it. By the way, how¡¯s the O¡¯Neill loan going? Any updates?"


    "All good, except for Vieri," John shook his head. "Ravenna accepted our €300,000 offer, but Vieri rejected it and instead accepted an offer from Venezia."


    Richard sighed at this, then set his jaw in a determined expression. "Then we need to get Heskey at all costs."


    Soon, Richard and John arrived at Carrow Road.


    "You¡¯re the coach, Daniel, correct?" Richard asked, extending his hand for a handshake.


    Daniel was flattered but quickly composed himself. He caught Richard¡¯s hand and shook it. "Yes, that¡¯s me. Nice to meet you, and welcome to Carrow Road. Coach Deehan has already notified me, but he¡¯s a bit busy with preparations for next season, so..."


    Richard sneered but didn¡¯t show it. "No problem. You know why I¡¯m here, right? I want to see Emile Heskey."


    "Yes, there¡¯s a scrimmage starting in five minutes. Please follow me," Daniel said before leading Richard and John toward the pitch.


    Soon, the scrimmage began.


    Richard folded his arms as he shifted his gaze to the young Emile Heskey.


    Thud!


    "Ugh!"


    Heskey attempted to control the ball but was shoved off balance by a defender.


    The coach shook his head at this and turned to Richard. "As you can see, the player who just knocked him over is from the reserves. He¡¯s still far from debuting for the first team. The Premier League is tough. And yet, even against someone like him, Emile can¡¯t hold his ground. Well... I suppose he¡¯s still just a youth player, but with this, he¡¯s still far from ready for the Premier League."


    "Well, after all, he¡¯s still 17, isn¡¯t he?" John asked, surprised at the pressure they were placing on the young player.


    The coach nodded, then shook his head. "Coach Deehan has already been preparing Heskey to replace Sutton, who just left the club. With his tall, big frame, there were high hopes for him, but you know what they say ¡ª the higher your expectations, the harder you fall."


    "I see..." Richard muttered.


    Everyone thought Richard¡¯s response indicated that he understood and might let go of the idea of pursuing Heskey after his poor performance. But unknown to them, it wasn¡¯t exactly what Richard meant.


    Given Emile Heskey¡¯s 6-foot height and his large physique, many expected him to excel in physical strength and win aerial challenges.


    That was the standard expectation¡ªhe was supposed to be a goal machine in front of the net. However, from what Richard observed, Emile¡¯s style of play resembled Alan Shearer more than that of a typical target man.


    ¡¯Ronaldo will benefit from his unselfish style of play,¡¯ that was one of Richard¡¯s thoughts.


    That was because Ronaldo played like a winger ¨C but he did so in the centre of the pitch, which made him infinitely more dangerous. He played like every attack had a 10-second deadline and the Brazilian would explode into life with no warning for defenders.


    Richard stepped forward and extended his hand toward Coach Daniel. "Coach Daniel, thank you so much for your time and for accommodating us."


    Daniel sighed, already aware that Emile¡¯s loan deal wasn¡¯t going through, but he still shook Richard¡¯s hand. "No problem. Let me escort you¡ª"


    "I¡¯d like to proceed with the loan process for Emile Heskey. Can we do that now? I promise he¡¯ll get valuable playing time," Richard interrupted, his statement shocking both the coach and the general manager.


    They could only look at Richard and think, ¡¯What a madman.¡¯


    Emile Heskey (Striker) - While last season he was criticized for going to ground too easily and his goal-scoring ratio was very low, causing his confidence to drop, Norwich was reportedly interested in offering him a loan opportunity.


    While Richard and John were in Norwich, the first-team squad was in chaos.


    The reason?


    The new chairman had planned to release players, and that was enough to make everyone uneasy and restless.


    In front of the Main Road stadium, where the gates were closed, a few fans were waiting, but no one passed through or opened the gates.


    "Doesn¡¯t the atmosphere feel... unusual?"


    "This is serious. Are they skipping training?"


    It wasn¡¯t that they were skipping training, but the players were now leaving through the back entrance. They were warned to be cautious for the time being, of course, by their own backers¡ªwhoever they were.


    Reporters had tried reaching out, but Richard shut down everything.


    The club¡¯s communications and marketing staff were on paid leave, leaving no one for journalists to contact.


    The only people seen coming and going at Main Road over the past few days were those from the football department.


    All non-football departments had been given paid vacation.


    Not the media. Not the local press. Not even the community. No one knew anything.

 Chapter 81: The Squad is Ready

    Chapter 81: The Squad is ReadyThere was a strange tension among the players. It stemmed from their new owner who seemed to be the busiest yet remained almost entirely out of sight.


    Usually, when new owners like Swales or Lee come in, they¡¯ll meet with the players, introduce themselves, and start developing relationships with the team. But Richard was different. He kept to himself, and that only made the players more uneasy, unsure of what to expect from him. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This change was creating a lot of uncertainty within the squad.


    Of course, they had seen him briefly after everything that happened, with all the meetings between staff and other employees.


    However, it still felt very unusual to them, as they had been used to the approaches of Swales and Lee, who tried to reach out to them, creating a positive atmosphere and fostering a strong team culture. Not to mention the expectations¡ªthey knew a meeting had to happen.


    "And they¡¯ve warned us not to let any internal drama leak, or else there¡¯ll be consequences," Mark Robins, the current striker for Manchester City, said to his agent.


    "Is he really planning to release players?" his agent then asked.


    "Based on how anxious Coach Alan is, it¡¯s probably true," Robins replied.


    Naturally, news of a release list was enough to put everyone on edge. Everyone knew about the double relegation they¡¯d experienced in the past two seasons. For many, transferring to another team was unlikely, and even if they did manage to move, they¡¯d undoubtedly earn less than they did now.


    At first, they dismissed it as a rumor.


    But when the coach and staff started holding one-on-one meetings with players, it quickly became apparent that the rumors were true.


    Players are perceptive. They soon realized they were independently compiling release lists. This strained atmosphere made it impossible to focus on training.


    The team captain, Keith Curle, was particularly displeased with the situation. Above all, he was concerned about the team¡¯s performance after this.


    ¡¯Triple relegation? The new chairman is only making the situation worse,¡¯ he thought. "How many are they planning to cut? It¡¯s not like we have anyone lined up to replace them. The squad¡¯s already stretched thin¡ªhow are we supposed to handle the season?"


    "Ugh, this is chaos. Sure, it¡¯s funny to see them scared of being released, but still..."


    At that moment, a player with an easygoing grin approached him. It was Shaun Goater, the City striker.


    "Keith, any information to share?" Goater asked.


    "How¡¯s the situation in the dressing room?" Keith replied.


    Goater shrugged. "Bad. Everyone is on edge."


    "Pathetic, isn¡¯t it? If they were so worried about being released, they should¡¯ve worked on their skills earlier. Instead, they¡¯re just whining about it now. No wonder we got relegated twice."


    "How about you? Worried you¡¯ll get released?" Goater teased.


    "Me?" Keith curled his lips. "I never get worried about that. I just know how to play football."


    The next day, or three days after Richard¡¯s instructions about the draft list, he had a meeting with John and Miss Heysen, all while the club was still in subtle chaos


    "How¡¯s the mood?"


    "Utter chaos. The team¡¯s practically boiling over."


    As Miss Heysen reported helplessly, Richard shrugged off his suit and draped it over a chair before sitting down.


    "Sounds like they¡¯re doing their job well," Richard said, almost cheerfully.


    Sigh "They¡¯re drafting the release list properly, which is why the team¡¯s in an uproar. The ones who deserve to be cut are always the loudest."


    "Oh, Miss Heysen, it seems you know quite a lot, huh?"


    Miss Heysen shut her mouth instantly.


    "Hahaha, don¡¯t worry, Miss Heysen. I won¡¯t force you to spill anything. Sooner or later, we all have to face the hard truth, no matter what," Richard said.


    "..."


    "The players who know they aren¡¯t good enough to avoid the list will stay quiet and observant. So, the louder it gets, the better."


    John Maddock, who heard this, shook his head. ¡¯Usually, when Swales and Lee had problems, they just dumped it on me or the manager. I¡¯ve never heard of the chairman stepping in to intervene like this. Is it all about asserting control over the club?"


    Richard clicked his tongue, pausing for a moment before speaking. "Asserting control? Let me ask you this: What do you think is the biggest risk for this club?"


    In his heart, he couldn¡¯t help but criticize John. This guy constantly questioned his decisions, even over the smallest matters.


    It was starting to wear on him, making he seriously consider finding a new general manager. Oh¡ªno, not a general manager. That term was outdated. What he really meant was a CEO.


    ¡¯Still, now wasn¡¯t the time. Replacing a CEO wasn¡¯t like hiring a new coach or scouting a new player. It required careful planning, months¡ªmaybe even a year¡ªto find the right candidate.¡¯ Richard pondered it carefully.


    The right CEO could shape the club¡¯s future for the next decade, and Richard wasn¡¯t about to make a rash decision. For now, John would stay. But in the back of his mind, the clock had already started ticking.


    John paused for a second, considering Richard¡¯s question before answering decisively. "At this point? Poor finances, a thin squad¡ª"


    "Stop, stop it!" Richard quickly raised his hand to cut him off. Then he emphasized repeatedly, "It¡¯s the culture. You know? Culture!"


    Richard let the words sink in for a moment before continuing. "When a club has a problem with its culture, you¡¯re done for. It takes decades to build it from scratch, and you can say it¡¯s almost impossible without a complete overhaul." Richard paused slightly, then added an example. "What if the players band together and stage a mutiny or start underperforming out of defiance?"


    Miss Heysen and John¡¯s eyes widened in realization.


    "Player revolts happen more often than you think. Even at massive clubs like Real Madrid, conflicts between managers and players have led to declines in performance."


    "That¡¯s..." John trailed off, shocked by the revelation.


    "Why do you think City dropped twice in a row under Alan Ball?" Richard let the words hang in the air, giving everyone a moment to digest. He continued, "Just because a player is skilled or famous doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re a good fit for the system. Their reputation, their skills, their personalities¡ªall these issues become more common in disorganized clubs like City."


    The room fell silent.


    "Everything will hit a wall¡ªtactics, reforms, even changes to the fine system. If discontent brews among the players and they move as a group, nothing will work."


    John, still surprised, asked, "Why do you know so much?"


    ¡¯The question, of course, once again...¡¯ Richard could only smile bitterly.


    With examples like the Glazers at Manchester United, Juventus under Thiago Motta, and so much mismanagement in football, how could he not? But he couldn¡¯t share that with them¡ªat least, never.


    "Alright, enough with this topic. Where¡¯s the draft?" Richard asked, his tone shifting as he turned to John.


    John nodded and, handed the draft over to Richard, allowing him to examine it carefully.


    Richard scanned the pages, his eyes darting over the names and notes on the list. He didn¡¯t speak immediately, his face unreadable as he took in the details.


    John stood quietly, waiting for Richard¡¯s reaction, while Miss Heysen observed the scene with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.


    Finally, after a long pause, Richard let out a low sigh, still holding the draft in his hands.


    "Twelve players," he said quietly, glancing at the list.


    The plan is simple. Every coach, every staff member will write down the names of players they believe should go. But here¡¯s the catch¡ªeach of them will naturally target players from the opposite factions.


    Simply put, they¡¯ll focus on players they don¡¯t get along with, or those who pose a threat to their own position. They¡¯ll think they¡¯re getting rid of the players they don¡¯t like, but when the factions clash, the players who don¡¯t belong on the list will simply... vanish from the discussion.


    The players listed are precisely the ones who need to go. They are the ones most likely to cause a disturbance.


    If anyone were to question his decision, he could simply state¡ªlegitimately¡ªthat it was based on a thorough evaluation: their salaries versus contributions, their compatibility with the team¡¯s style, and even their relationships with other players. Every factor had been meticulously considered, leading to the most logical conclusion.


    He didn¡¯t want any scenario where, when O¡¯Neill arrived, the players would sabotage things and make the situation even worse.


    After all, who can guarantee?


    Take Manchester United, for example. Do you think after multiple manager changes, things just magically got better?


    No, they didn¡¯t. The constant changes only compounded the problems, creating more instability and confusion.


    The instability at United, the power struggles, the internal divisions¡ªit was a case study in how bad things could get when mismanaged, when a failed system was created, and when a bad culture took hold. It wasn¡¯t just the failure of one manager or another; it was the failure of the entire structure.


    Players started pulling the strings behind the scenes, and that led to chaos. He couldn¡¯t let that happen at City. Not under his reign.


    Richard glanced over at the draft one last time, before giving a sharp command: "Put all these players here under the loan and transfer list immediately. Accept whatever offers come in."


    John blinked in surprise. "You¡¯re not going to release them?"


    Richard clicked his tongue. "Given our financial situation, what else would you expect?"


    The other party eyes then narrowed as realization dawned. ¡¯So, you¡¯re toying with them.¡¯


    "Understood." John stood up, his mind already processing the next steps. He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Richard and Miss Heysen alone.


    Once the door closed, Richard picked up a pen and a piece of paper¡ªthose who were left untouched by the internal chaos, those who still had value in the squad.


    GK: Tony Coton, Nicky Weaver


    DF: Richard Edghill, Tony Vaughan, Nick Fenton, Richard Jobson, Keith Curle


    MF: Jamie Pollock, Jeff Whitley, Keith Gillespie, Graham Fenton, Steve Lomas, Paul Lake


    FW: Paul Dickov, Shaun Goater


    A total of 15 players.


    Add with the upcoming player


    GK: Shay Given (loan from Blackburn)


    DF: Sol Campbell, Ian Cox, Roberto Carlos, Cafu


    MF: Ian Taylor (loan), Tony Grant (loan), Mike Phelan


    FW: Emile Heskey (loan), Ronaldo


    A total of 25 players.


    Manchester City is ready.

 Chapter 82: Sacking

    Chapter 82: SackingUnlike the others, who had swiftly compiled their own release lists, Allensky, the physical coach, had been agonizing over the task ever since Richard issued his directive. Since that day, his life had turned into a nightmare.


    He couldn¡¯t shake the constant anxiety. The release list felt like an ominous cloud, casting a shadow over every moment.


    Each time he spoke to a player, he saw the desperation in their eyes, their fear of being cast aside.


    His relatively young age made him more relatable to the players, and as a result, he had become more of a friend than a coach to them. He often spent time outside of training with them, attending parties and socializing.


    "Coach, is the release list real?" one player had asked him, his voice trembling as if trying to read the truth in his face.


    Another player, shifting nervously, had asked, "Wait, my name¡¯s not on it, right?"


    Allensky had tried his best to reassure them, but his words felt empty. "I can¡¯t say much. You¡¯ll have to wait and see."


    But even as he spoke, he could see the strain on their faces. Players were desperately fighting to keep their spots, some going so far as to plead for their place on the team.


    They seemed to revert to being 16 or 17-year-olds again, desperately hoping for a chance to secure a spot or a quick promotion. He understood. After all, a footballer¡¯s career doesn¡¯t last forever, and most importantly, they¡¯re paid very well. So, he tried his best to reassure them, but his words felt empty.


    "I can¡¯t say much. You¡¯ll have to wait and see."


    This was the harsh reality of football.


    "Coach, I¡¯ve been here for four years. I love this club¡ªwhere else would I go?"


    Another voice chimed in, "Coach, let¡¯s be honest¡ªanyone who¡¯s desirable to other teams has already left. The rest of us? If we¡¯re not here by choice, it¡¯s because no one else wants us. You know that, don¡¯t you?"


    If Richard could hear them, he would sneer. It¡¯s not that no one else wants you, but you don¡¯t want to leave your high salary at City!


    Skilled players are hot commodities, but those with mediocre or subpar abilities?


    This is where hard work comes into play.


    For them, there was nowhere to go but down. They were the ones who couldn¡¯t escape the sinking ship, destined to go down with it.


    Allensky also knew this well. It was why he hesitated, especially when he heard the last plea.


    it wall began with his own his own interviews.


    It all began with his own interviews.


    "Coach, you know we¡¯ve had drinks together at the pub..." S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Coach! You know I think of you like a big brother. We¡¯ve spent nights out together, remember that lady¡ª"


    "I could move to another club, sure. But what about my wife? This house? She¡¯s pregnant, Coach! We¡¯re expecting a baby!"


    "Coach, I¡¯m not that bad, am I? I¡¯ll work harder. You even promised to be my child¡¯s godfather!"


    Releasing players was too difficult for someone as kind-hearted as him.


    Grinding his teeth, he made a decision.


    "Who said you¡¯re being released? Nonsense! None of you are going anywhere! I¡¯ll protect all of you, no matter what!"


    So, he planned to launch a protest against the release orders at the next meeting with Richard.


    But the blunt truth hit like a slap in the face.


    The next internal meeting.


    "Alright, the previous meeting didn¡¯t go well for us, but let¡¯s talk amicably, shall we?" he said, his tone casual but firm. "I¡¯ve already got the draft you wrote. I must say, you did a good job. Now, let¡¯s get to the main issue, shall we?"


    ¡¯Ah, here it is,¡¯ everyone thought the same. After the players, now it¡¯s their turn.


    "..."


    Richard nodded at them before getting straight to the point. "I assume you both have a guess as to why I¡¯ve called you here."


    For a moment, the table was silent.


    Alan Ball let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders loosening slightly, but the others remained tense, their irritation evident.


    "This is about firing us, isn¡¯t it?" He tugged at his loosened tie, barely masking his frustration.


    The room grew heavier as sharp gazes locked onto Richard, silently demanding answers.


    Without even waiting for Richard to respond, he scoffed. "So, you¡¯re planning to sack us and bring in new staff? Good luck with that. Post a job listing and see how many applicants you get. We¡¯re the only ones who have stuck with this club, especially after the double relegation.""


    Richard gave him a strange look at that statement. "Mr. Ball," he said calmly, "I don¡¯t know how to put this, but... it was under you that City dropped two divisions in a row. Have you forgotten that?"


    Silence.


    Ball¡¯s expression wavered for a moment before he quickly regained his composure. "So what¡¯s the plan?" he muttered. "Fire all of us at once? Don¡¯t forget about the compensation. And do you really think you can survive a forty-plus-game season without a proper coaching staff? Do you honestly believe your new team can handle everything on their own?"


    "Who said anything about firing you?"


    "...What?"


    The room fell silent, their shock unmistakable.


    "I intend to keep all of you."


    "?!"


    Everyone¡¯s expression brightened at this revelation.


    John was the most shocked of them all, but when he saw Richard cast a deep glance at him, he wisely kept his mouth shut.


    "Wait, what?" Everyone immediately began murmuring among themselves.


    This wasn¡¯t what they had expected.


    "Why do you all look so surprised?" Richard smirked. "This meeting isn¡¯t about replacing anyone¡ªit¡¯s about figuring out how we move forward together."


    "Is that so? Hahaha," Ball laughed heartily, his easy-going nature on full display. "I have to admit, I was a bit nervous knowing the new owner hadn¡¯t formally met with us yet and had put all transfers on hold with preseason right around the corner."


    His laughter was infectious, and soon, the rest of the room followed, the tension from earlier gradually easing.


    "However¡ª"


    Richard suddenly spoke, cutting through the laughter like a knife. The room fell silent in an instant.


    Richard turned toward Miss Heysen and gave a slight nod. "Miss Heysen, if you would."


    The senior club secretary nodded in return before placing a document in front of each member of the coaching staff.


    A wave of confusion spread through the room as they glanced down at the papers¡ªit was a copy of their contracts.


    "From now on, all of our discussions will be based on these contracts," Richard stated plainly.


    "..."


    The smiles that had filled the room just moments ago disappeared almost instantly.


    "These contracts outline your roles as the core coaching staff of this club. In return for the club¡¯s support, you are expected to fulfill your responsibilities accordingly, including abiding by the club¡¯s rules."


    The contracts were standard, with only a few unique clauses.


    Richard tapped his finger on a specific section before scanning everyone¡¯s faces.


    "Section 4, Point 2A, Clause: Disclosing tactical and technical information. Training sessions are off-limits to outsiders, including non-essential staff. It is explicitly stated that coaches must ensure training sessions remain undisturbed by external influences."


    Non-Disclosure Agreement (NDA): Many coaches and staff members sign confidentiality agreements prohibiting them from disclosing tactical or technical information. Some clubs explicitly state in contracts that coaches must ensure training sessions remain undisturbed by external influences. In some cases, contracts specify who is allowed to attend training sessions and impose strict limitations on media and external guests.


    Instinctively, all eyes turned to Alan Ball¡ªthe man notorious for bringing his wife to training sessions and flashing his World Cup medal at every opportunity.


    Ball¡¯s expression twisted instantly before he scowled. "Why the fuss?" he huffed. "Family support is important for motivation. And let¡¯s be honest, the players would train even harder if they knew a beautiful woman was watching."


    An awkward silence fell over the room. A few exchanged glances¡ªsome visibly baffled, while others struggled to suppress their reactions. Even Richard was shocked beyond belief.


    Seeing the tension in the room, the ever-fussy Allensky tried to lighten the mood. "Hahaha, Sir, no need to get worked up. Don¡¯t you think you¡¯re overreacting¡ª"


    Richard raised his hand, cutting him off. "And why do you think it¡¯s your place to step into this conversation, Mr. Allensky?"


    Allensky blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Excuse me?"


    Richard leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping against the table. "This discussion is between me, the chairman, and the manager. Why do you feel the need to overstep your boundaries?"


    He scoffed, shifting in his seat. "I was just¡ª"


    "You were just what?" Richard¡¯s voice remained calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. "Do you even understand your position here? You¡¯re a physical coach, not the manager, not even the head coach. What makes you think you can interrupt like that?"


    There¡¯s a reason people or the media write things like "Mourinho¡¯s team" or "Staff under Pep Guardiola."


    A manager is a general, and the coaches are their officers.


    This hierarchy is clear and rigid.


    It¡¯s the same with the manager and head coach. Even though their titles may sound similar, their roles are different.


    A head coach oversees the players, their training, and tactical instructions¡ªthat¡¯s it. Though later, the role of head coach started to blur with the assistant manager¡¯s role.


    A manager, on the other hand, is the complete package. They manage the squad, influence transfers and contracts, and even participate in broader club policies.


    Now, back to Allensky¡ªwhat is his role? Physical coach. To speak out in a situation like this? That¡¯s not just bold¡ªit¡¯s reckless."


    Allensky eyes flared with anger for a moment, but Richard was quicker.


    "Second, the code of conduct. Avoiding excessive personal relationships, no business dealings between players and coaches, and always maintaining professionalism in communication while avoiding inappropriate interactions. Mr. Allensky." Richard paused before looking at him deeply.


    "I understand the importance of a physical coach. That¡¯s why every club has one or two. But there are rules to maintain professionalism, discipline, and avoid favoritism. However, I¡¯ve heard you might be too close to the players."


    Allensky¡¯s expression changed instantly. He didn¡¯t even get a chance to start the fight, yet he was already being beaten instead.


    For a professional club, this could indeed create potential issues. That¡¯s why professional distance is required to ensure staff do not become too involved in the players¡¯ personal lives.


    There are two glaring issues that Richard raised regarding how Alan Ball managed his staff. They have already violated the training secrecy and also the Code of Conduct policies


    "And also, Mr. Allensky, you¡¯re the only one who didn¡¯t submit the draft? May I ask why?"


    Everyone was taken aback, and they instinctively looked toward Allensky.


    The other party¡¯s face turned beet red. With a heavy breath, he countered, "Unilateral decisions to release players¡ª"


    "Enough with the excuses," Richard cut him off. "There are plenty of players still unemployed outside, more skilled than those players who embarrassingly dropped the league twice in a row! They work out day and night just to stay fit, hoping to catch the attention of agents or clubs."


    "..."


    "You¡¯re scared of being hated, of being resented by the players you¡¯ve been so kind to. You¡¯re afraid of them turning against you, of never being able to face them again. You just want to be the ¡¯good guy.¡¯"


    The words hit like a slap.


    Seeing that he was unable to utter a single word, Richard shook his head.


    Firing a manager and their staff was always a complex and often brutal process, involving multiple steps¡ªfrom behind-the-scenes evaluations to the official termination. But this time, it was even more ruthless.


    Richard wasn¡¯t just letting go of one man; he was planning to clear out the entire department.


    "Mr. Allan Ball, I suppose this is the end, isn¡¯t it? Your performance over the past two seasons has been abysmal, to say the least. The only reason you¡¯ve managed to stay this long is because you were riding on the goodwill of the previous chairman."


    A heavy silence filled the room. Everyone¡¯s chest tightened¡ªbut then, almost instinctively, they let it go. After all, there was still a severance package waiting for them.


    "However!" Richard¡¯s voice suddenly cut through the air, sharp as a blade. His gaze swept across the room, cold and calculating.


    "Mr. Allan Ball," he continued, his tone deadly serious. "For two consecutive years, you have violated club policy by disclosing tactical and technical information. Do you take the club¡¯s rules as a joke? You and your team?"


    "..."


    The accusations were heavy.


    "Secondly," Richard¡¯s voice remained firm, "Mr. Allensky, you violated the team¡¯s code of conduct, directly contributing to the decline in team performance, and now you are also refusing instructions to take the club to a better¡ª"


    "What? That¡¯s slander¡ª"


    Richard raised a hand, cutting him off. He let the silence hang, scanning the room, ensuring his words carried their full weight before turned to their current head instead, the manager.


    "So, Mr. Ball," Richard¡¯s lips curled slightly, "I will be lenient. Before I take this to court and the FA, let¡¯s settle this amicably, shall we?"


    He leaned forward slightly, "I¡¯m willing to let you go quietly. Instead of the full severance package, you¡¯ll receive just 10% of what the club would have owed you. Consider it my good graces... while you still have the option to walk away."


    "Ten?!This is tyran¡ª"


    "And I heard¡ª" Richard cut in once again, turning toward the tactical coach, Robbie McGinn, before dropping a bombshell. "One of your staff were very close to the previous coach, Barry Bennell?"


    McGinn¡¯s expression changed drastically.


    Barry Bennell, the former coach of Manchester City during the tenure of previous chairmen Eric Alexander and Swales, had attended the same college as Coach McGinn¡ªIlford College. In fact, it was no secret that McGinn had joined City on Bennell¡¯s recommendation to Chairman Lee before Bennell accepted the Newcastle job.


    Richard¡¯s thoughts trailed off, his gaze locking onto McGinn. The sudden change in the man¡¯s expression told him everything he needed to know.


    ¡¯Your silence says it all.¡¯


    It¡¯s no secret that Crewe Alexandra and Manchester City have been entangled in a sexual abuse scandal involving the abuse of young players, and this has even been widely reported on TV and in newspapers everywhere, thanks to Richard.


    "So, Mr. Ball, your third sin against this club is allowing an offender¡ª"


    "I am not¡ª" McGinn countered.


    "And yet you remain silent. I can see it on your face," Richard cut him off with disgust, his sharp words making McGinn¡¯s expression darken further.


    Everyone in the room was confused about what they were talking about.


    Since the FA had only just begun its investigation into Crewe Alexandra, nothing had been fully exposed regarding Manchester City yet, leaving many unaware of the full extent of the situation. So, Richard decided to tell them what he knew.


    He began revealing Barry Bennell¡¯s involvement¡ªa name everyone in the room recognized. They all knew him, though not as closely as McGinn.


    The effect was instantaneous.


    A shift in the atmosphere was almost palpable as everyone turned to look at McGinn in a new light. Some even instinctively took a step back, subtly distancing themselves. McGinn twitched at the reaction.


    "As I said, I had nothing to do with Bennell¡ª"


    "But Mr. McGinn, that¡¯s very strange," Richard cut him off, his gaze turning cold. "You¡¯re not denying what happened. Instead, you¡¯re just insisting that you weren¡¯t involved... which means¡ª"


    He leaned in, his voice sharp. "You knew about it, didn¡¯t you?"


    A wave of realization washed over the room.


    Richard knew this case well¡ªit hadn¡¯t just shaken England but all of European football. The investigation had dragged on for two years. It was so infamous that everyone talked about it, to the point that even ghosts would know.


    In fact, this case would only be fully exposed in 2016. While the initial investigation took place in the 1990s, a lack of evidence led to the case being closed, allowing a sex offender to roam freely for the next twenty years.


    However, the current FA has already identified several names: Newcastle coach Barry Bennell, George Ormond, Chelsea scout Eddie Heath, and current Burnley coach Bob Higgins.


    Twenty years!


    Just how many more victims had suffered during that time?


    If he hadn¡¯t bought Manchester City, the Lee Consortium would have done everything in its power to suppress the case, keeping it from the public eye. The same went for everyone else¡ªpeople knew, yet they chose to stay silent.


    The more Richard thought about this, the more he couldn¡¯t contain his disgust.


    "So, Mr. Ball... let me repeat this." Richard fixed his gaze on him. "This is your third and final sin, and I won¡¯t say it again. Let¡¯s part ways peacefully¡ªno talking to the media, no back-and-forth attacks. Just hand over your resignation letter, shall we?"


    Ball was taken aback. "What? Wait¡ªyou said earlier there would be 10%¡ª"


    If this had only been about the NDA clause and conduct violations, they might have salvaged something. But with McGinn¡¯s involvement now exposed, no club would dare hire them again. They had no choice but to concede.


    "Too late," Richard cut him off coldly. "I¡¯ve changed my mind. Either take it or leave it. My ammunition is greater and far more damaging than yours. So, do you really want to test me?"


    With that, Richard managed to save about ¡ê2 million¡ªmoney he could now use to terminate staff in other departments, especially in scouting.


    It was time for a cleanup!

 Chapter 83: Press Conference

    Chapter 83: Press ConferenceCity¡¯s recruitment efforts were far from over. In fact, after meeting with the main coaching staff, Richard became even more proactive.


    Alan Ball¡¯s resignation, along with his team, meant an easing of the financial burden for City. Richard was now planning to find another backup striker to prepare for rotation alongside the young Emile Heskey.


    In the tough, physically demanding world of the English lower leagues, having extra strikers is always a smart move. With that in mind, he took a trip to Kristiansund, Norway, and returned with a bargain¡ªOle Gunnar Solskj?r.


    The young forward was signed for just NOK 150,000, which translated to a mere ¡ê14,000!


    What an absolute bargain!


    The next step was to find fresh talent for City. As everyone knows, it¡¯s better to be well-prepared than to scramble later.


    First, Richard flew to West Ham United to negotiate with 13-year-old John Terry and his family. At the time, Terry was playing for West Ham, attending school, and training at the Boleyn Ground. Richard intercepted Terry and his family, hoping to persuade them.


    The current system for youth development was straightforward¡ªthe Youth Training Scheme (YTS) in the United Kingdom, which was an on-the-job training program for school leavers aged 16 and 17, managed by the Manpower Services Commission.


    Since John Terry was only 13 years old, Richard could not offer him a full professional contract yet, but he promised Terry a spot training with the first team once he turned eligible, providing a clear path to professional football. This is his promise as City chairman.


    Second, Richard turned his attention to Rio Ferdinand, who was also in the West Ham United YTS program. Richard already had a connection with Ferdinand¡¯s family, thanks to Les Ferdinand, making the negotiation much easier. The discussions were smooth and straightforward.


    Third was William Gallas. Richard leveraged his connections at AS Cannes to secure a player from Caen named William Gallas. Through his relationship with the club, which had developed due to previous transfers like those of Zinedine Zidane and Patrick Vieira, they agreed to the deal. Of course, Richard covered the costs.


    Lastly, Richard set his sights on Paul Robinson, the 14-year-old goalkeeper who had not yet made his professional debut but was playing for the Leeds United youth academy. Richard¡¯s plan was to bring him on board for City¡¯s future, further strengthening the squad with young talent.


    The fourth marked the end of City¡¯s transfer activity.


    Since the League One season began on August 12, the team was scheduled to start their official training in late July. However, before that, the focus was on the World Cup, followed by the preseason preparations.


    Richard also decided to reopen Manchester City and allowed all the departments he had temporarily shut down to resume their operations.


    Employees returned to work after their paid vacation, and the city gates were once again open to the public, giving fans a chance to see what was happening inside. Slowly, supporters began gathering around the stadium, eager to witness the team¡¯s next Chapter.


    The reasoning behind this move was simple: Richard wanted to divert media attention, especially after the extensive clean-up he had just carried out within the club. With the World Cup taking center stage, it provided the perfect distraction, allowing the media to focus on the tournament instead of Manchester City.


    As expected, only the die-hard fans¡ªthose subscribed to the official City magazine¡ªkept a close eye on the club during this period.


    City¡¯s marketing and public relations team first reached out to City Official Magazine, and soon, an important piece of news began to spread among die-hard City fans¡ªAlan Ball had finally resigned!


    Finally!


    In reality, he had already stepped down a few days earlier, but his official statement was only released after City resumed operations.


    Addressing the fans and media, he declared: "The pressure of this job has become overwhelming, not only due to the expectations I¡¯ve placed on myself but also those from the fans and the club. For the sake of my well-being, I have already submitted my resignation and made the decision to step down from managing Manchester City."


    His resignation sent shockwaves through many Manchester City supporters. For some, however, it was a long-awaited moment of relief.


    A number of fans even openly celebrated his departure. But the surprises didn¡¯t stop there. Shortly after the announcement of Alan Ball and his team¡¯s exit, another bombshell dropped that stunned the fanbase. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard had managed to save the club ¡ê2 million¡ªand wasted no time reinvesting ¡ê100,000 into firing the entire scouting department, sparking a massive uproar!


    Before the dust could settle, another shockwave hit: City announced a transfer list that included 12 players¡ªLee Crooks, Gerard Wiekens, Michael Brown, Terry Cooke, Neil Heaney, Kevin Horlock, Gary Mason, Lee Bradbury, Michael Branch, Chris Greenacre, Mark Robins, and Craig Russell.


    Twelve players in total!


    Peter Pettigrew, furious at the changes, stormed off to find Richard, ranting about how unfair and outrageous the decisions were. But what did Richard do? He simply let the "mouse" vent at the gates while security stood watch. Left with no other option, Pettigrew was left outside, stewing in frustration.


    Then came yet another announcement: the new manager for the upcoming season in the second division would be Martin O¡¯Neill.


    City fans were livid. Several former Manchester City players publicly criticized Richard¡¯s decision, claiming that O¡¯Neill was a poor choice and that the job should have gone to a club legend like Tony Book or Glyn Pardoe.


    Richard, initially stunned, couldn¡¯t help but burst into laughter. "I thought, where have they been all this time? Turns out, they were just waiting for my invitation!"


    There was a demonstration at the City gates, but not many fans showed up. The climax came when Richard was about to head back to the Holiday Inn, where he was staying. A fan managed to stop his car and began criticizing him.


    "Nobody is quite sure what¡¯s happened at the club this time, but Tony is our own man. Why didn¡¯t you choose him? You¡¯re just like Swales and Lee, chasing instant success!"


    The security team moved in, but Richard raised his hand, signaling them to stop, and simply smiled at the fan. "It seems people have short memories," he said, shaking his head. What he wanted to remind the fan of was Tony Book¡¯s performance for City in 1980, but he decided against mentioning it.


    Turning back to the fan, Richard said, "Now, at Maine Road, we have to start all over again¡ªbringing in a new manager, new staff, and new players. The whole process starts fresh. Thank you." He nodded toward the security before walking away.


    The explanation did not satisfy the City fans. What did he mean by "start all over again"?


    So far, all he had done was fire and sell players!


    For the fans, what Richard had done recently was nothing short of bold. His actions had taken them on a rollercoaster ride, full of unexpected twists and turns.


    On the same day, however, Richard released news of new signings, arriving one after another.


    While City fans were familiar with stars like Sol Campbell among the new arrivals, it was enough to lift their spirits.


    A Premier League player? He managed to poach him?


    But when they saw the next signings, they were taken aback.


    Ronaldo?


    Roberto Carlos?


    Cafu?


    Mike Phelan?


    Ole Gunnar Solskj?r?


    Who are they?


    In 1994, the Brazilian league was not widely known or closely followed in England. It did not receive much media coverage, and most local fans, other than those following the English league, primarily focused on Serie A and La Liga, which were considered the top leagues at the time.


    The club¡¯s statement continued: "The total transfer amount reached ¡ê15 million..."


    And when they heard the amount of money Richard spent, they gasped.


    Just a year ago, Manchester United set the British transfer record by signing Roy Keane for ¡ê3.75 million. It¡¯s worth noting that last summer, the total spending from all 22 Premier League clubs in the transfer market was just over ¡ê60 million.


    Now, a club in the second division is about to spend 25% of that amount on transfers!


    It¡¯s clear that such arithmetic cannot be reduced to simple sums. When Richard said, "We have to start all over again¡ªbringing in a new manager, new staff, and new players," he truly meant it.


    But ¡ê15 million for six players? And most of them are still young and underdeveloped? Is the new chairman crazy?


    Many fans wondered.


    TAP TAP TAP.


    The sound of footsteps echoed, and Richard looked up.


    The press conference, which was to be presented by the new chairman himself, was about to begin.


    Soon, the door was knocked, and after Richard gave a nod, Mr. Heysen opened the door and said, "Mr. Richard, everyone is ready."


    Richard stood up instantly. The press conference was officially announced, and it was going to take place at the Maine Road Training Ground.


    The news of Manchester City undergoing a major overhaul, from the coaching staff down to the first team, should have been big. However, thanks to City being in the second division and the press coinciding with the World Cup opening, there weren¡¯t many journalists from the bigger media agencies; it was more of a local affair.


    The wider media coverage was usually reserved for Premier League teams, so there weren¡¯t many journalists from the bigger agencies, which Richard was happy to see.


    Richard gathered himself and took his seat. He then knocked on the microphone to get everyone¡¯s attention.


    "I just want to say this before you start asking questions," he said in a lighthearted manner, prompting a few chuckles from the crowd.


    "As the new chairman of Manchester City, I understand the weight of this role and the expectations that come with it. This is a club with a rich history, and we have a passionate fanbase. My goal is to restore pride to this club and ensure that we not only compete but excel in all areas, both on and off the pitch."


    "..."


    "I know the road ahead won¡¯t be easy, but I¡¯m confident that with the right strategy, vision, and, most importantly, the support of our fans and staff, we will achieve success. We will build a team that can contend at the highest level, and we will work relentlessly to bring Manchester City back to where it belongs."


    He paused for a moment, letting his words settle before continuing.


    "Premier League."


    A few local reporters scribbled down notes, while others exchanged curious glances.


    "Thanks. I won¡¯t bore you with too many details today. There¡¯s no need for introductions, as you all know me and I¡¯m not a new figure here. Now, you can begin asking questions."


    The reporters raised their hands, and Richard picked a young lady with black-rimmed glasses and blonde hair. He knew beforehand that she was the reporter from City Official Magazine, which is why he chose her.


    "First of all, congratulations on becoming the new chairman," she teased, and Richard simply smiled at her. "I¡¯m Mary from City Official Magazine. Sir, what¡¯s been happening at the club recently? Why did you close down the entire stadium and only just reopen it externally?"


    "I¡¯m rebuilding the entire club," Richard replied.


    English teams generally make summer signings to supplement their existing squads, but a major overhaul of the lineup is rare. Only Blackburn¡¯s big-spending efforts could be considered truly significant in recent years, as they spent money on big names, marking a real overhaul.


    She nodded, expecting an answer, and continued her question, "We¡¯d like to know about your plans for the club moving forward."


    Richard smiled, "Well, right now, the goal is promotion. Next season, the goal is still promotion. That¡¯s the only objective. Only once we¡¯re in the Premier League can I give you a different answer."


    She nodded thoughtfully. "Sir, according to the information I received, you¡¯ve fired all the staff and still haven¡¯t brought in any new ones. How do you expect to compete with other clubs if you don¡¯t even have the proper staff in place?"


    Richard seemed momentarily confused by the question. "Well, I¡¯ll hire capable people, right? Haven¡¯t there already been announcements about O¡¯Neill and his team becoming the new managers?"


    "Why O¡¯Neill, sir? Why not Tony Book? He¡¯s the fans¡¯ choice right now."


    ¡¯Ah, so this is her real question,¡¯ Richard mused to himself, but he countered it with a question of his own. "And let City repeat the results from 1980?" he said, his tone irked.


    He knew it probably wasn¡¯t the best way to respond, but damn, it felt good.


    He continued, "The current City is still haunted by the past, clinging to players who belong in the Hall of Fame. We can¡¯t keep relying on them. I respect Tony Book and Glyn Pardoe, but for now, the decision is final. They¡¯re simply not the right fit to manage Manchester City at this point."


    Another reporter took the opportunity to stand up and ask, "Mr. Maddox, you said you plan to rebuild the club. Does that mean we can expect more transfer news from Manchester City?"


    "No, City¡¯s transfer activity is over. Now, we focus on the preseason." Richard stated firmly before standing up. He looked around the room, nodded at the reporters, and with a polite smile, added, "Thank you all for attending today¡¯s press conference."


    "Mr. Maddox! A quick word!"


    "Mr. Maddox!"


    But Richard, already heading toward the exit, didn¡¯t slow his pace.

 Chapter 84: Rover Group

    Chapter 84: Rover GroupThe 1994 World Cup lasted for 31 days, giving Richard ample time to wrap up several important matters before the start of preseason.


    At the top of his agenda was the bidding war for Rover Group, where he found himself in a fierce battle with BMW for control of the company.


    Richard¡¯s bid stood at ¡ê970 million, while BMW had offered ¡ê960 million.


    The contest had its pros and cons for both sides. Richard, being British, meant that if Rover fell into his hands, the company would remain under British ownership. However, unlike BMW, he lacked experience in the automotive industry, whereas BMW was already a well-established global car manufacturer.


    Despite BMW¡¯s reputation, their ¡ê960 million bid was simply not enough to match Richard¡¯s offer.


    Desperate to sway the decision in their favor, BMW lobbied the sitting Prime Minister, arguing that Richard lacked expertise in the car industry, while BMW had decades of experience. The move was almost laughable.


    At first, the Prime Minister seemed to lean toward BMW, possibly due to behind-the-scenes influence¡ªor even pressure. But when rumors of the government¡¯s bias began to spread, public outrage erupted.


    A massive demonstration took place outside Parliament, forcing the government to reconsider its stance.


    In the end, the decision was taken out of the Prime Minister¡¯s hands.


    At 3:30 PM, Tim Sainsbury, the Minister for Industry, addressed the House of Commons: "With permission, Madam Speaker, I would like to make a statement regarding Maddox Capital¡¯s acquisition of Rover."


    A murmur spread across the chamber.


    "Yes, please..."


    The discussion began, and after careful deliberation, the final announcement was made:


    "This morning, British Aerospace announced its decision to accept Maddox Capital¡¯s offer to acquire its wholly-owned subsidiary, Rover Group Holdings Ltd."


    Finally!


    Since July 1988, British Aerospace (BAe) had owned 80% of Rover Group, having acquired it from the government in a controversial ¡ê150 million deal. However, BAe had long made it clear that they intended to sell Rover once the required five-year ownership period had passed.


    With BAe looking to free up capital to invest in its turboprop and regional jet business, offloading a cash-hungry car manufacturer became a strategic necessity¡ªespecially in the face of rising competition in the global defense sector.


    Following the acquisition, numerous reports¡ªboth academic and from car enthusiasts¡ªcommended Richard for successfully maintaining Rover¡¯s British ownership. His triumph ensured that Rover remained a homegrown British carmaker, a decision widely celebrated by nationalists and industry experts alike.


    "At the time, Sterling was relatively weak, and combined with the UK¡¯s less aggressive labor relations, it made Britain a cheaper place to produce cars than BMW¡¯s German plants. This is a devious scheme from the European carmaker!" an expert raged on television.


    "Indeed," another enthusiast chimed in. "It¡¯s also been suggested that BMW was eager to compete with Mercedes and other premium brands in the SUV market but lacked the resources to develop its own models from scratch. Acquiring Rover Group meant securing the prized Land Rover brand¡ªa strategic move that gave them an instant foothold in the market."


    "Rover was cheap, a few of the BMW directors were very enthusiastic and underestimated what they were buying. It did not have profits or a strong balance sheet, and had been starved of cash for decades. But in terms of capitalisation and the capacity to build 700,000 cars - against BMW¡¯s 500,000 - it was huge."


    CLICK!


    Richard muted the television and leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.


    Saving Rover Group was now his responsibility, and he knew the challenges ahead would be immense.


    "Sigh... I need to understand the company¡¯s current situation first," he muttered before rising from his seat.


    Rover Group¡¯s headquarters was located at Rover Group Centre in Solihull, West Midlands, England, but its main manufacturing and engineering operations were spread across several key sites:


    1. Longbridge, Birmingham ¨C Also known as Austin Rover Works, this was Rover¡¯s main production site for passenger cars.


    2. Solihull Plant ¨C The home of Land Rover production and Rover¡¯s administrative headquarters.


    3. Gaydon Engineering Centre ¨C Located in Gaydon, Warwickshire, this was Rover¡¯s research and development facility.


    Today, Richard was scheduled for an important meeting at Rover Group Centre, with the primary agenda being Honda¡¯s stake in the company.


    Behind the scenes, Rover Group¡¯s management had been scrambling desperately to avoid being swallowed up by the Germans. Now, with Richard taking over, they could finally breathe a sigh of relief.


    As of now, Rover Group¡¯s ownership was structured as follows:


    Maddox Capital ¨C 80%


    Honda ¨C 20%


    This would be Richard¡¯s first official meeting with Rover¡¯s senior management, and the topic on the table was Honda¡¯s desire to increase its stake in the company.


    Since 1989, Honda had owned 20% of Rover, but despite their partnership, the Japanese company believed Rover was capable of surviving independently and was unwilling to take full ownership.


    So why the Honda reluctance to acquire Rover?


    First, it¡¯s been attributed partly to Japanese sensitivities over the question of foreign ownership and no doubt there¡¯s some substance in that: ¡¯Honda would have been fearful of the public opinion if it was seen to take over the last British car maker.¡¯ Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Second, for them, Rover¡¯s British identity was a key part of its appeal. Stripping that away would diminish much of its value to them.


    Now, however Honda had now made a proposal: they offered to increase their stake to 47.5%, with valuing the company at ¡ê600 million.


    The management, fully aware of Rover¡¯s financial difficulties, initially saw Honda¡¯s proposal as a positive opportunity. However, Richard adamantly rejected it.


    "Too low," he stated firmly.


    Despite Richard¡¯s refusal, Rover¡¯s management was eager to maintain their collaboration with Honda. So determined were they that Rover¡¯s boss, George Simpson, booked himself on the first available flight to Tokyo, hoping to persuade Honda to increase their offer.


    Unfortunately, Honda stood firm and flatly rejected the request.


    Following the announcement that Rover had fallen into the hands of Richard Maddox, many British experts lined up to advise the inexperienced chairman on how to transform the "mutt" into a pedigree. However, their wisdom was reportedly ignored.


    After George Simpson returned from Japan, their second meeting was quickly arranged, but this time it would be much more comprehensive.


    Kiyoshi Kawashima, the president of Honda, came all the way from Japan to join the meeting. He was also eager to meet the 27-year-old man who had successfully acquired Rover from the jaws of BMW.


    The meeting kicked off with Richard taking the lead. As everyone settled in, he stood up.


    "Good morning, everyone," Richard began. "Probably some of you have never met me, so I¡¯ll introduce myself again. My name is Richard Maddox, and it¡¯s great to be here with all of you today."


    He looked around the room, his eyes meeting Kiyoshi Kawashima¡¯s. "Mr. Kawashima, it¡¯s a pleasure to have you here today. Honda has played an important role in Rover¡¯s journey, and I look forward to continuing and strengthening our partnership moving forward."


    Mr. Kawashima only nodded without rising from his seat, but Richard didn¡¯t mind. He paused for a moment before continuing.


    "I know we¡¯re at a critical point right now, and there¡¯s a lot of work to be done. But I¡¯m confident that together, we can guide Rover into a strong and successful future. Now, let¡¯s begin with the first agenda item to discuss..."


    The first item on the table was the nomination of a new CEO to replace George Simpson, a decision that had been coming for some time given the struggles Rover had been facing under Simpson¡¯s leadership.


    Richard addressed the room with a calm, professional demeanor. "As we all know, the challenges we¡¯ve faced recently have been immense, and we need strong, fresh leadership to steer this company toward a sustainable future," he began, locking eyes with the room. "I¡¯ve come to the conclusion that it¡¯s time to appoint a new CEO to take us forward. George, I want to thank you for your efforts during such difficult times, but it¡¯s clear that the company needs a new direction."


    George Simpson sat quietly, nodding in understanding, though anyone who looked closely could see the weight of the situation on him.


    He¡¯d been with Rover through thick and thin, but lately, it seemed like the company¡¯s problems had been taking more of a toll on him than the cars. In fact, his hairline had been slowly but surely retreating¡ªso much so, it looked like it was trying to escape the whole situation.


    But despite the obvious stress, George kept his seat, because, well, no one else was brave enough to take on the "hot potato." So, there he was, still holding the reins, even if his hair was trying to give up first.


    "I understand," Simpson said, with a hint of relief in his voice. "It¡¯s been a tough journey, and I respect the decision. I¡¯ll step aside and hand over the reins peacefully. Rover needs a fresh approach now."


    Richard gave him a sincere nod. "Mr. Kawashima, do you have any objections to this decision?"


    Mr. Kawashima shook his head. Since the major shareholder had already spoken, there was no need to oppose this matter.


    Next came the name Richard had nominated for CEO.


    "Alan Mullaly, the former president of Boeing Information, Space & Defense Systems and senior vice president. He held this position until last year, but was forced to resign by their CEO. I¡¯ve nominated him as the new CEO," Richard announced.


    The room fell silent. Everyone was taken aback.


    "Boeing?"


    They exchanged bewildered glances.


    Richard smiled bitterly. After two days and two sleepless nights of searching through hundreds of CVs and doing research, he finally came across this man¡ªa visionary who transformed Ford Motor Company from a near-bankrupt relic into a global powerhouse, making Ford the number one brand in the U.S. and driving soaring profits.


    Mr. Kawashima, clearly surprised, spoke up in fluent English. "Boeing? Are you sure? He¡¯s from aerospace, not automotive. How does he understand the intricacies of running a car company like Rover?"


    Richard shook his head. "British Aerospace¡¯s refined engineering expertise and advanced manufacturing techniques have led to some significant improvements in Rover¡¯s engineering practices. This is why they are confident in their ability to win the luxury SUV market. Some of the management strategies and problem-solving techniques from aerospace manufacturing have been integrated into Rover. That¡¯s one of the key reasons I nominated Mr. Mulally."


    Mr. Kawashima frowned. "Mr. Maddox, I understand your point, but aerospace engineers focus on high-stakes, precision engineering for flight safety. Automotive engineering, is more about mass production, fuel efficiency, handling, and customer needs. The two fields are quite different."


    "I understand," Richard replied, "but right now, what we need is to build on the legacy left by British Aerospace. We¡¯re talking about high-performance materials¡ªlightweight alloys, advanced composites, and other technologies. These were all innovations from BAe, and it would be a missed opportunity to abandon them."


    He paused again, choosing his words carefully. "What I want for Rover is to embrace BAe¡¯s focus on precision and safety, a culture of high-quality engineering, and apply that attention to detail in vehicle assembly and component quality, just like Volvo. This is how we¡¯ll differentiate Rover in the market¡ªby drawing from the best of aerospace engineering principles."


    Everyone in the room was taken aback by Richard¡¯s response. One of the directors, unable to hide his curiosity, asked, "Mr. Maddox, have you ever worked in the automotive industry?"


    Richard paused for a moment, pointing at himself in mock surprise. "What? Me?" he began, then quickly realized what they meant and burst into laughter. "No, no, no, I know all of this from our chief engineer," Richard said.


    It was only then that the room seemed to catch on¡ªthey had seen this young man coming and going, passing through the manufacturing plant since the early hours of the morning, fully immersed in it.


    This young man, who they had initially assumed was simply looking to make a high-profile move or had some hidden agenda by acquiring Rover Group, had come fully prepared. He was genuinely eager to learn and determined to make Rover thrive.


    It seemed they had misjudged him.

 Chapter 85: Losing The Bet

    Chapter 85: Losing The BetThe billion was nearly depleted¡ªspent on Rover Group, his properties, Manchester City, and all the daily expenses.


    When you¡¯re poor, you dream of becoming rich, but when you¡¯re rich, it feels like your needs only grow more demanding and endless, making you crave more and more.


    Richard checked his account balance: ¡ê1,100,000.


    He rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of it all. Before he could think further, his phone rang. When he saw the caller ID, it was Fay.


    Suddenly, it hit him¡ªthe 1994 World Cup. He could make money with that. Wait¡ªdidn¡¯t he have a bet on Bulgaria?


    Excited, he picked up the phone, but before he could speak, he was stunned by what he heard.


    "RICHARD, YOU LOST!!"


    "What?" Richard asked instinctively, still trying to process it.


    "BLOODY HELL, YOUR BET! BULGARIA LOST BADLY AGAINST NIGERIA!!! THEY WERE TRASHED 3-0! 3-0!!!"


    Richard froze. Didn¡¯t that mean his hundred thousand was gone?


    He quickly ended the call and frantically searched for 1994 World Cup data, flipping through documents until he found what he was looking for. He quickly searched for one name:


    Full Name: Hristo Stoichkov


    Country: Bulgaria


    Age: 28 years old


    Position: Left Winger, Striker


    Club: Barcelona


    ¡¯What was wrong here?¡¯


    Just then, his phone rang again. He picked it up without thinking twice. On the other end, he heard a loud cheer.


    "RICHARD, YOU¡¯RE FAMOUS NOW!!!"


    Richard pulled the phone away from his ear, confused. He glanced at the caller ID¡ªit was still Fay.


    He brought the phone back to his ear, asking, "What do you mean?"


    "You lost your bet, and people already know about it!" Fay exclaimed.


    Richard sighed. But¡ªno, no. He was sure of it. 1994 was the prime time for Hristo Stoichkov.


    This was the year the Bulgarian forward had taken the World Cup by storm, showcasing his skill and power on the field. He was one of the standout players of the tournament¡ªhe was certain of that.


    He furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of it all. He couldn¡¯t remember every detail, but certain moments from that World Cup were crystal clear¡ª1994 was one of the craziest tournaments in history, and Richard had certainly been left with deep impressions from it.


    First, there was the shock of Diego Maradona¡¯s expulsion from the tournament after failing a drug test that revealed ephedrine, a weight-loss drug, in his system.


    Then, there was Colombia¡ªdespite sky-high expectations thanks to their thrilling style and impressive qualifying campaign, they faltered, dogged by the influence of betting syndicates and drug cartels.


    "And the third... Andr¨¦s Escobar," Richard mumbled, his voice trailing off. "He was tragically shot to death upon his return to Colombia."


    That¡¯s why he was so sure that Hristo Stoichkov, the Bulgarian winger, would be one of the standout players of the tournament¡ªhis name was synonymous with excellence.


    "What? What did you just say?" Fay¡¯s voice crackled through the phone, sharp with confusion.


    "Nothing," Richard muttered, snapping out of his thoughts and forcing himself to focus. "How is it over there?" he asked.


    Instead of answering, Fay switched to speaker mode. Instantly, Richard was hit with the chaotic noise of a packed betting shop¡ªloud chatter, bursts of laughter, and the clinking of glasses.


    "Oi, did you hear? The golden boy actually lost a bet!" someone jeered, followed by a round of mocking cheers.


    "Hah! And here I thought he had some secret formula for winning. Guess he¡¯s just like the rest of us after all!" another voice chimed in, dripping with sarcasm.


    A loud THUD echoed¡ªsomeone slapping a betting slip against the counter. "Should¡¯ve cashed out while you had the chance, Maddox! Hah!"


    More laughter erupted. Someone whistled. "You think he¡¯s crying right now?"


    Another voice, half-laughing, half-serious, muttered, "You know, I actually started betting on whatever he picked. Thank God I didn¡¯t this time."


    Fay¡¯s voice came through clearer now. "The news is everywhere. People know about it and are celebrating. Your bet is gone."


    "So, you¡¯re saying people would lose their minds if I placed another bet, right?" Richard asked out of nowhere.


    "...What?"


    "Then let¡¯s double the bet."


    "Wait¡ªwhat are you up to this time?"


    "Do what you usually do with my bets. I¡¯m still going with Bulgaria. This time, ¡ê200,000." S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "You¡¯re insane! They haven¡¯t won a single match in their last five games!"


    Richard chuckled. "And do you think I¡¯m joking? Think about it¡ªhave I ever made a move without thinking it through?"


    "Ah..." Fay said, her tone laced with sudden thought. But he was still skeptical. "How confident are you about this?"


    "Relax. My confidence isn¡¯t blind," Richard replied, his voice steady. "The next match is against Greece. If they win, they¡¯ll regain their confidence. And since Argentina lost their spiritual leader, they¡¯re playing like chickens without a head. As long as they win the next two matches, Bulgaria will qualify. Isn¡¯t that right?"


    Hearing his nonchalant response, Fay sighed. He had initially thought he might be privy to some secret, maybe shady information or even match-fixing, but after hearing the logic behind it, he gave up on trying to persuade him.


    Richard, on the other hand, didn¡¯t feel the need to explain much more¡ªhe was exhausted. After all, he had just returned from the Rover Group Center, and the weight of the journey from the West Midlands to Manchester was catching up with him.


    So, after arriving at the Holiday Inn, the place where he was staying, he slept like a log.


    Time passed, and suddenly, through the thin walls of his room, he heard an uproar.


    "GOAL!!!!"


    The sound of cheering and shouting shot through the quiet hotel, jolting him awake. He sat up in bed, his heart racing from the shock.


    "FUCK!" Richard muttered angrily, still disoriented from exhaustion. He grabbed the pillow next to him and hurled it at the wall in frustration.


    "I thought there was an earthquake or something, goddamn it!" he grumbled.


    But his voice was drowned out by the deafening cheers and shouts from the neighboring room. The celebration echoed through the walls, relentless and loud.


    Rubbing his temples, Richard flopped back onto his bed, trying to block out the noise. But no matter how hard he tried, sleep wouldn¡¯t come


    The constant shouting made it impossible to settle. In the end, he turned on the radio, hoping the soft music would help lull him back to sleep. With this, he closed his eyes, praying for a bit of peace and quiet.


    [...Bulgaria actually got off on the wrong foot when they arrived in America for the 1994 FIFA World Cup. Nigeria lit up the Cotton Bowl in Dallas to kick off their Group D campaign with a 3-0 win. Rashidi Yekini, Daniel Amokachi, and Emmanuel Amunike all hit the scoresheet...]


    A man¡¯s voice sounded on the radio.


    [...But a trip to Chicago to take on Greece at Soldier Field helped Penev get the Lavovete back on the right track. His entertaining lineup only needed five minutes to break the deadlock as Stoichkov fired in a penalty. The striker also scored from 12 yards again in the second half...]


    [...Yordan Letchkov followed up Stoichkov¡¯s double before substitute Daniel Borimirov got in on the act. It was quite the statement performance after losing to Nigeria. It also set Bulgaria up to face Argentina in Dallas, who had just lost their captain, Diego Maradona...]


    Richard instantly opened his eyes. ¡¯FUCK! Can¡¯t you let me sleep for once?!¡¯


    Just as the thought passed through his mind, another ring from his phone broke the silence. He already knew who it was. With a sigh, he rejected the call, turned off the radio, and tried his best to get back to sleep.


    The next four days followed the same routine. Richard traveled to Maine Road to oversee Manchester City, and when he wasn¡¯t at the club, he stayed in constant contact with his management team at Rover Group.


    There was a reason he chose to stay more involved in Manchester City rather than Rover Group.


    First, Rover Group already had a mature and capable management team, so his presence there wasn¡¯t as crucial. Second, he didn¡¯t have much experience in the car industry, so it made more sense for him to delegate to the experts. He would only step in for major decisions where his input was essential.


    At Manchester City, he was hands-on, managing the day-to-day operations, while with Rover Group, his role was more strategic¡ªguiding them through major changes and overseeing the bigger picture.


    Night fell, and Richard continued his deep dive into the car industry, particularly focused on Rover Group. As he sat alone in his room, the only sound that accompanied him was the quiet hum of the radio.


    RING.


    His phone rang, but he quickly muted it, preferring not to be disturbed. The room fell silent once again, with only the radio filling the stillness.


    [...FIFA banned Maradona from the remainder of the 1994 USA World Cup after an anti-doping test revealed ephedrine in his system. His absence proved costly for La Albiceleste, who went on to lose 2-0 to Bulgaria. Stoichkov and Nasko Sirakov scored the goals...]


    [...Argentina still led Group D until Sirakov¡¯s dramatic goal in the 91st minute. His strike pushed Argentina down to third, while Nigeria claimed the top spot in a three-way tie, each team with six points. Bulgaria moved into second place, thanks to their victory in Dallas...]


    With this, it¡¯s fixed. Bulgaria advances to the knockout stage. Richard nodded, satisfied with the result.

 Chapter 86: Recruit People

    Chapter 86: Recruit PeopleRichard was working late at Maine Road, accompanied by the radio as usual, listening to reports about how Mexico had secured a spot in the quarterfinals after their victory over Bulgaria in the Round of 16.


    [...In reward for forcing Argentina to reach the knockout rounds as the top-ranked third-place side, Bulgaria met Mexico in the last 16. Stoichkov would again prove to be the architect of their efforts in East Rutherford with the opening goal inside six minutes at Giants Stadium...]


    [...The striker unleashed an incredible effort to break the deadlock from the edge of the area. Yet a penalty from Alberto Garcia Aspe drew El Tri level and as no side could find a second, the tie headed for a shoot-out. This time, it was Borislav Mihaylov stealing the headlines...]


    RING!


    His phone vibrated. This time, he picked it up immediately.


    "Why did you take so long to answer?!" Fay shouted, making Richard instinctively pull the phone away from his ear.


    "Shit... can you talk quietly?" Richard snapped back, rubbing his ear in annoyance.


    Fay let out an exasperated sigh. "How do you know that?"


    "Know what?"


    "Bulgaria! Bulgaria!!!" he blurted out, his voice rising with excitement. "Holy shit, is this real? Are they actually through?"


    "Of course, they got through," Richard said casually. "And they¡¯ll go through again¡ªstraight to the semifinals."


    "Hah! You¡¯re crazy," Fay scoffed. "You know the reigning champions are waiting for them now. There¡¯s no way they¡¯ll get past them."


    Indeed, in the quarterfinals, Bulgaria¡¯s next opponent was Die Mannschaft¡ªGermany, the reigning world champions, who had claimed their third title at Italia ¡¯90.


    "That¡¯s on you if you don¡¯t believe me," Richard said with a shrug. Then, after a brief pause, he asked, "By the way, how much did I make from their last three matches?"


    "¡ê1,8 million"


    "Then good. Bet half of it on Bulgaria. The other half¡ªplease transfer it to my account."


    Fay was surprised. Usually, Richard went all in¡ªthat¡¯s how he earned the nickname Richard Roller at every World Cup. People loved watching him lose, like when Bulgaria was shockingly beaten by Nigeria.


    "Why not all of it?" Fay asked, confused.


    "Because I need the money."


    "Oh, the Rover," Fay said knowingly. "I must say, trying to outbid BMW and throwing in billions... I¡¯m impressed, you know."


    It could be said that he had been there since the beginning, back when Richard wasn¡¯t rich¡ªjust another gambler chasing the next big win.


    "But none of it matters if I can¡¯t hold on to it. That¡¯s why I¡¯m busy," Richard sighed. Then, as he mentioned Rover Group, something clicked in his mind.


    "Hey, Fay," Richard called.


    "What?"


    "How is it at Paddy Power?"


    "It¡¯s fine here. Why?"


    "No, I mean¡ªwhat¡¯s it like working there? How¡¯s the salary? The commission? Is it good? Is the pressure high? Anything you can tell me?"


    "What are you getting at?"


    Richard coughed. "Nothing, just curious. Forget it if you don¡¯t want to share."


    "No, it¡¯s fine," Fay said after a moment. "Most of the time, it¡¯s pretty idle¡ªexcept when there¡¯s a World Cup, the Euros, or another big event."


    "Aren¡¯t you bored?"


    "What? Why do you suddenly care?" Fay narrowed his eyes. "Don¡¯t tell me¡ª"


    "Hey... what if you helped me?" Richard cut him off before he could finish.


    "Helped you? What do you mean?"


    "Yeah. You know¡ªRover, Manchester City¡ª"


    Fay frowned. "You know I never learned anything about that kind of stuff, right?"


    "But you can learn," Richard countered. "People can learn. Moreover, it¡¯s been years since you became manager at Paddy Power. You¡¯ve been there long enough¡ªwhy not shake things up a bit? Don¡¯t you want to try something new?"


    "Which one are you talking about? The car or football?"


    "Football, of course."


    Fay shook his head, audible on the other end. "Still... this is way out of my league."


    "What do you mean, ¡¯out of your league¡¯?" Richard shot back. "You think everyone just knows everything from the start? I didn¡¯t. Hell, I still don¡¯t. Take Rover Group, for example¡ªdo you think I knew anything about cars? I didn¡¯t. I just went for it, and boom, now I own it. I¡¯m willing to figure it out. Besides, you¡¯ve been managing things at a betting company for years. You¡¯ve got more experience than me. You¡¯ve got the skills. Why not take the next step?"


    "..." S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Seeing no response, Richard leaned in. "Hey, what about Chief Operations? Chief Marketing? So, who¡¯s it going to be, huh?"


    When the word "Chief" was mentioned, who wouldn¡¯t be intrigued?


    Of course, Fay was tempted. "You serious?"


    "I¡¯m dead serious."


    Fay wanted to say yes, but as he thought about his personal relationship with Richard and his own background, he hesitated.


    Working at Paddy Power had taught him many things¡ªthings that were very different from his time at William Hall, where everything was tightly controlled by bureaucracy. Here, because the company was still in its early stages, there were many personal factors to consider. It wasn¡¯t just about business decisions¡ªit was about taking risks and dealing with the "what ifs."


    This made it harder for Fay, who was used to thinking in scenarios and following a clear structure.


    [...Bulgaria returned to New Jersey and Giants Stadium for their quarter-final tie at the 1994 World Cup. This time, the reigning champions awaited Penev¡¯s squad after Germany came through a 3-2 affair with Belgium..]


    The silence on the other end, mixed with the background noise of the radio, made Richard sigh. "Fine... how about this..." He paused for a moment before continuing, "What if you oversee Maddox Capital for me?"


    "Maddox Capital? Your investment company?"


    "Yeah, that¡¯s right..." Richard thought for a second before continuing, "The work isn¡¯t too demanding. It¡¯s mostly just overseeing things. You¡¯d monitor the stocks, keep an eye on the good companies in the portfolio, and make sure the investments are performing well. You¡¯d report back to me regularly. If there¡¯s any issue or something urgent, you¡¯d bring it to my attention."


    Fay paused, processing the offer. "So, just making sure everything¡¯s on track? Keeping an eye on the numbers, but no real decision-making?"


    "Exactly," Richard confirmed. "I¡¯ll make the big calls, but besides overseeing things, you¡¯d also need to learn. You said you hesitated because of your background and skills, right? So why not take some courses or certifications


    "That..." Fay was stunned. "That sounds feasible, I think."


    "Great, it¡¯s settled then. When can you start working?"


    With that, one weight was lifted off Richard¡¯s shoulders.


    Still, when he thought about Maddox Capital, most of its assets were in property¡ªhotels and land.


    Richard paused for a moment, deep in thought, before his eyes lit up. He remembered the guy from Islington when he was purchasing the all the houses there.


    "Who was it again? Stuart? Yes, that¡¯s right¡ªStuart! He was the one who handled my purchase and managed everything. He took care of all the details."


    This was Richard¡¯s first real plunge into the property game, and the complexities of bulk purchases, paperwork, and negotiations were proving challenging.


    Stuart had streamlined everything¡ªvetting properties, handling legalities¡ªespecially since he had managed to buy dozens of houses from the government all at once, which had made things more complicated. But Stuart had a talent for making it all look easy, and that was exactly what Richard needed.


    "Maybe I should give him a call," Richard muttered to himself, already thinking ahead. "He¡¯d be perfect for managing the hotels and land. A real godsend for overseeing all the properties under Maddox Capital."


    He reached for his phone and dialed the number he had saved years ago, hoping Stuart was still available.


    "Come on, pick up..." Richard murmured under his breath, tapping his fingers impatiently on the desk.


    CLICK!


    "Hello, Islington Council. How can I help you?"


    "Yes, I¡¯m¡ª" Richard began, now searching for someone to help build his company¡¯s future.


    In the background, the radio continued to play, but no one was really listening.


    [...Bulgaria started as the better of the two teams, twice striking the post in their search for a breakthrough... Letchkov¡¯s aggressiveness showed early in the second half, his rash challenge bringing J¨¹rgen Klinsmann to the ground. But Bulgaria refused to be beaten. With just fifteen minutes left, Stoichkov¡ª¡¯The Dagger¡¯¡ªrose to the occasion and pulled his squad level...]


    [...GOAL!!! Stoichkov drew Andreas M?ller into committing a foul 25 yards from the German net. His swerving free-kick flew past Bodo Illgner at the near post! And just minutes later, Bulgaria struck again! Letchkov¡¯s diving header completed the turnaround, sending the small Balkan nation into the semi-finals...]


    The result was a shock to the system for Germany, who had not returned home before the semi-finals since the 1962 World Cup. Die Mannschaft were far from their best in the USA. Yet few expected anything but Germany and their winning machine to overawe Bulgaria.


    The deal with Stuart was swift. Working in government had its downsides¡ªtoo many rules, slow pay, and limited career growth compared to the private sector. The position Richard offered was far more lucrative, making Stuart¡¯s decision an easy one. Without much hesitation, he accepted.


    Satisfied with how things were falling into place, Richard leaned back in his chair¡ªonly to be interrupted by another call from Fay.


    "You lucky bastard! Your ¡ê1.8 million just turned into ¡ê7.4 million!" Fay¡¯s voice was filled with excitement. "So, what¡¯s next? Do you want to bet on Italy in the semi-final?"


    Richard exhaled, shaking his head. "No. That¡¯s enough for this World Cup. Transfer the money to my account now."


    Fay was surprised. "Wait¡ªyou¡¯re not betting on the semi-finals or the final?"


    "Not just that," Richard said, his tone firm. "I¡¯m quitting betting for good."


    Fay was stunned into silence. "You? Quitting?"


    Richard sighed. "Think about it¡ªwhat do you think the FA will say if a club owner gets caught betting? Right now, I¡¯m lucky. City isn¡¯t in the Premier League yet, and none of my players are involved with Bulgaria or their past opponents. But once we get there? I¡¯ll be in serious trouble."


    "Premier League? Aren¡¯t you getting ahead of yourself?"


    Richard clicked his tongue in annoyance. Why did everyone keep underestimating his City? It seemed like he needed to show them next season just how terrifying Manchester City could be.


    Shaking his head, he refocused. "The important thing is¡ªI¡¯m done with betting. World Cup, Euros, whatever it is, I¡¯m out. That¡¯s why you¡¯d better get over here quick and help me. Your ATM machine is gone for good now, hahahaha!" Richard burst into laughter.


    It was no secret that every World Cup or Euros, Fay made a killing in commissions from his insane bets.


    To be honest, Richard had a strong feeling Brazil would win this World Cup. But with players like Ronaldo, Cafu, and Roberto Carlos in the squad, he wasn¡¯t willing to take any chances. One wrong move, and it could turn into a scandal. He didn¡¯t want to hand his enemies the bullet they could use to shoot him in the future.


    "That¡¯s why," Richard continued, leaning back, "since I¡¯m quitting betting, why don¡¯t you get your ass over here quickly?"


    Fay went silent for a moment.


    "Well...You¡¯ve got a point."

 Chapter 87: Pre-Season Planning

    Chapter 87: Pre-Season PlanningOn July 13, coinciding with the World Cup semi-finals, O¡¯Neill and his team arrived in Manchester.


    A press conference was arranged to officially announce the signing of the new manager. The event went smoothly without any incidents.


    Among the attendees was Miss Heysen, the club secretary, who had been invited to do a special cover story on the appointment of the phenomenal former Wycombe Wanderers manager.


    Manager: Martin O¡¯Neill


    Assistant Manager: John Robertson


    Coach: Steve Walford


    Youth and Reserves Coach: Willie McStay


    Goalkeeping Coach: Terry Gennoe


    In addition to Richard own internal staff:


    Coach: Ren¨¦ Meulensteen


    Player/Coach: Mike Phelan


    Coach: Steve McClaren


    And finally, the last addition¡ªyouth team manager Dom¨¨nec Torrent, who was recommended by City¡¯s general manager, John Maddock. Richard approved the appointment without hesitation.


    O¡¯Neill and his team signed a three-year contract, with an annual salary of ¡ê40,000. Additionally, they would receive a ¡ê50,000 bonus if City secured promotion.


    Afterward, he and his team began their work as Manchester City¡¯s manager. Since the players were divided between the World Cup and vacation, he could only watch the tapes to assess the squad.


    Four people were seated in the meeting room: Richard, O¡¯Neill, John Robertson, and Steve Walford.


    "So, Mr. O¡¯Neill, what do you think of the squad right now? What do we need to do in order to compete for promotion?" Richard asked as he took his seat.


    "Mr. Maddox, please, just call me Martin," O¡¯Neill replied. "We¡¯ll be working together for a long time, and it¡¯s better for our relationship if we keep things informal."


    Richard nodded, "Then you can just call me Richard, to keep things fair."


    O¡¯Neill smiled at his team. "There¡¯s a lot of work ahead of us if we want to be competitive for promotion. After reviewing the players, it¡¯s clear where our weaknesses are..."


    Richard became interested. "Where is that?"


    "Midfield," O¡¯Neill said, shaking his head. "Next season will be very tough. The young Brazilian is good, but we also need to make sure they adapts to the Manchester weather first. As for the rest, we have some good individuals, but we need more depth, especially in the midfield¡ªjust like I said."


    Richard nodded and leaned back in his chair. "Martin, let¡¯s not jump straight to new players. Let¡¯s start with the Manchester City players who are still here. How did they perform last season?"


    O¡¯Neill sighed, taking a moment to reflect. "Where do I even start? Well, I watched their games, and honestly, if anyone asked me, I¡¯d say the issue stems from the manager."


    O¡¯Neill gestured toward a screen in the room and popped in a tape. "Let me show you an example," he said as the footage began to roll. "Gio Kinkladze¡ªhe was completely misused."


    "Oh, care to explain?"


    Indeed, when City bought him, Kinkladze was the kind of player who seemed to choose exactly how dangerous he wanted to be, meaning you could only get near him if he let you. Yet, this wasn¡¯t replicated at Maine Road for quite some time.


    In fact, just after Kinkladze was transferred out of City, following struggles with inconsistency and a lack of goals in his final thirteen matches, he immediately scored his first international goal as Georgia hammered Wales 5-0 in Tbilisi. That goal was a stunning 20-yard chip over Neville Southall.


    "Kinkladze¡¯s style, known for his dribbling and creativity, didn¡¯t quite mesh with the traditional English 4-4-2 system that City often used," O¡¯Neill explained.


    "He struggled to find the right position, often being forced into roles that didn¡¯t play to his strengths. Look here at minute 52," O¡¯Neill pointed at the screen.


    "See? He¡¯s dropping too deep. Kinkladze was never known for his defensive work, and Alan Ball struggled to strike the right balance in terms of positioning and player roles. This led to a lack of cohesion and effectiveness, and you can see how it didn¡¯t work."


    "Then there¡¯s our defense," O¡¯Neill continued. "While they weren¡¯t being protected by the midfield, they also weren¡¯t doing their job well enough. Too often, they were caught out of position, and we paid the price for that."


    Soon, O¡¯Neill explained in great detail why City had suffered relegation twice in consecutive seasons. After hearing all of that, Richard was satisfied with the explanation.


    "Alright, thank you for the explanation," He said, glancing at the players O¡¯Neill had requested for transfer. "Shay Given from Blackburn, Tony Grant from Everton, and Ian Cox from Carshalton Athletic. Those are the three players you asked me to bring in, and I¡¯ve secured them. Care to tell me more about them?"


    "Of course," O¡¯Neill replied. "All three of these players are ones I¡¯ve been following since my time at Wycombe. I¡¯ve kept an eye on them over the years. I particularly like Ian Cox¡¯s no-nonsense playing style, and with Campbell¡¯s intelligence, solid tackling, and passing ability, they both have a real chance to make an impact in any game."


    "Now, the goalkeeper position is also a concern. The two we currently have¡ªTony Coton, who¡¯s 33, and Nicky Weaver, who¡¯s only 17¡ªaren¡¯t ideal. Tony¡¯s age is starting to show, and while Nicky has potential, he¡¯s far too young and not ready to step into the starting role just yet. As for Shay Given, he¡¯s the best option we could get."


    "It¡¯s just that..." O¡¯Neill hesitated for a moment, which made Richard curious.


    "What is it?" Richard asked.


    "It¡¯s just that we need to check on Given¡¯s arm injury. It¡¯s better if he¡¯s fully fit, at 100 percent, before we can play him," O¡¯Neill explained.


    "Ah, indeed." Richard finally realized the gravity of the situation.


    Even in 1994, it was hard to fathom the neglect of medical care in English football.


    Many of the traditional, top clubs still had team doctors¡ªor athletic trainers¡ªwho were often there as a reward for long-term service, rather than based on actual medical expertise.


    Who, as a fan, could have imagined that a groundskeeper, after years of service, might end up becoming the "team doctor" for a top-tier club?


    This was a reflection of the deeply conservative nature of English football clubs.


    Years later, a player with a decade-long career at Liverpool, Redknapp, was dismissed by the club simply because he couldn¡¯t put up with the "unqualified medical staff" and decided to seek proper treatment elsewhere.


    This was seen as "heretical" by traditional English clubs, and as a result, the club parted ways with a ten-year veteran.


    Richard, however, inherently rejected the conservative mindset of English clubs. He had no intention of clinging to outdated traditions.


    For him, ensuring the health and wellbeing of his players¡ªwho were now worth millions¡ªmeant embracing the most advanced and professional medical department available. The future of the club depended on it.


    Handing players valued at hundreds of thousands to those who couldn¡¯t even be considered mediocre doctors was utterly incomprehensible, yet this remained a commonplace phenomenon in English football.


    Take City, for example. Probably the only qualified doctor in the club was the former director, Sidney Rose, who also worked as a surgeon. However, despite his credentials, his role was limited to overseeing improvements to the club¡¯s medical facilities, not managing the day-to-day medical care of the players.


    Despite that, Richard didn¡¯t dare treat the physio staff the same way as the scouting department. At the current time, having a dedicated physio team was still quite rare in football.


    As long as he hadn¡¯t found the right one yet, it was better to stick with the current physio team. Once he found the right person, he would ask them to bring in their colleagues, and only then would he consider revamping the physio department.


    ¡¯They¡¯re the ones working behind the scenes to make it all happen,¡¯ Richard muttered to himself.


    "I¡¯ll think about it. Thank you for the reminder," Richard said, nodding.


    O¡¯Neill gave a small nod in return before Richard changed the subject. "Then Martin, tell me about Cafu, Roberto Carlos, and Ronaldo. What do you think after watching them play on the tapes?"


    At Richard¡¯s question, O¡¯Neill glanced at his colleagues, seemingly speechless for a moment. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    John Robertson, the assistant manager, was the first to speak. "Richard, I think I¡¯ll explain this one."


    Richard nodded eagerly, waiting as Robertson started playing the tapes. The first match that appeared was S?o Paulo vs Palmeiras.


    "I¡¯ve already watched dozens of tapes of Cafu¡¯s games, and to be honest, I¡¯m really impressed," Robertson began. "He¡¯s one of the rare players who loves to overlap, sprint down the wing, and deliver dangerous crosses¡ª"


    "And don¡¯t forget his dribbling ability," Coach Steve Walford chimed in, admiring how easily Cafu had outpaced Cleber, Palmeiras¡¯ defender, in the footage.


    "That¡¯s right," Robertson agreed with his colleague, then he continued, "But what impressed me the most in this match is that this is truly what a full-back should be. He was involved in all four goals, scoring one and helping S?o Paulo dispatch Palmeiras 4-2. If nothing happens to him, I can confidently say he will cement himself as one of the world¡¯s finest full-backs."


    "And he¡¯s similar to Roberto Carlos here," Robertson said, stunned as he watched the video where Roberto Carlos unleashed a powerful shot. "Holy shit, his kicking power is something else. He¡¯s also equally comfortable in attack and defense. Look here."


    In the video, Roberto Carlos made overlapping runs, delivering pinpoint crosses while his pace and strength allowed him to track back and defend when needed.


    They all had one question in their minds: ¡¯How did a player like this go unnoticed in Europe?¡¯


    Excitement grew among them as they imagined the prospect. Just picture this season¡ªwhen playing both home and away, instead of their wingers, it would be their full-backs wreaking havoc. Just how stunned would they be?


    That would be hilarious!


    Richard was satisfied with the answer, but then he suddenly became serious. "And what about Ronaldo?"


    "Ah, him?" Robertson replied, before falling silent.


    Richard waited, unsure of what was going on, but no one spoke.


    Just as he was about to ask again, O¡¯Neill finally broke the silence. "To be honest, I¡¯ve never seen a player like him before..."


    Indeed, the combination of brute strength, speed, and complete mastery of the ball was unlike anything seen before¡ªsuch a degree of skill and power had never come together in one player.


    "...Bwahahahaha," Richard burst into laughter as he finally understood why people were so bewildered when they saw how Ronaldo played.


    ¡¯They call him Il Fenomeno for a reason after all,¡¯ he mused.

 Chapter 88: The Scrimmage

    Chapter 88: The Scrimmage"Is everything running smoothly at UEFA?"


    Richard placed a call to Lennart Johansson, a member of UEFA¡¯s Legal & Disciplinary Committee who previously had issues in the court with him, to discuss the controversy surrounding Manchester City¡¯s decision to register more than four foreign players for the 1994/1995 season.


    "Yes, with UEFA out pressuring the FA and the Premier League, don¡¯t worry. We still have leverage over the disaster and the recent scandal."


    From its inception, the Football League had sought to preserve its local and national identity. When the league was first established in 1888, a rule required players to either be born within six miles of their club¡¯s ground or have lived in the area for at least two years.


    Even at the time, regulations still limited clubs to fielding only three foreign players, including non-European players. However, the Bosman ruling by the European Court of Justice had changed everything¡ªgiving Richard the confidence to challenge this restriction.


    Speculation was growing that Manchester City would become the first club to break this rule by fielding more than three foreign players.


    Initially, the Premier League insisted that they wouldn¡¯t change the rules to allow more than three foreign players to play in England. However, Richard believed that City¡ªand every club in England¡ªhad the right to field as many European players as they wanted. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With the Bosman ruling as his legal foundation, he found it easy to challenge UEFA¡¯s restrictive trade practices. So, when Richard mentioned the Bosman case, the FA and the FA Premier League were instantly shaken.


    Martin O¡¯Neill, with Richard¡¯s approval, publicly stated, "We can play all six of our foreign and non-EU players if we want to¡ªand that also applies to every other team tomorrow."


    Premier League chief Rick Parry instantly coordinated with UEFA on the same day and sought legal advice before announcing, "We have advised our clubs that the restrictions governing foreign players can no longer be applied to any citizen of the European Union."


    Even Graham Kelly, the chief of the FA, stated, "Clubs are therefore free to field as many European Union nationals as they see fit. City and other clubs could play as many EU players as they wanted."


    The change to the "foreign player" rule was set to have a massive impact, as the verdict was immediately acknowledged by clubs, who saw it as confirmation that they could field as many European Union players as they wanted.


    Of course, not everyone was happy. Gordon Taylor, chief of the Professional Footballers¡¯ Association (PFA), predictably made an angry reaction to the decision. He feared the influx of foreign imports would undermine the stability and traditions that English football had maintained.


    "I am extremely disappointed," he stated. "There were rules in place from the beginning, and they should not be changed based on knee-jerk reactions to a court ruling and the influence of new, arrogant businessmen, rather than through internal discussions. This will cause chaos."


    But would the FA, UEFA, and the FA Premier League listen to a mere PFA?


    Nonsense!


    So, the issue with foreign players was settled. Still, Rivaldo could not be registered as the non-EU rules could not be changed. However, Richard managed to secure a loan move for him to Swindon Town, so yes, everything was truly settled.


    After putting his phone down, Richard wanted to ensure that nothing went wrong with his team. To be certain, he called John, his general manager, to finalize the last administrative tasks, including arranging a few translators to assist non-English-speaking players and handling their passports.


    "No worries. Even if they¡¯ve only played a match or two in the World Cup, they¡¯re still national team members. Submitting the documents along with a hundred thousand pounds¡ªeverything is set. Don¡¯t worry, there won¡¯t be a single trace left. As long as they perform well, no one will dig into past cases."


    Richard felt relieved. The Brazilian players had never set foot in Europe and didn¡¯t hold EU passports, meaning they needed work permits to transfer to England. Despite being national team members, their appearance records clearly didn¡¯t meet the usual requirements. However, the 75% national team appearance rule was flexible, with plenty of room for interpretation. Plus, English football was riddled with unspoken "black gold" dealings.


    When Richard submitted the documents to the FA¡ªwho were already on high alert because their chief had been secretly threatened by an anonymous figure¡ªthey had little choice but to discreetly comply. With that, the process went through smoothly.


    When Richard arrived at the dressing room, the players were having an internal meeting with the coaching staff. Not wanting to disturb them, he simply leaned against the door and listened.


    "Richard, why don¡¯t you come in?" Jimmy Rouse asked.


    After dealing with the "rat" in the club, he promoted Rouse from youth team dressing room caretaker to kit manager. This meant he was now in charge of overseeing other dressing room caretakers responsible for handling all the team¡¯s equipment, especially the players¡¯ kits.


    Richard shook his head. "There¡¯s already a manager in place, so let them handle it themselves for now."


    Like a gang leader inspecting his crew, O¡¯Neill strolled from left to right along the two lines of players, making eye contact with each one of their calm expressions and nodding gently.


    After completing the circuit, he faced the players directly and spoke softly, "Manchester City has a history of 114 years."


    The players were silent.


    O¡¯Neill continued, "And we have not participated in any major European cup competitions for the past twenty years," he said in a low tone. "And now we¡¯ve fallen embarrassingly from the Premier League, twice, into the Second Division. Do I need to congratulate you for playing in the lower leagues? Is this what you wanted?"


    His words were light and slow, but the last sentence was delivered with solemnity. He intentionally used the simplest English phrasing so that even players new to the language could understand.


    Among the 25 first-team members, only Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu seemed disengaged. But that was because they were still learning English, so when the translator relayed what O¡¯Neill had said, they were taken aback.


    The expressions of the long-standing City players varied. The younger players who had recently been promoted, like Richard Edghill, Tony Vaughan, and Nick Fenton, exchanged looks, as if they finally understood the meaning of their new manager¡¯s words.


    O¡¯Neill suddenly extended his arms and asked, "Aren¡¯t you all happy?"


    The players were dumbfounded.


    And he emphasized to them, "If you think you can take it easy just because this is the Second Division, let me make one thing clear¡ªthrow that thought away. This is professional football. Every match, every opponent, every single minute counts. If you think it¡¯s easier here, you¡¯re making a huge mistake. You¡¯ll be treated the same way, and they¡¯ll fight just as hard to beat you."


    This speech astonished more than twenty players.


    "Campbell."


    When O¡¯Neill called his name, Campbell immediately responded loudly, "Yes?"


    O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, he tossed the captain¡¯s armband to him and stated, "You are the team captain. Curle."


    The previous City captain, Keith Curle, although visibly dissatisfied, had no choice but to accept the decision. After commanding City¡¯s squad for four consecutive years and setting the unwanted record of being relegated twice under his leadership, he understood the reasoning behind it.


    "Curle will be the vice-captain," O¡¯Neill continued. "And the third captain..."


    Everyone in the squad straightened up, waiting for the final decision.


    "Ian Cox."


    All eyes turned to Cox, who had just recently joined the club. He simply nodded in acknowledgment.


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s expression turned serious as he addressed the team in a firm tone, "My expectations for this team are simple: first, discipline; second, discipline; and third, discipline. There are no privileged players here. No matter what challenges you face¡ªon or off the pitch¡ªyou can come to me. But remember, any issues within the team stay within the team. Football is your profession, and it demands not only your skill but also your professionalism and attitude. Is that clear?"


    The players responded in unison, "Understood!"


    O¡¯Neill then turned to the coaching staff behind him, gave a small wave, and introduced them to the squad. "Let me introduce the coaching staff. This is John Robertson, my assistant. Coach Steve Walford, Steve McClaren, Ren¨¦ Meulensteen, and Mike Phelan¡ªwho will be the most senior and will help bridge us in and out of the pitch. You¡¯ll get to know the other coaches during different training sessions."


    Once the introductions were over, O¡¯Neill gave the order, and the team began training, starting with a collective slow jog around the field as a warm-up, while he stood aside watching the players¡¯ performance.


    This is the scrimmage, the first practice match between teammates to find their rhythm.


    Richard stood in the stands, watching as the practice began.


    "Blue team and red team. First, Cafu, Roberto Carlos, Sol Campbell..." O¡¯Neill began giving instructions.


    Blue team: 4-4-2


    (GK) Tony Coton, Roberto Carlos (LB), Sol Campbell (CB), Ian Cox (CB), Cafu (RB), Ian Taylor (MC), Tony Grant (MC), Steve Lomas (LM), Paul Lake (RM), Ronaldo (CF), Emille heskey (CF)


    Red Team: 4-4-2


    (GK) Nicky Weaver, Richard Edghill (RB), Tony Vaughan (CB), Keith Curle (CB), Richard Jobson (LB), Mike Phelan (CM), Jamie Pollock (CM), Jeff Whitley (RM), Keith Gillespie (LM), Paul Dickov (FW), Shaun Goater (FW)

 Chapter 89: To Find the Rhythm

    Chapter 89: To Find the RhythmWhen the players finished warming up, Richard stepped down onto the pitch and stood beside O¡¯Neill, asking, "4-4-2? The same as Wycombe?"


    O¡¯Neill shook his head. "I prefer a 4-4-2, but I¡¯m looking to refine it to suit this squad. Solid defensive organization, a hardworking midfield, and two forwards who can press high and capitalize on chances¡ªthat¡¯s what I¡¯m aiming for."


    "I want the wingers to move inside and act as attacking midfielders when we¡¯re in possession," he continued. "This turns it into a 4-2-2-2 in attack, which creates space for Cafu and Roberto Carlos to push forward and create chances from the flanks." He explained his tactics with a clear focus on how the team would operate dynamically.


    On the pitch, Mike Phelan was initially relaxed. After all, he was the most senior player here and the most experienced in Europe, so he felt confident going into the scrimmage.


    ¡¯Just to make it into the first team,¡¯ he thought.


    However, just three minutes into the game... What followed could only be described as an absolute humiliation.


    1st Minute: It was just like any normal kick-off. The red team started, and Phelan took his position as central midfielder, just like he had done countless times before.


    3rd Minute: This is where things started to go awry.


    The ball soared through the air, courtesy of Keith Curle from the red team, who made a perfect long pass toward the red team¡¯s main striker, Shaun Goater. The ball landed right at Goater¡¯s feet!


    It seemed like Keith Curle still had some magic left in him, as his pass was nearly flawless. But just as the ball was passed, something unexpected happened.


    As Goater began to advance down the sideline, a blur of speed knocked him clean off his feet!


    "Hey, this is just a training match, OK?!" he shouted as he got up from the ground, anger in his voice, directing it toward the new kid in the blue vest.


    But the culprit was already long gone, sprinting down the right, leaving Keith eating dirt on the ground.


    Cafu, already making a run, couldn¡¯t help but feel the discomfort of the cold. His nose still running, he fought to hold it together, pushing through the chill.


    ¡¯For the future, for my career, for my family...¡¯ he thought, steeling himself.


    With determination, Cafu made a precise pass to his teammate, none other than the familiar face of Ronaldo.


    Ronaldo had already dropped deep, raising his hand in the air to signal for the ball.


    And he was never out of Phelan¡¯s watchful eye, known for his football intelligence. He looked left, then right, seeing his teammates marking their men. With a determined nod, Phelan decided to move forward, targeting Ronaldo.


    ¡¯This is it, the moment.¡¯ Phelan thought the kid was going to pass the ball, but to his surprise, he kept holding onto it.


    This is rare. In England, strikers rarely dropped this deep into the midfield and tried to dribble. So, when Ronaldo started holding the ball and looking for space, Phelan thought, ¡¯I¡¯ve got this. Easy.¡¯


    He smirked and lunged, swinging his right leg to make a clean tackle. But then...


    The sly fox made a sudden, sharp move. As he came charging in, Ronaldo effortlessly shifted his body, stepping around his leg like a magician dodging a bullet before making an explosive burst of speed that left Phelan utterly stunned.


    Ronaldo was already gone.


    With retirement on the horizon, how could he possibly compete with the physicality of players in their early prime?


    Still, he wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡¯It must have been a fluke,¡¯ he thought to himself.


    8th Minute: Phelan, eyes locked on Ronaldo, saw his chance. As the ball was played forward, he found himself in a battle for possession with none other than the same bald, wiry kid.


    Keith Curle from the back of the red team made another superb pass, and Phelan seized the opportunity to step forward and prepare to receive it. But to his shock, the same bald kid came charging toward him, moving at a blistering speed!


    It was a 50-50 ball.


    In that split second, Phelan¡¯s mind raced, and without hesitation, he swung his right leg to pass the ball, wanting to get rid of it quickly. But just as the ball hit his feet, Ronaldo¡¯s legs arrived at the same moment, his speed closing the gap in an instant.


    Both sides felt they would touch the ball first. The ball was caught perfectly between them.


    BANG!


    In an instant, Phelan felt a sharp pain shoot up from his foot, as though he¡¯d just stubbed his toe on a steel beam. It was as if his legs had suddenly decided to go on strike.


    Trying to maintain balance, his calf betrayed him, and he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, utterly defeated. For a moment, Phelan lay there, staring up at the sky in disbelief.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if the pain was from the ball or from the sheer humiliation of being outplayed by a kid who probably hadn¡¯t even broken a sweat.


    Unfortunately, as he looked up to the sky, he missed the moment when Ronaldo dribbled past four defenders, creating enough space inside the box to score the blue team¡¯s first goal.


    After the high-five with Emile Heskey, he didn¡¯t relax after the game at all.


    And it wasn¡¯t just Ronaldo making an impact. Even Sol Campbell and Ian Cox were putting on a show, just as O¡¯Neill had emphasized.


    Usually, it was Ian Cox charging forward with his no-nonsense, fearless approach to defending, making every challenge look effortless. His relentless energy at the back kept the opposition on edge.


    26th Minute: Just as the scrimmage was nearing its end, Paul Dickov and Shaun Goater executed a brilliant one-two, quickly passing Ian Cox, who was charging in like a freight train. The ball zipped through, and for a split second, it seemed like the red team might be in the clear.


    But the path wasn¡¯t clear yet.


    As the ball sped toward the box, Sol Campbell was already anticipating the play. With a growl of determination, he planted his feet firmly on the ground, ready to face the oncoming attackers.


    The ball passed Cox just as Campbell pounced. Without missing a beat, Campbell saw it coming.


    He knew Dickov would try to pull the same trick again. So, Campbell leaned left toward Dickov, making it look like he was about to charge him down. Dickov, thinking he had Campbell fooled, quickly passed the ball to Goater.


    But as soon as he made the pass, Campbell, who had been reading the game like a book, pivoted sharply on his left foot. In an instant, he charged to the right, heading straight for Goater.


    Goater, who was expecting the ball to arrive at his feet, turned just in time to see Campbell already bearing down on him like a bear chasing after a picnic basket.


    Before Goater could even think, Campbell swung his leg like he was swatting at a fly, sending the ball flying into the distance. Goater was left standing there, with no ball and no plans. Even after that, Campbell merely glanced at the ball as it soared through the air, then turned around and got back into position as if nothing had happened.


    For the next 14 minutes, the floodgates were wide open. The red team¡¯s midfielders lost their composure and started making amateur mistakes, allowing the blue team to capitalize on every opportunity.


    On the left, Roberto Carlos unleashed a thunderous shot that had Tony Coton cowering in front of the goal. You could always hear the familiar bang, bang, bang echoing every time his powerful left foot made contact with the ball.


    On the right, Cafu pushed forward relentlessly, delivering pinpoint crosses, but Emile Heskey often resorted to diving to win a foul, causing the chances to go to waste. Meanwhile, Ronaldo found himself a step behind, causing the ball to arrive just a bit too late every time.


    Though the score remained unchanged, the pressure from the blue team¡¯s attacking play was relentless.


    It wasn¡¯t until the final minutes that the dam truly broke.


    From the sidelines, even Richard could see the numerous gaps in the red team¡¯s defensive structure. In the 27th minute, Ronaldo cleverly peeled away from his markers with a sharp Cruyff turn, then accelerated toward the goal.


    While he hadn¡¯t yet reached the effortless flow he was known for in his prime, he executed the move quickly and slipped a perfectly timed pass to Emile Heskey in front of the goal. Heskey made no mistake, firing the ball into the bottom-right corner to make it 2-0.


    For the next three minutes, the blue team was on fire.


    They pressed with intensity, tackling with precision, intercepting passes, and dribbling past red defenders as if it were second nature. Emile Heskey, Paul Lake, and Steve Lomas each found the back of the net in the 28th, 29th, and 30th minutes.


    Thanks to their collective efforts, the blue team utterly dominated, leaving the red team in their wake.


    After 30 minutes of pure action, O¡¯Neill blew the whistle, marking the end of the scrimmage as he began noting the final time.


    "How is it? Got the best?" Richard asked. S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Hmm..." O¡¯Neill paused for a moment, thinking. "I think the priority now is to make sure Emile shakes off his habit if we¡¯re going to play him as a target man. As for Ronaldo, playing behind Heskey could also be an option. Curle¡¯s passing is solid; we could probably use him as a defensive midfielder here."

 Chapter 90: Sponsorship Issue

    Chapter 90: Sponsorship IssueAs they walked back toward the office, O¡¯Neill glanced at Richard with a curious expression.


    "Richard, where did you find these players?" he asked, still trying to process what he had just witnessed on the pitch.


    "What do you mean?" Richard replied casually, adjusting his jacket.


    "I mean the Brazilian kid," O¡¯Neill clarified. "Where did they come from?"


    Richard chuckled. "Brazil, obviously."


    "No, no," O¡¯Neill pressed. "I¡¯m asking how you found them. Players like that don¡¯t just appear out of nowhere."


    Richard stopped, turned around, and simply said, "Did you forget? I used to be a scout¡ªand an agent. I have my ways of spotting talent before the rest of the world does."


    That was all he said. No further explanation, no detailed story¡ªjust a confident, matter-of-fact statement.


    With the scrimmage over, City¡¯s pre-season preparations officially kicked off. Richard, having played his part in assembling the squad, handed full control over to O¡¯Neill. From now on, everything was in the manager¡¯s hands.


    The pre-season started with an intensive training camp at HMS Raleigh, the Royal Navy¡¯s premier training facility in Cornwall. It was an unconventional choice, but Richard had no other option, as most of their pre-season matches were against non-league clubs¡ªsuch was the reality of City¡¯s position in the third tier of English football.


    O¡¯Neill also saw the benefits. A few weeks of disciplined, high-intensity training under military conditions could toughen up the squad both physically and mentally, preparing them for the long season ahead.


    The first few days were brutal. Early morning runs in the cold coastal air, relentless drills, and exhausting strength training sessions had some players questioning their life choices¡ªespecially Ronaldo. The coaching staff watched closely, assessing who could handle the pressure of not just the training, but also the conditions they would have to endure in Manchester.


    While City was deep into their pre-season preparations, Richard finally made his way back to his office.


    Just as he was settling in, his phone rang. It was John, and from his tone, it was clear something urgent had come up. Without wasting any time, Richard hurried to meet him.


    "So, what¡¯s the situation?" Richard asked as he took a seat in his office.


    John, already prepared, pulled out a stack of papers and scanned through them before looking up. "Most of our outgoing transfers have been completed, and some are still being negotiated."


    "Let me take a look," Richard said, reaching for the documents.


    John handed them over, and Richard began reading through them carefully. But as he flipped through the pages, his expression darkened.


    He glanced up at John, then back at the papers before finally asking, "Are you serious with these numbers?"


    John let out a helpless sigh and nodded.


    It was a straightforward document listing the players sold, their positions, the clubs they were joining, and the transfer fees. The problem? The prices were laughably low.


    Michel Vonk (LB) ¡ú Hearts (Scottish Premier League) ¨C ¡ê50,000


    Paul Walsh (MC) ¡ú AIK (Sweden) ¨C ¡ê55,000


    Fitzroy Simpson (MC) ¡ú Cheltenham Town (League One) ¨C ¡ê70,000


    Out of all the players on the transfer list, these three received the highest offers, which meant that from all 12 players, the highest offer was only ¡ê70,000, and that was for just one player, Fitzroy Simpson.


    This highlighted how low City¡¯s squad value had fallen. Richard knew the team wasn¡¯t worth much after two disastrous seasons, but he hadn¡¯t expected it to be this bad. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "This is ridiculous..."


    How much did Swales and Lee pour into signing all these players?


    Probably more than ¡ê7 million¡ªand yet, we can¡¯t even recover 10% of that?


    The only sale that was remotely decent was Giorgi Kinkladze, who was sold for ¡ê5 million but even then, he had originally been bought during Alan Ball¡¯s tenure for ¡ê7 million, meaning City had already taken a ¡ê2 million loss on him alone.


    Richard let out a frustrated sigh and turned to John. "What happened?"


    "Demand," John replied flatly. "There just wasn¡¯t any demand for our players."


    He continued, shaking his head. "Forget First Division¡ªeven Second and Third Division teams weren¡¯t interested in players who had been relegated two seasons in a row. That¡¯s why I had to look beyond England just to move them. No one on the transfer list you gave me attracted much interest, so for some deals, I had to personally reach out and convince clubs to take them."


    Richard frowned. "No demand at all?"


    John thought for a moment before answering. "Well, there was some demand, but most of it came from these clubs alone. Our players weren¡¯t exactly highly rated to begin with, and with the World Cup just wrapping up, clubs were more focused on signing young, promising talent. The market was filled with better options, so yeah... the fees we got were far from ideal."


    "I see..." Richard groaned, rubbing his face. Complaining wouldn¡¯t change the situation now.


    "How about our current cash flow?" he then asked.


    John let out a heavy sigh. "It¡¯s bad. From your ¡ê30 million loan, we¡¯ve already spent most of it¡ªcovering the short-term loan¡¯s due payments, penalties, expenses, and the financial hit from relegation. On top of that, many of our sponsors pulled out because of our situation."


    He paused before continuing, "Right now, we have only ¡ê9 million left in usable funds... and we¡¯re still carrying a long-term debt of ¡ê37 million."


    Richard leaned back, deep in thought. "What about the sponsors?"


    When Manchester City was under the management of the Lee consortium, they made a bold decision to switch their jersey sponsor from Umbro to Kappa, as Umbro was owned by a former vice president of the club.


    But now, with the club relegated, Kappa decided to sever ties with City, removing them from their list of partners. This left the club scrambling for a new kit supplier.


    As a result, after the sponsorship termination and penalties, the club was left with just three remaining sponsors: Brother International (a printer and electronics company), Cresta (a fruit-flavored sparkling drink brand), and Carlsberg, which still maintained a regional sponsorship deal, though it wasn¡¯t a significant one.


    "There are also two new offers for sponsorship," John said as he began explaining the details to Richard.


    "Walkers wants to be City¡¯s shirt sponsor. They¡¯re offering a fixed amount of ¡ê1 million, paid in four installments throughout the season," he continued.


    "The second offer is a bit more complex. It comes from a local business, Mancunian Transport, a Manchester-based transportation company. They¡¯re offering a fixed amount of ¡ê500,000," John paused for a moment before continuing. "But they¡¯re also offering bonuses. They¡¯ve proposed ¡ê500,000 if we qualify for the playoffs. Both offers are for two years."


    John looked at Richard and added, "What if we get promoted?"


    "Well, there hasn¡¯t been much talk about it, but if we achieve promotion this year, Mancunian Transport is probably willing to double the sponsorship money for the following season," John replied.


    "Two million..." Richard mulled it over.


    Originally, he had considered including Rover Group¡¯s name, but then realized it might not be the most effective choice.


    Given that Rover itself was still struggling, the marketing impact wouldn¡¯t be ideal. It would be better to wait until Rover was on firmer ground before considering them as a potential sponsor for Manchester City.


    "Sign the contract with Mancunian Transport then." Richard confirmed.


    The prospect of Mancunian Transport doubling their sponsorship money was generous, and Richard felt confident about securing promotion to the first division.


    Though the team hadn¡¯t been in action yet, Richard believed the defense was strong enough to withstand attacks from any club. After that, it was all about hoping for the brilliance of Il Fenomeno¡¯s talent to shine through.


    ¡¯If it were the first division, it would be a bit more difficult...¡¯ Richard murmured as he mentally ran through the potential scenarios if City were to compete in the first division directly.


    ¡¯City¡¯s upcoming season will be tough to predict then, even for Richard. Although the squad had talent, he still needed to see how they would gel together as a team. They had the potential for promotion, but the risk of finishing mid-table was also a real possibility in that case¡¯


    He was actually very fortunate to start in the third tier. That¡¯s because Ronaldo, Cafu, and Roberto Carlos were still adjusting to the cold weather in England, and the playing style in Brazil and England was vastly different.


    Given that, taking a year to adapt was undoubtedly a smart choice for the players, allowing them the time they needed to settle in and acclimate to their new environment.


    "Then we¡¯ll go with Mancunian Transport for the main sponsor. What about the kit?" John asked, flipping through some papers.


    Richard thought for a moment before replying. "Do you have any ideas?"


    "To be honest," John began, "last season there was another supplier that reached out to us¡ªJako. They were offering to provide all of our kit supplies, including the technical kits and training wear, for the next two seasons. They proposed a deal worth ¡ê500,000 per season."


    "Which means, it could be said that their offer would be lower this season if we reach out to them."


    "That¡¯s right," John confirmed.


    Richard leaned back, considering the options.


    Sponsorship deals were heavily influenced by the visibility and popularity of a club, and with City now in the second division, they couldn¡¯t reach the same high-profile deals yet. After all, City wasn¡¯t exactly a top-tier draw at the moment. But this, in a way, worked in his favor.


    He wasn¡¯t particularly interested in locking City into long-term sponsorship agreements at this point. There were too many uncertainties, and what he needed currently was flexibility¡ªthe ability to reassess the situation once City had regained some form and visibility.


    After all, it was about rebuilding the brand, not just signing a long-term deal for the sake of it.


    Still, he thought it was a win-win situation for both parties. The sponsors wanted something more than just City¡¯s logo on a kit¡ªthey wanted to tap into the passionate, die-hard fanbase that still remained.


    "John, go with Jako. Accept their offer. And also, regarding the current transfers that are still stalled, try to finalize the deals in the next 10 days, even if we have to sell below market price." Richard made his decision.


    "You sure?" John raised an eyebrow.


    "Yes, I¡¯m sure," Richard said decisively.


    At this point, it was likely that every club was already aware of City¡¯s predicament, with their aggressive moves to sell players and clean up. Now, they were stalling to drive the price lower.


    It was bound to happen anyway. Clubs were competing with each other, and one team¡¯s loss was another¡¯s gain.


    If they could secure a player for a lower price from one of their competitors, they¡¯d have more money to spend elsewhere to get ahead. So Richard preferred to have all the transfer operations completed in the next 10 days, even if it meant selling at a loss.


    After dealing with issue after issue and following instruction after instruction, Richard was finally able to focus on City¡¯s preseason finally.


    After a short training camp at HMS Raleigh, City played two friendlies against local non-league sides. They won 3-1 against Torpoint Athletic and 6-0 against Newquay.


    In both matches, Richard was surprised to hear the news that it wasn¡¯t Ronaldo or Emile Heskey who managed to shine, but rather the 21-year-old Ole Gunnar Solskj?r. His performance was exceptional, and Richard couldn¡¯t help but take notice.


    In fact, Solskj?r managed to score a hat-trick against Newquay, earning the respect of both the coaches and his teammates. O¡¯Neill even jokingly referred to him as City¡¯s next Shearer.


    "This is interesting," he muttered to himself.


    After the last two non-league matches, City finally returned to play at Maine Road, where they hosted Droylsden and secured a 3-2 win.


    The Blues continued their preseason buildup with additional games against non-league opposition, winning 4-1 at Altrincham and 7-0 at Congleton Town.


    With the final three matches against non-league teams, their preseason warm-up came to an end. But suddenly, O¡¯Neill walked into Richard¡¯s office and requested another friendly match for the squad.


    "Why?" Richard asked, surprised. "Five friendly matches should be enough, right?"


    "I need more time to refine the formation. Plus, I think we need more matches to help Curle adjust to his new role as a defensive midfielder," O¡¯Neill explained.


    Preseason friendlies were important for assessing new players, testing different tactics, and helping the team bond. However, playing too many matches also increased the risk of injuries.


    Moreover, playing too much before the season, even in preseason, could have negative effects. If the players played too many games in the buildup and ended up feeling satisfied, tired, and disinterested, their excitement for the official matches would decrease.


    So, Richard rejected the idea for another preseason match.


    "Why not just do a scrimmage in training instead? Isn¡¯t that better?" he suggested.

 Chapter 91: Airline Company, Is It a Good Idea?

    Chapter 91: Airline Company, Is It a Good Idea?With pre-season officially behind them, Manchester City had entered the final phase of preparations for the new campaign.


    Typically, after pre-season, professional football clubs shift their focus to fine-tuning the squad, ensuring players are at peak fitness, and making any last-minute transfers before the opening fixtures.


    Since City¡¯s pre-season experiments were complete, O¡¯Neill immediately met with Richard to discuss the weaknesses in his squad.


    Inside the chairman¡¯s office, Richards sat across from O¡¯Neill, who had requested the meeting.


    Richards adjusted the tablet in front of him and leaned back in his chair. "Alright, let¡¯s get straight to it. Pre-season went well, didn¡¯t it? So, what¡¯s on your mind, Martin?"


    O¡¯Neill shook his head slightly. "Yes, the squad looks sharp, but there are still a few things to sort out before matchday."


    Richards raised an eyebrow. "Another transfer?"


    O¡¯Neill nodded. "Like I said, there are some depth concerns. I initially had high hopes for Phelan as a midfield backup, but after watching his performances..." He let out a sigh and shook his head. "One injury, and we¡¯re in serious trouble," he added.


    To stay competitive and avoid unnecessary risks, O¡¯Neill knew that City needed at least one more midfield signing before the season began.


    At the moment, City¡¯s defensive midfield position was a major concern. The original plan was for Mike Phelan and Ian Taylor to share the role, but after evaluating Phelan¡¯s performances, O¡¯Neill began to have second thoughts.


    Tactically, City¡¯s current system still reflected the rigid structure inherited from former manager Alan Ball. Many of the squad members were kind of limited-role players. SImply put they are only they excelled in one particular skill or position.


    A player might be mediocre overall but excel in one standout ability, such as speed or passing, often at the expense of another crucial skill. For example, a player might lack physical strength but make up for it with exceptional tactical awareness.


    Keith Curle, for instance, had decent passing ability that helped him build from the back, but as a centre-back, his positioning awareness was lacking in certain aspects. Now, with O¡¯Neill expecting him to play as a defensive midfielder, it was clear that passing alone wouldn¡¯t be enough.


    For O¡¯Neill, if Curle were to transition into the defensive midfield role as he hoped, he wouldn¡¯t just need to passing and defend¡ªhe would also need a keen ability to read the game, especially when under pressure. Not to mention, he often struggled with positioning and was slow to find space when the centre-backs were looking for passing options.


    He had good physicality and passing, but he lacked awareness and tactical intelligence. Phelan, on the other hand, was the opposite¡ªhe had excellent game-reading ability but lacked the necessary physical attributes.


    The current hope to fill the position was Ian Taylor, but if he got injured or underperformed, the midfield would become highly vulnerable, especially when dealing with counterattacks.


    The Second Division, the FA Cup, and the League Cup¡ªthree competitions, which meant they would end up playing around around sixty matches, if they went all the way to the finals, of course.


    Richard thought for a moment before nodding. "So, it¡¯s for another midfielder? Tell me, which one are you targeting?"


    "A holding midfielder will do just fine," O¡¯Neill said to John. "We can say that the current City squad already has an experienced center-back to lead the team, so finding a backup holding midfielder is still the priority now."


    Richard looked at O¡¯Neill with a concerned expression. "I¡¯ll be honest, Martin. Finding the kind of player you¡¯re asking for within our budget is going to be tough," he admitted.


    Most lower-tier clubs still relied on the traditional 4-4-2 formation, with two central midfielders acting as the team¡¯s generals. As for defensive midfielders, the best ones had already been snapped up by bigger clubs.


    "No need to worry," O¡¯Neill replied confidently. "I wouldn¡¯t have brought this up if I hadn¡¯t already prepared a solution."


    He slid a piece of paper across the table, revealing a name that made Richard raise an eyebrow.


    Ian Ferguson, 27 years old, midfielder, Rangers.


    "27? He¡¯s in his prime¡ªhis price will be steep, won¡¯t it?" Richard asked instantly.


    O¡¯Neill shook his head. "I heard he¡¯s been having issues with his playing time. He even got into a scuffle because of it. I suspect Advocaat will be looking to offload him quickly. The problem is, Ferguson just signed a five-year contract, and most of the offers are coming from Scottish clubs. I guess Rangers might be more willing to loan him to us rather than strengthen one of their rivals."


    Richard leaned back, considering the idea. "You think he¡¯d accept a move to us?"


    "Yes. Let me handle convincing him to join City. What do you think?" O¡¯Neill asked, watching Richard expectantly.


    Richard studied O¡¯Neill carefully. It seemed like this guy was really determined to bring Ferguson into the squad. He didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, he reviewed City¡¯s current wage structure first.


    "No need," Richard rejected O¡¯Neill. Dealing and negotiation were not the manager¡¯s. "Let John handle it. Right now, the most important thing for you is preparing the team for the opening fixtures and the press conference."


    The British media might well be regarded as the most unreliable in all of Europe, if not the world, fabricating sensational stories to capture attention and prying into personal privacy with ease.


    What status does football hold in the UK?


    Which sport reigns supreme in popularity?


    First is football, second is football, third is football.


    Football and the media are deeply intertwined, with the power to shape a club¡¯s legacy. The rise of the Busby Babes at Manchester United, for example, coincided with the expansion of football broadcasting into British homes, helping to establish the club¡¯s massive fanbase.


    Had a different team dominated during that era, the landscape of English football today might look entirely different. Newspapers (Times, The Guardian, Daily Telegraph, The Sun), television (BBC, ITV, Sky Sports), and radio (BBC Radio 5 Live) dominated the football narrative. It¡¯s different from the modern 24/7 digital coverage.


    When it came to club owners, they were generally less scrutinized unless they made headlines for bad decisions, like Peter Swales and Francis Lee, or if they were particularly high-profile. As long as you remained quiet and didn¡¯t interfere much, the media wouldn¡¯t attack you.


    As for managers?


    They commanded more respect, but the pressure was still immense.


    Take Sir Alex Ferguson at Manchester United¡ªthe famous 1989 headline "Three Years of Excuses and It¡¯s Still Crap" was brutal. But after United¡¯s dominance from 1990 onward, the media respected him.


    Kenny Dalglish, being a legendary player, received less criticism than others. George Graham had a divisive relationship with the press¡ªsome called his style "boring," while others respected his defensive structure.


    Because this was O¡¯Neill¡¯s first official press conference, Richard, of course, attended.


    In Britain, there are no prominent specialized sports publications; most outlets are general newspapers with a sports department. Thus, not every football-related event garners attention¡ªonly news that attracts readers and eyeballs draws the paparazzi¡¯s interest.


    Regrettably, major British newspapers, including The Times, The Guardian, The Daily Telegraph, and The Sun, had not dispatched a single reporter to cover the event. Manchester City¡¯s first team simply lacked the appeal for these journalists.


    Even City¡¯s challenge against the "foreign player limit" had already lost its novelty, as other Premier League teams were also gearing up for the season.


    Soon, the local press began asking questions. "What are Manchester City¡¯s objectives for the upcoming season?" sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "We are a youthful team, and many players still require competitive experience to flourish. Thus, our objective for the upcoming season is quite practical: promotion."


    A handful of reporters exchanged puzzled glances before one incredulously asked,


    "Manchester City just offloaded so many key players¡ªare you sure you can achieve a good position in the league next season?"


    O¡¯Neill felt bitter about this, but he quickly composed himself. "Of course, as I said, we are a young team with great potential for growth. We have the opportunity to mature and become stronger. I believe that by the time we reach the Premier League, our squad will be in its prime, making City highly competitive."


    Ah, when the reporters heard O¡¯Neill mention the Premier League, they exhibited disinterest¡ªCity was not the first club to have such dreams. Forget about reaching the Premier League¡ªcould they even survive this season?


    Perhaps that was the more fitting question.


    The starkly quiet press conference evoked a twinge of sympathy among the journalists, prompting one of them to half-heartedly ask, "Could you share your thoughts on Roberto Carlos, Cafu, and Ronaldo? How..."


    And so, the interview continued.


    Seeing that O¡¯Neill could handle it, Richard rose from his seat and left the training ground where the press conference was being held.


    Because managing the issues at Rover and Manchester City had been overwhelming lately, Richard was completely drained. So when John booked a flight to Scotland, he decided to tag along, thinking it would be a much-needed vacation.


    Since they were short on time, they hadn¡¯t taken a commercial flight. Instead, they used a private jet. What surprised Richard was the name of the airline¡ªEasyJet, a British multinational low-cost airline group.


    Before boarding the plane, he made a call to Taylor Smith, his personal relationship manager at Barclays.


    "I already contacted them," Smith replied. "They¡¯re looking for financing to expand their fleet. They need to raise around ¡ê400 million, and twenty companies and venture capital firms are already competing. Why do you want to invest in them?"


    Richard sighed. "Damn... I¡¯m late."


    If his financial situation were stable, he would consider it¡ªmuch like Bayern which owns shares in Lufthansa, securing priority flights for the club.


    "Should I get into the aviation industry? Would this be a smart move?" Richard mused.


    If Manchester City eventually traveled frequently for domestic and international matches, owning an airline could significantly cut costs in the long run.


    Instead of paying millions for chartered or commercial flights, the club could save $5M+ annually by having its own fleet. It would also provide full control over scheduling, comfort, and travel logistics.


    Beyond cost savings, an airline could boost the club¡¯s global presence, carrying its name worldwide. There was also revenue potential from commercial flights, not to mention the synergy with his other business ventures in tourism, real estate, and entertainment. It could be part of a larger strategic expansion.


    Yet, despite the appeal, Richard quickly dismissed the idea. Right now, it simply wasn¡¯t feasible.


    Maybe in the future¡ªwhen City was a regular in the Champions League or constantly touring internationally¡ªit would make sense.


    But for now? Hah!


    Commercial flights were still the smartest and most flexible option.


    When Richard and John arrived in Glasgow Airport, it marked Richard¡¯s first visit to the country.


    The moment they stepped off the plane, a fierce gust of Scotland¡¯s infamous wind hit them like a blade, cutting straight through their coats. The sky was a dull gray, and the chill in the air felt even sharper than they had anticipated.


    "Bloody hell, it¡¯s freezing!" Richard muttered, pulling his coat tighter around himself.


    He exhaled, watching his breath turn to mist. "I wasn¡¯t expecting it to be this cold." Rubbing his hands together, he glanced around. "John, first stop¡ªcoffee!"


    John chuckled. "Welcome to Scotland, mate."

 Chapter 92: Manchester City’s Current Blueprint

    Chapter 92: Manchester City¡¯s Current BlueprintAn hour before the plane touched down in Scotland, Richard sat across from John in the sleek, private jet cabin. The low hum of the engines filled the space, a quiet backdrop to the serious conversation unfolding.


    Since it was just the two of them, it was the perfect moment to speak frankly.


    "Right now, what project is draining the club¡¯s finances the most? And how long can we last with the current forecast?" Richard asked, his tone direct.


    John nodded, already anticipating the question. "I¡¯ve prepared a financial summary," he said, then paused for a moment before continuing. "To be honest, besides player wages, the biggest expense has been the new stadium project. But as per your instructions, that has been put on hold."


    He leaned forward slightly, choosing his words carefully. "Even with the stadium project suspended, and assuming we don¡¯t take on any new large-scale projects, just maintaining the current operations of the team will only keep us afloat for¡ªat most¡ªtwo years. That¡¯s assuming we stay efficient and avoid unexpected costs."


    "What if we get promoted?" Richard asked.


    "If we¡¯re promoted to the First Division," John replied, "the club¡¯s funds could probably sustain operations for another years at most."


    "And the Premier League?"


    John sighed at that. ¡¯Two years and straight to the Premier League? What kind of dream is that?¡¯


    Still, he answered professionally. "Even if we reach the Premier League after two years, we¡¯d likely only survive another two or three years at best¡ªunless we secure additional funding. Ideally, that means another cash injection from you, like before."


    Richard looked anxious, but also a bit surprised. ¡¯Aren¡¯t domestic and international TV deals the biggest revenue source for most Premier League clubs? Even that wouldn¡¯t save Manchester City?¡¯


    Noticing Richard¡¯s suspicious expression, John understood. "The current wage structure for the first team is simply too high," he explained. "Their salaries are already on par with Premier League-level clubs, but our revenue doesn¡¯t match that¡ªespecially not with the limited capacity of our current stadium."


    "Ah..." Only then did Richard fully understand.


    The legendary, raucous terrace where City¡¯s most passionate fans once stood¡ªthe Kippax Stand¡ªhad been demolished during the Lee consortium¡¯s tenure. And the reconstruction still wasn¡¯t complete, reducing ticket revenue significantly. City was so strapped for cash that even completing the iconic Kippax felt like a distant goal.


    Club revenue during this time came mainly from ticket sales, small sponsorships, and minor merchandise income.


    Now, relying solely on ticket sales was out of the question¡ªtheir modest stadium likely generated less than a million pounds per year. Not to mention, it was still unclear how many fans would actually turn up for matches this season.


    Television broadcasting rights and sponsorships were meager, especially in the Second Division. It was a completely different story if they were directly in the Premier League, to be honest.


    Football clubs don¡¯t typically receive direct bonus per matches. However, their final league position determines the end-of-season prize money.


    On top of that, there¡¯s a portion of TV revenue known as ¡¯merit payments¡¯¡ªfees awarded based on performance and how often a club¡¯s matches are selected for live broadcast. In short, winning more = more exciting = more TV picks = more money indirectly.


    Merchandise sales? The channels were insufficient to generate significant profit, especially since Manchester was more red than blue.


    The commercial and marketing department was still small and traditional. To make matters worse, the introduction of all-seater stadium regulations forced clubs to divert much of their budgets toward costly renovations.


    This significantly limited their ability to invest in players and facilities, ultimately weakening their competitiveness.


    To summarize, the club¡¯s ability to generate profit lagged far behind its level of spending¡ªespecially with the current salary expenses, which would remain a fixed cost for several years to come.


    While some Premier League players earned weekly salaries exceeding ten thousand pounds, that level of pay was typically reserved for the worldwide superstars. Most players likely earned only a few thousand¡ªand some probably didn¡¯t even make a thousand per week.


    City¡¯s current first-team squad, with wages inherited from the Lee consortium era, averaged well above that range, with most players earning thousands per week. Some senior players even reached figures as high as ¡ê8,000.


    With the addition of newly recruited players, City likely ranked among the top ten in England in terms of wage expenses. SO, current City, if he were to be frank, could survive only because of the ¡ê30 million¡ªhis free money.


    So, how could they make money as quickly as possible?


    Richard had only one option left¡ªto get the absolute best out of his current players!


    Did he really dream of keeping players like Cafu, Roberto Carlos, or Ronaldo at City for the rest of their careers?


    That was never going to happen.


    Sooner or later, City wouldn¡¯t be able to keep their best players and he knew that.


    Even though the 1970s marked the rise of English dominance in European football¡ªwith Spurs winning the UEFA Cup and Liverpool, Nottingham Forest, and Aston Villa collectively lifting seven European trophies¡ªmodern fans and players tend to favor Italian, French, or Spanish clubs.


    Especially when their golden era came to an abrupt end after two back-to-back tragedies shook English football, leading to a ban from European competitions and dealing a heavy blow to the nation¡¯s footballing prestige.


    During the years when English clubs were absent from major European competitions, Serie A rose to prominence and gradually established itself as the undisputed top league in Europe¡ªfollowed by Spain¡¯s La Liga, Germany¡¯s Bundesliga, and France¡¯s Division 1. Only then did Premiere League catch up, thanks to Sky Sports and Manchester United.


    Still, even when the ban was lifted in 1991, English clubs¡¯ return to the Champions League ended in disappointment¡ªlike Arsenal¡¯s short spell in the 1991/92 season, Leeds United¡¯s 1992/93 season, and Manchester United¡¯s early exit in the second round 1993/94.


    ¡¯Well, it doesn¡¯t matter.¡¯ Richard thought.


    In the first place, he also to be honest never intended to hold on to anyone for too long, as long as their market value made sense.


    For many ambitious talents, current Serie A and La Liga represented the ultimate dream. Even the emerging appeal of the Premier League salary couldn¡¯t match the allure of Italian and Spanish elegant football.


    So, it was inevitable¡ªafter all, this is football. New players would come in, and others would leave.


    You¡¯re kidding, right? S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With the knowledge of which players were destined for greatness, why bother begging them to stay?


    If they wanted to leave¡ªfine. Let them chase the spotlight. But no one was walking out the door for free.


    You want my player?


    Then you pay.


    Full price. No discounts.


    Top talent doesn¡¯t come cheap, and he wasn¡¯t running a charity. This was business. And he played to win.


    What Richard had in mind for current Manchester City was simple:


    The ball had to start rolling.


    The foundation had to be laid.


    The academy needed to produce.


    And every pound earned had to go back into the system.


    For the next ten to fifteen years, If City couldn¡¯t yet compete at the top of European football, then at the very least, they would establish a reputation for elite youth development¡ªregularly producing talented players and selling them across Europe.


    After all, no one could say for certain¡ª even if he signed all those megastars, would they really deliver trophies?


    Talent alone doesn¡¯t guarantee silverware. Chemistry, timing, injuries, luck¡ªso many variables shape a season. He could spend a fortune and still walk away with nothing.


    Take Manchester United under Sir Alex Ferguson, for example¡ªhow did they manage to dominate English football for so long?


    It¡¯s not like they didn¡¯t have serious competition. Mourinho¡¯s Chelsea was a machine, Ars¨¨ne Wenger¡¯s Arsenal played some of the best football in Europe, and Liverpool was never a team to be taken lightly.


    And yet, it was still Manchester United at the top. Was it luck? Maybe a bit. But it was far more than that.


    It was world-class management, long-term planning, a winning culture, and an ability to adapt across eras. Ferguson didn¡¯t just build a team¡ªhe built a dynasty. There are so many factors to consider, but one thing¡¯s clear: success like that doesn¡¯t happen by accident.


    That¡¯s why his approach was bigger than that¡ªsustainable and scalable. Build the system right, and the trophies would eventually follow. And to do that, City first needed a serious foundation overhaul¡ªand money could pave that foundation much easier.


    If not hundreds of millions, then billions. That was the target for the next decade, for Richard personally.


    And when the Premier League finally cemented itself as the number one league in the world, that would be the moment. That¡¯s when he would shed the feeder club label, rebrand City¡¯s identity, and build a true powerhouse.


    It wasn¡¯t glamorous. It wasn¡¯t romantic but it was necessary.


    ¡¯Ah, if I sign Messi and Ronaldo, then sell them off to Real Madrid and Barcelona at the same time¡ªlet El Cl¨¢sico do the magic. How much could I make from that? Years down the line, when people argue over who the real GOAT is and start name-dropping City¡¯s academy in the debate... that¡¯s global exposure without spending a cent.¡¯ Richard thought.


    But that was for later. Money first.


    He calmed himself and waved his hand. "Tell me about the stadium¡ªhow far along are the discussions with the Manchester City Council?"


    The Manchester City Council serves as the local governing authority for the city of Manchester, England.


    During the Peter Swales era, Manchester City¡¯s ambition to build a new stadium was first outlined prior to 1989, as part of the city¡¯s bid to host the 1996 Summer Olympics.


    In partnership with the Manchester City Council, Swales¡¯ administration submitted a proposal that included an 80,000-seat stadium located on a Greenfield site to the west of the city centre. However, the bid was unsuccessful, and Atlanta was ultimately awarded the Games.


    Following Swales¡¯ removal, the Francis Lee consortium revived the stadium plan with a renewed Olympic bid¡ªthis time targeting the 2000 Summer Olympics.


    Instead of the original Greenfield site, the new proposal focused on a Brownfield site just 1.6 kilometres east of the city centre¡ªa derelict area that once housed the Bradford Colliery, more commonly known as Eastlands.


    The decision to shift from a Greenfield site to Eastlands was influenced by emerging government legislation on urban renewal, which promised vital support and funding for such projects. The government became involved in funding the purchase and clearance of the Eastlands site.


    As you know, the UK had just escaped from George Soros and the economic crisis jaw from 1990, so the current urban renewal plans were halted, and they instead focused on other areas for urban development, like London the capital city or if Manchester, the priority was then the central area


    By 1992, the UK government had become directly involved in financing the acquisition and clearance of the Eastlands site, laying the groundwork for what would eventually become a transformative project for the city across UK.


    This is why they targeted the east side instead of the west side of Manchester. Last year¡ªspecifically in 1993¡ªthe Lee consortium, in partnership with the City Council, submitted a new design for an 80,000-capacity stadium.


    This time, the proposal was developed by design consultants Arup, the same consultant firm that had initially identified the Eastlands site for Lee consortium. However, once again, their bid was rejected, with the Games ultimately awarded to Sydney.


    Losing twice did not deter the Lee consortium though.


    After the failed bid for the 2000 Summer Olympics, they quickly pivoted and submitted a proposal to host the 2002 Commonwealth Games, once again putting forward the Eastlands site.


    This time, the stadium plans were scaled down and adapted from the earlier Olympic design. The project was named after the "Millennium Commission," and if successful, the proposed stadium would be called the "Millennium Stadium."


    And this very stadium project that currently eats up most of the City¡¯s budget, aside from player wages and transfers.


    "The current stadium project is competing with Wembley Stadium for funding to become the new national stadium, but we are still trying our best to win it," John said confidently. He then continued, "We have also passed the feasibility and risk assessment; we are now entering the legal and regulatory compliance stage."


    This means ensuring the project complies with all local laws, zoning regulations, and environmental requirements.


    Or you could say Manchester City is one step ahead and can be considered to have already met the criteria for approval.


    Richard tapped his fingers on the armrest, deep in thought, silently weighing the pros and cons. John didn¡¯t interrupt¡ªhe simply waited.


    After a few long minutes of silence, Richard opened his eyes and finally asked something.


    John¡¯s eyes widened the moment he heard it.

 Chapter 93: Inheriting the New Stadium Project

    Chapter 93: Inheriting the New Stadium Project"What happens if we lose the bid for the Commonwealth Games? Would Manchester City Council consider pulling out of the stadium project?" Richard asked.


    "Impossible!" John quickly rejected the idea. "First, there are existing agreements already in place between both parties, and pulling out now could result in legal consequences, such as breach of contract or financial penalties."


    "But the timeline and readiness are still far off, right? The games will begin in 2002, and we¡¯re still in 1994. There¡¯s still time, right? Like the last bid for the Summer Olympics in 2000, I heard the Council backed off at the last minute, causing the bid to fail. Is that true?"


    John understood instantly why Richard asked the question, so he took a moment to clarify.


    "It wasn¡¯t that the Council backed out; the deal was never finalized in the first place. The media exaggerated the situation."


    He continued, "At that time, when the Lee consortium pushed forward with the bid, there were disputes around long-term commitments, such as maintenance, debt repayments, and revenue sharing, the Lee consortium demanding a Public-Private Partnership with 50:50 ownership with the Council because they feared something like the Hillsborough disaster could happen."


    John then shook his head. "That¡¯s why they lost the bid. They were too cautious with the politicians and weren¡¯t prepared enough, especially after the Swales pitch invasion. They knew it was a huge opportunity, but they were also afraid of what might happen later if such a tragedy occurred under their watch."


    Richard nodded at this.


    PPP scheme, The club can retain full control of the stadium while still getting essential funding and support from the government.


    For example, Lee consortium proposed a deal where the government helps fund the project through grants, subsidies, or tax incentives, while City retains ownership of the stadium. The government could benefit from the stadium being used for public events like concerts, sports events, or community programs, providing a return on investment, while City could retain full control of the stadium without having to spend money on its construction, as public funds would cover the development costs.


    This would also reduce the risk for both sides, actually. If something like the feared disaster happened, they wouldn¡¯t need to bear the full risk, as the responsibility would be shared with Manchester City Council, providing them protection from the political side.


    "Tell me about the current agreement between the Lee consortium and the Council for the Commonwealth Games. I think I missed some details when I read about it. It¡¯s better to hear it in more detail from someone who¡¯s directly involved, right?"


    John nodded, understanding. "As for the current agreement, the Lee consortium eventually backed down. They realized the council wasn¡¯t going to go along with the PPP scheme, so they agreed to a ¡¯fully repairing¡¯ basis instead."


    The stadium is owned by Manchester City Council and leased to the football club, Manchester City in this case on a ¡¯fully repairing¡¯ basis. All operating, maintenance, and future capital costs are borne by the club, which consequently receives all revenues from stadium users.


    Hosting a major event like the Commonwealth Games is a huge opportunity¡ªnot just for the club and the city, but for the entire community. People are counting on it, especially with the potential for sponsorships, tourism, and new partnerships.


    The economic turnover would be significant. Losing out twice has already damaged the council¡¯s reputation. If they fail a third time, the local economy could take another hit¡ªand the club may be held accountable for the missed opportunities.


    "Who funded the project this time?" Richard asked.


    "The construction of the new stadium was funded by Sport England ¡ê77 million and Manchester City Council ¡ê35 million."


    Richard did the math in his head. ¡¯Hmm, so that¡¯s approximately ¡ê112 million...¡¯


    Seeing Richard was about to do something crazy again, John became wary and warned him, "Even though the timeline and readiness may still be a while, backing out would cause significant disruption and political fallout. You¡¯ve got to consider the tension between the club, the city council, and the broader community."


    John actually wanted to cry. Working with Richard and the Lee Consortium, to be honest, was very different. With the Lee Consortium, there wasn¡¯t a mountain of work piling up, probably because they were used to bureaucracy, making the work flow more smoothly. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Working with Richard, however, was a different story. You never knew when, out of nowhere, he would say something completely unexpected, throwing everyone off balance. One minute things were going smoothly, and the next, he would introduce an entirely new idea or change the direction without warning.


    It was all part of the unpredictability. Yet, deep down, John also knew he couldn¡¯t back out. He sighed, pushing his doubts aside, and refocused on the task at hand.


    Richard, of course, didn¡¯t know this, and even if he did, he wouldn¡¯t care. There was a reason he had never recruited another director in the first place.


    The cleanup wasn¡¯t over. It was just that when someone still had value, you better be patient, because you needed to milk the last bit of usefulness first.


    Richard dismissed John¡¯s warning and casually asked, "You mentioned before that the current stadium project is competing with Wembley Stadium. Can you tell me more about that?"


    "It¡¯s all about where the funding goes. Wembley needs redevelopment because the infrastructure is outdated. After losing the bid for the Summer Olympics, they shifted their focus to the Commonwealth Games. If we win the bid, the funding will go toward our new stadium, but if we lose, the money will likely go toward redeveloping Wembley instead."


    Richard closed his eyes, reflecting on what happened to Manchester City during Sheikh Mansour¡¯s acquisition. Given the scale and aggressiveness of the development, the Etihad Stadium was expanded into more than just a football stadium, right?


    There was no way the stadium could still be owned by Manchester City Council by then. That could only mean one thing: they bought the stadium outright.


    Then how much would it have cost if Sheikh Mansour had bought the Etihad Stadium?


    If the current cost is around ¡ê112 million, in 2008 then... He quickly calculated the cost in his head, factoring in inflation and development scale.


    ¡¯Billion...¡¯ he murmured to himself. But something didn¡¯t sit right. ¡¯Wait, no. That can¡¯t be right. What¡¯s missing here?¡¯


    John noticed Richard¡¯s silence and couldn¡¯t help but ask, "You¡¯re not thinking about backing out, are you?"


    The mere thought of the financial backlash and potential legal consequences made his face drain of color.


    Richard shook his head. "Since we still have eight years until the games, could we change the agreement? Would that be possible?"


    John raised an eyebrow, trying to anticipate where this was going. In his mind, it was either renegotiating funding terms, offering a reduced scope by scaling down the current design, changing the location, or adding another investor to the deal. But that would cause major delays, as new plans would need to be submitted.


    He was about to advise rejecting the idea when Richard beat him to it. "We could adjust the timeline¡ªask for an extension for planning adjustments."


    "What exactly are you planning to do? And how long are you talking about?"


    "Hmmm..." Richard pondered for a moment but didn¡¯t elaborate. Instead, he simply asked for a two-year extension. "We can talk about it after that."


    John¡¯s eyes widened. "Two years? Impossible. The media will tear us apart. And Wembley will win the bid if we delay by that much."


    Richard could only look at John deeply before taking a deep breath. "How big is the land exactly for the new stadium development?" he asked calmly, still composed.


    John didn¡¯t answer immediately but checked the documentation before responding. "About 80 acres."


    80 acres, or roughly 320,000 square meters, would comfortably accommodate a large stadium along with additional spaces such as parking, training facilities, hospitality areas, and plazas.


    Richard¡¯s next question took John by surprise. "And the derelict land in Eastlands¡ªhow much is the government offering for private development?"


    John furrowed his brow, confused by the sudden shift in direction. He quickly checked the information. "About 200 acres."


    Richard was dumbfounded. For 200 acres, the total area would be 800,00 square meters, then.


    "What? They¡¯re offering 200 acres to private companies? No one lives there? They wouldn¡¯t just seize it by force, would they?"


    "No," John answered, shaking his head. "East Manchester has always been industrial. The area was heavily contaminated, so it¡¯s been designated for non-residential use."


    "Contaminated? What do you mean?" Richard reacted, clearly disturbed by the word.


    "The site was once home to Clayton Aniline Company, a firm that produced dyestuffs, and also Bradford Colliery coal mine. All of that area was government-approved as non-occupied area, so you can guess why the government wants to let the private sector take care of it."


    A dyestuff is a substance used to add color to materials like fabrics, yarns, or even food. Clayton Aniline, however, was primarily used in industries such as textiles and leather. The worst part was the coal mine. No wonder the government gave up on that area.


    Richard nodded, understanding now. It made sense, but it also presented a great opportunity for him. "So, can all private companies bid for the land?"


    "Yes," John confirmed, still unsure where this was leading. He continued, "Unless you¡¯re very rich or want to develop something like residential properties¡ªtownhouses, villas, mansions¡ªor commercial developments like shopping centers, university campuses, or business parks--"


    "Say that again?" Richard interrupted, squinting slightly.


    "What?"


    "The last thing you mentioned¡ªwhat was it again?"


    John looked puzzled. "What? Business parks?"


    "No, the one before that."


    "Shopping centers?"


    "Aish, forget it," Richard waved it off impatiently. Then, after a brief pause, his eyes lit up. He slapped his palm as the realization hit him.


    Etihad Campus!


    That¡¯s what was missing from the picture.


    ¡¯No wonder it felt incomplete.¡¯ Richard said, more to himself.


    Unfortunately, just as Richard was about to share his idea, the captain¡¯s voice came through the intercom.


    "Mr. Maddox, we¡¯ll be landing in approximately five minutes. Please return to your seat and fasten your seatbelt. We¡¯ll be landing shortly."


    Richard blinked, realizing how quickly time had passed. His mouth was half open, then he closed it again. He leaned back in his leather seat, brow furrowed.


    The idea was still raw¡ªbrilliant, yes, but too dangerous to share just yet.


    John glanced at him. "You were going to say something."


    "I was," Richard replied, rubbing his chin. "But not yet. Not until we land."


    ---


    P.S. Richard wasn¡¯t involved in City¡¯s management during the Swales and Lee eras, as he was focused on his agency and business.


    This Chapter is just an introduction, providing an update on how far the stadium project has progressed¡ªand how Richard will continue it. That¡¯s why the Chapter is titled Inheriting the Stadium Project.


    You could say that from this point on, Richard will be more involved in Manchester City¡¯s stadium planning, including the future Etihad Campus concept and City¡¯s SportCity development.

 Chapter 94: Unexpected Encounter

    Chapter 94: Unexpected Encounter"Bloody hell, it¡¯s freezing!" Richard muttered, pulling his coat tighter around himself as the cold wind bit at his face.


    John chuckled. "Welcome to Scotland, mate."


    Richard exhaled, watching his breath fog up in the crisp air. "I wasn¡¯t expecting it to be this cold." He rubbed his hands together briskly and glanced around. "John, first stop¡ªcoffee!"


    But John paused for a moment, checking his phone. His expression shifted slightly, becoming more serious."No¡ªyou go ahead first. I need to meet Ian."


    Richard blinked, "We just landed."


    John gave a small nod. "Exactly. This is a critical window¡ªwe can¡¯t afford to waste it. Besides, we¡¯re only here for a day."


    Richard smiled bitterly. This was exactly why he hesitated to fire John as the club¡¯s current general manager. Until he found the right replacement, it was better to keep someone who genuinely loved his job.


    "Ah, yes. Indeed..." Richard nodded in understanding. "Alright then. I¡¯ll be waiting here for the good news."


    John nodded and was already turning away.


    Richard watched him disappear into the cold morning crowd, then crossed the street and spotted a modest caf¨¦ nestled between a butcher¡¯s and a bookshop. It looked warm, inviting¡ªperfect.


    He stepped inside, the doorbell chiming softly above him.


    A wave of warmth, coffee, and the scent of breakfast wrapped around him like a blanket.


    "...and we¡¯re still receiving tributes from across the football world following the death of Sir Matt Busby, who passed away yesterday at the age of 84..."


    ¡¯Ah, they¡¯re still mourning...¡¯ Richard thought, tactful enough not to disturb anyone present.


    Former Manchester United manager Sir Matt Busby dies aged 84. He was a towering figure in British sporting history¡ªa symbol of resilience, rebuilding Manchester United from the ashes of the Munich Air Disaster in 1958 and leading them to European glory just a decade later.


    At a corner table, two older men in flat caps were deep in conversation¡ªspeaking just loud enough for Richard to catch fragments as he waited.


    "...never saw anyone rebuild a team like that after Munich... not in this day and age, I¡¯ll tell you that."


    "Aye, and the way he protected his boys. Busby was a giant. A real father figure."


    Richard made his way to the counter. The barista, a woman in her forties with auburn hair tied back under a black cap, gave him a nod.


    "Just a coffee, please. Black."


    "Okay, please wait a moment," she replied with a polite smile.


    While waiting for his coffee, Richard reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a scrap of paper, and began sketching out the best possible scenario for Manchester City¡¯s future.


    Of course, the most important aspect was performance on the pitch. Everything else came second. His current focus was on rebuilding the team. It had to be done step by step¡ªthere were no shortcuts.


    Competing in the Second Division meant adapting to the realities of the league. It wasn¡¯t glamorous football.


    The pitches were rough, the defenders even rougher. Trying to rely on elegant, technical play would only lead to disaster against teams that played with grit and aggression.


    That¡¯s why wing play¡ªparticularly crosses into the box¡ªremained a cornerstone tactic for many lower-league clubs.


    Strikers were often used as target men, staying positioned inside the box, waiting to head the ball into the net.


    It was an old-school approach, but in the lower leagues, it worked. It created chances, invited chaos, and forced defenders into uncomfortable situations. In fact, even looking ahead, this tactic would remain crucial well into the Premier League¡ªperhaps even for the next two decades.


    The role of wide players was already evolving. Full-backs were beginning to take on more attacking responsibilities, while traditional wingers were being asked to cut inside, switch flanks, and adapt. Flexibility was becoming the standard.


    "Wingers cross. Full-backs overlap. Midfielders arrive late. A simple blueprint, but effective," Richard wrote but then he sighed, "But for the current City... it feels like they¡¯ll need to reinvent themselves completely."


    Looking at the current City squad, he realized there were only a handful of players truly capable of playing wide. Paul Lake was one of the few with that kind, and perhaps Tony Grant¡ªthe loanee¡ªcould fill in when needed. But beyond that, the options were limited.


    But O¡¯Neill had asked for a midfielder who could defend¡ªnot someone to play out wide. That could only mean one thing: he already knew the situation. He was well aware of the lack of natural wide players in the squad.


    There was only one conclusion¡ªhe¡¯d be counting heavily on the tenacity and growth of the two young full-backs they¡¯d recently brought in: Cafu and Roberto Carlos, wouldn¡¯t he?


    Playing this kind of tactical guessing game made Richard feel oddly happy.


    It was exactly the kind of challenge he loved¡ªpiecing together puzzles, reading between the lines, trying to get into the mind of a manager. It gave him a quiet thrill, like he was part of something deeper than just numbers and contracts.


    "Sir, your coffee," the barista said gently as she placed the cup on the counter.


    "Oh¡ªyeah, thanks." Richard quickly folded the piece of paper he¡¯d been scribbling on and slipped it into his coat pocket.


    He took a cautious sip, letting the warmth spread through his chest. Then, giving the barista a thumbs-up, he smiled. "Delicious. Thanks."


    She grinned. "Glad you like it."


    After paying, just as he turned around¡ªBAM.


    He collided with someone who had just come through the entrance, clearly in a rush.


    Papers exploded into the air like startled pigeons, fluttering across the caf¨¦ floor.


    The woman gasped and froze in place, her cheeks turning crimson."Oh my God, I¡¯m so sorry! I didn¡¯t see you there!" she blurted out, clearly panicked and flustered. She hovered awkwardly, unsure whether to help or retreat.


    Thankfully, Richard had just grabbed his coffee tightly and managed to stay upright, so not a single drop spilled. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.


    Not wanting to make a fuss, he quickly placed the cup down on a nearby table and waved a hand dismissively."It¡¯s fine, don¡¯t worry about it. Bit of a mess, but we¡¯ll sort it out. Are you okay?"


    "I¡¯m okay, thanks," she mumbled, still not meeting his eyes as she crouched to gather her scattered pages.


    Richard, of course, also helped her¡ªafter all, it was simply too many papers, and the other customers were already looking in their direction.He couldn¡¯t help but curse his bad luck¡ªwas this some kind of sign that he was about to be kicked out of Scotland?


    But just as he reached for one of the papers, something caught his eye. At the top of the page, a title made his heart skip a beat¡ªHarry Potter and the Philosopher¡¯s Stone.


    He formed an "O" with his mouth. ¡¯No way...¡¯


    "Ah, Joanne!"


    The barista, who had just emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of clean cups, froze mid-step when she saw the customer she¡¯d just served and her younger sister crouched awkwardly on the floor surrounded by scattered papers.


    She hurried over, "Joanne, are you okay?"


    "I¡¯m fine, really," Joanne muttered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly flustered.


    The barista turned to Richard, also visibly apologetic. "I¡¯m so sorry about this. She¡¯s my sister. She just flew in last night and insisted on helping me this morning¡ªstill half asleep, probably."


    Richard gave a small, polite smile and waved his hand dismissively. "No worries at all. Really. Just a little accident¡ªnothing broken." He gestured toward the coffee cup on the table. "Even the coffee survived."


    "What happened?"


    The question this time came from a man who appeared behind the barista. He wore a flour-dusted apron and carried a tray of freshly baked croissants.


    And so began the fateful encounter between Richard and the Rowling family.


    The woman who collided with Richard was, of course, the main protagonist¡ªJoanne Rowling, better known by her pen name, J.K. Rowling. The barista turned out to be her sister, and the man who had just arrived carrying a tray of fresh croissants was her husband.


    And the reason why the future J.K. Rowling was in such a hurry that she bumped into Richard was because...


    "If I say ¡¯nose,¡¯ you point to your nose. If I say ¡¯eyes,¡¯ you point to your eyes," Richard explained eagerly.


    As soon as he finished speaking, a soft clapping followed¡ªclap clap¡ªaccompanied by a milky, childish voice.


    "Okay, okay! I wanna play!" The little girl bounced excitedly, adjusting her sitting posture.


    She looked like she was about to start but suddenly remembered something. With a quick wave of her chubby hand, she said, "Hand!"¡ªclearly asking for his hand.


    Richard was confused but stretched his hand out anyway. "Give you my hand? What do I do?"


    The adorably innocent two-year-old, Jessica Isabel Rowling Arantes, reached for his fingers. Her tiny, soft hands were too small to hold his entire hand, so she settled for grasping just two of his fingers¡ªone in each hand.


    After securing her grip, Jessica nodded seriously, as if the game was a matter of life and death. But in the very next second, her eyes twinkled mischievously, her lips curling into a playful smile. Acting as if nothing was unusual, she suddenly blurted out, "Nose!"


    The little girl¡¯s crisp voice shattered the "tense" atmosphere.


    Richard reacted very quickly this time¡ªalmost too quickly. He immediately raised his hand, but instead of pointing to his nose, he accidentally pointed to his eyes first.


    Realizing his mistake, he pretended to panic, his finger slowly sliding down from his eyes to his nose, as if trying to correct himself.


    His expression was one of exaggerated embarrassment, like he¡¯d been caught red-handed. But the little girl wasn¡¯t so easily fooled. She took the game very seriously. She instantly jumped up from her baby chair in protest.


    Alarmed, Richard hurriedly wrapped his arms around her, afraid she might fall. She snuggled up against his arm before dramatically opening her little mouth wide, ready to declare judgment.


    "I saw it! You twicked me! Hmph, bad guy!" she accused, her tiny voice full of righteous indignation.


    Richard burst into laughter. "Hahaha! Is that so?" he teased, ruffling her soft curls.


    Jessica pouted, narrowing her big, bright eyes at him.


    The sight made everyone watching chuckle in amusement. The caf¨¦ filled with gentle laughter as they watched the innocent joy of the little girl. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Joanne looked at her daughter¡¯s joyful expression with a warm smile¡ªbut then, that smile slowly faded. Her eyes grew misty, and she quickly wiped away a tear.


    It had been so long since she¡¯d seen her little girl laugh and play like this. Her heart ached as memories rushed in¡ªthe arguments, the tension, the fear that had pushed her to leave.


    For now, she planned to stay with her sister until at least Christmas. It was the safest place she could think of. But even then she felt a gnawing unease. She didn¡¯t want to overstay her welcome.


    Her sister and brother-in-law had already done so much for her. What she really wanted was to move forward¡ªto find a place of her own, to raise her daughter independently, to build a new life from the pieces of the old one.


    Still, her finances were tight. She had once thought about enrolling in a teacher training course but had held back, afraid she would end up doing everything halfway¡ªneither finishing the course nor the book she was secretly working on. She was stuck in limbo, torn between responsibilities and dreams.


    Sensing her sister¡¯s growing discomfort, the barista¡ªJoanne¡¯s sister¡ªgently placed a hand on her arm and gave her a reassuring smile. "It¡¯s okay. No one¡¯s going to trouble you here. I¡¯ll talk to your brother-in-law about it. You can stay as long as you need."


    Thinking Joanne was just upset about everything that had happened in her marriage, she offered no questions¡ªjust quiet, unconditional support.

 Chapter 95: Publishing Company Makes More Sense

    Chapter 95: Publishing Company Makes More SenseThe mother of Harry Potter: Joanne Catherine Rowling, or JK Rowling!


    The magical world of Harry Potter and its beloved characters were the brilliant creations of the future J.K. Rowling. With this godsend of a treasure sent right to his doorstep, how could Richard possibly let it slip through his fingers?


    Harry Potter + St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel = Billions.


    The author herself, unknowingly on the brink of creating a cultural phenomenon, was right there¡ªfrazzled, flustered, and entirely unaware of the legacy she would one day leave behind.


    Richard¡¯s instincts kicked in. He wasn¡¯t going to waste this moment. A billion-dollar combo was right in front of him now.


    Not now. Not ever.


    After playing with Jessica, the daughter of the future J.K. Rowling, the little girl soon grew drowsy. Her eyes grew heavy, and her mother gently tucked her into her stroller, her tiny thumb still tucked firmly in her mouth.


    As the stroller rolled forward, her soft curls bounced slightly with each movement. She blinked up at them dreamily, let out a big yawn, then snuggled deeper into her cushion¡ªlike a kitten curling into its nest.


    Peaceful. Content. Safe.


    The caf¨¦ was just that¡ªa caf¨¦. Not a home, not a place with extra rooms or cozy corners for naps. That¡¯s why Joanne always brought the stroller. It was the only way her daughter could get any rest during the day.


    Luckily, the caf¨¦ was owned by her sister and brother-in-law, so it was a safe and familiar space. She didn¡¯t feel alone here. There were always people around, the soft hum of conversation, the clink of cups, the comforting rhythm of daily life.


    As for why she chose to spend her days here instead of staying at her sister¡¯s house, Joanne had her reasons. Being alone at home felt like a waste¡ªespecially the electricity. She hated the thought of being a burden and the inconvenience to her sister¡¯s family, even in small ways.


    And more than that, the caf¨¦ had a certain magic. It was livelier, more inspiring. Watching people come and go, catching fragments of their conversations, seeing life unfold in small, ordinary ways¡ªit sparked her imagination.


    It helped her write. Somehow, it was easier to build new worlds here than in the silence of her sister¡¯s spare bedroom.


    After gently settling Jessica into the stroller and tucking a small blanket around her, Joanne turned to Richard, ready to thank him for entertaining her daughter.


    But before she could speak, the caf¨¦ door swung open with a sharp jingle.


    A man stepped inside.


    He wore a dark, neatly pressed suit, and despite the overcast skies outside, he had on sunglasses. His posture was stiff, eyes¡ªhidden behind the lenses¡ªswept across the caf¨¦ with precision, as if assessing every face, every corner.


    When he saw that the place wasn¡¯t crowded, he let out a small breath of relief. Slowly, he reached up to remove his sunglasses, revealing sharp eyes and a worn, haunted expression.


    Joanne¡¯s face turned ashen.


    Without thinking, she rushed toward her table, grabbing her old-fashioned typewriter and the incomplete manuscript of her Harry Potter story, clutching it close as if protecting a treasure from a thief.


    The caf¨¦ wasn¡¯t large to begin with¡ªjust a medium-sized space with a few tables and chairs pressed up against the walls¡ªso it was easy to notice every customer. The man¡¯s gaze locked onto her, and his eyes lit up.


    Without wasting a moment, he called out, "Joann¡ª"


    "Go away!" she screamed, startling everyone in the room.


    In the kitchen, her sister and brother-in-law¡ªwho had been busy preparing cakes for display¡ªwere shocked by the outburst. They hurried out to see what had happened.


    But as soon as their eyes landed on the man at the door, their expressions darkened.


    "How dare you!" her sister growled, rushing over and positioning herself protectively between Joanne and the man.


    "You wait right there!"


    Joanne then saw her brother-in-law pick up a rolling pin, gripping it tightly like a weapon. The sight made everyone in the caf¨¦ freeze in disbelief.


    "You bastard! How dare you come here?" he shouted, stepping forward.


    "Wait¡ªjust let me explain¡ª" Realizing how quickly the situation was spiraling¡ªand just how unwelcome he truly was¡ªthe man tugged his cap low over his face, shielding his expression.


    For a brief second, he hesitated. His eyes flicked toward his wife¡¯s table. He remembered how she always spent her days writing that "useless story." How precious it had been to her¡ªmore than he¡¯d ever understood.


    ¡¯Maybe... maybe if I grabbed it¡ª¡¯


    But then he looked up. Every pair of eyes in the caf¨¦ was locked on him. Even people outside had begun to gather at the window, watching, whispering, judging.


    He dismissed the idea instantly. Without another word, he turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the gray of the street beyond.


    That was a family matter, though.


    From beginning to end, Richard never intervened or acted like some kind of hero. He wasn¡¯t there to save the day¡ªwhat really caught his interest was the Harry Potter and the Philosopher¡¯s Stone manuscript. Now that the drama had passed, he finally turned his attention to the piece of paper he had been holding.


    It looked ordinary at first glance, but the neatly written English notes had a certain charm. The lines formed a short, whimsical story, and before he knew it, Richard was completely drawn in.


    Meanwhile, the Rowling family was still handling the aftermath of the earlier incident. With the caf¨¦ full of customers enjoying their meals and placing orders, the last thing they expected was any kind of drama.


    Wanting to keep the atmosphere calm, they focused on reassuring and attending to the guests first. It took another five to ten minutes before everything finally settled down. Only then did Joanne return to her manuscript, ready to sort through the pages once more.


    "Wait¡ªsomething¡¯s missing!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with panic.


    She flipped through the pages of her Harry Potter draft, but then spotted Richard quietly absorbed in reading. Letting out a soft sigh of relief, she relaxed.


    Richard, oblivious to the world around him, continued flipping through the pages, fully immersed. He didn¡¯t notice the presence beside him¡ªhis focus was locked on the magical tale unfolding before him. Every now and then, he¡¯d lift his coffee cup or take a bite of cake, all without looking away from the manuscript.


    Just as he was eagerly turning the next page, the story suddenly ended¡ªright at the part where Harry first meets Ron and Hermione on the train. The unexpected stop left him with a strange sense of emptiness, like waking from a dream too soon.


    Richard sighed and was about to stand when he realized someone was standing next to him. A mature woman with a slender figure and long golden hair that cascaded just past her shoulders. Her face was beautiful but tired, and when Richard met her eyes, he caught a fleeting sadness in her expression¡ªquickly replaced by a forced smile.


    Her long fingers were curled around the handle of a stroller. Inside, Jessica¡ªthe chubby little girl who had played with him earlier¡ªdozed peacefully, her expression soft and innocent in sleep.


    "Ah¡ªsorry, miss. It was just too good. I got completely lost in it," Richard said sheepishly as he handed the pages back to Joanne.


    She blinked in surprise, then smiled warmly. After all, what writer wouldn¡¯t feel joy when their work truly touched someone¡¯s heart?


    Joanne waved her hand with a gentle smile. "It¡¯s okay," she said.


    In truth, she was grateful to this man. He had taken the time to play with her daughter earlier, tiring the little girl out enough to fall asleep peacefully¡ªso much so that she didn¡¯t even notice her father¡¯s arrival.


    Thanks to his experience as an agent, Richard was skilled at communication, which helped ease the atmosphere quickly. Plus, his appearance¡ªjust like that of any other young man from the neighborhood¡ªwas non-threatening, with no flashy displays of luxury, allowing him to blend in naturally. Before long, the two of them were deep in conversation.


    "Miss, I really envy you¡ªbeing able to write such a good story," Richard said, his voice tinged with admiration and a hint of longing.


    Back when he wandered like a ghost, weighed down by loneliness, stories were his only escape. He had no one to talk to, no one to share a table or a laugh with. So sometimes, he would drift through places like cinemas or libraries, lingering quietly behind people who were lost in those fictional stories.


    In time, those screens and books became his silent companions. All of this made him want to create his own story¡ªto build a world where someone like him wouldn¡¯t feel so out of place. A world filled with meaning, connection, and just enough magic to remind people they weren¡¯t alone.


    Unfortunately, as a ghost, he couldn¡¯t touch a pen or paper. All he could do was stay silent, quietly following the hands of others as they flipped through books or changed channels on the TV.


    For a moment, he stared at the manuscript again, then looked up at Joanne with a faint smile."I guess... it reminded me of what it feels like to belong somewhere."


    "..."


    Joanne was surprised by his words. "Wait... do you want to be a writer too?" she asked without thinking.


    Richard was taken aback for a moment, then let out a light laugh. "No, no, Miss. I suppose I forgot to properly introduce myself," he said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a wallet and handed her a business card.


    Joanne didn¡¯t think much of it¡ªuntil her eyes landed on the name and title printed clearly in bold:


    [Richard Maddox, Chairman of the Board, Maddox Capital]


    Her expression shifted instantly. ¡¯This guy¡¯s so young... and already the chairman of a company?But Maddox Capital? Why had she never heard of it before?¡¯


    Richard gave a small cough and offered a modest smile. "It¡¯s just a small investment company of mine¡ªonly three employees at the moment, so don¡¯t think too much of it."


    After bringing in Fay from Paddy Power and Stuart Olm from the Islington Housing Council, Maddox Capital became a lean team of just three.


    In a typical private equity or venture capital firm, you¡¯d usually find several key roles depending on its size and structure.


    At the executive level (Leadership/Ownership), roles like CEO or General Partner are responsible for managing the firm¡¯s funds and overall investment direction. In Maddox Capital¡¯s case, Richard takes on all those responsibilities himself, serving as Chairman of the Board.


    The investment team, which often includes analysts, associates, and partners, doesn¡¯t exist at Maddox Capital. That¡¯s because all investment decisions come directly from Richard¡¯s own brain, so there¡¯s no need for a separate department.


    Lastly, there¡¯s the operations & support side. Fay now serves as Chief Operating Officer, handling day-to-day operations, internal reporting, and fund administration¡ªall reporting directly to him.As for Stuart Olm, thanks to his experience in government offices, he has taken on the role of Managing Director, responsible for maintaining high-level investor relationships, managing due diligence, and overseeing deal execution.


    Their conversation flowed easily, and eventually, Richard gently brought up the man from earlier¡ªand her sudden outburst.


    At first, she hesitated, unsure if she wanted to share something so personal. But feeling the need to release some of her frustration, she decided to open up, even if just a little.


    It turned out the man was her husband. Soon, Richard realized that future J.K. Rowling¡¯s current circumstances were actually quite difficult.


    She was in the midst of a divorce battle. Not only did she rely on government assistance to cover her living expenses, but she also didn¡¯t have a home of her own and was currently staying with her sister family.


    Richard paused for a moment in thought.


    Joanne was clearly destined for greatness¡ªwhich meant she would probably win her case eventually and, in time, become a renowned author. And that also meant an opportunity¡ªa chance to lend a hand and, perhaps, bring her on board before the world discovered her brilliance.


    Maddox Capital, his venture capital firm, had already acquired Rover Group in the automotive sector. Alongside his property investments, he had been eager to expand into entertainment and media¡ªbut never quite knew where to start.


    The unexpected encounter with J.K. Rowling felt like the breakthrough he had been waiting for¡ªmaybe even a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.


    Based on what she shared, the case itself was mostly a tug-of-war over custody and alimony¡ªsomething that, in Richard¡¯s eyes, could be easily handled. Perhaps he could even ask the team at Black Chambers to take care of it for her.


    "Miss Joanne," Richard said seriously, "please don¡¯t take this the wrong way¡ªI have no hidden intentions. It¡¯s just that your Harry Potter story truly captivated me." His gaze shifted to the manuscript in her hands, lingering there with quiet reluctance.


    He let out a small sigh and shook his head. "I¡¯d love to keep reading it, but I think it¡¯s better if I wait until you publish it. That way,"¡ªhe paused, offering a faint smile¡ª"everyone else will have the chance to be amazed too."


    He then seriously looked toward the mature woman in front, "Miss, as you know, I¡¯m from a venture capital firm. We don¡¯t just invest in companies¡ªwe invest in people. And you... your story, your imagination¡ªit¡¯s something truly rare. I believe Harry Potter is going to be something extraordinary. I don¡¯t need the world to validate it first. I already see the magic in it. So¡ª"


    He leaned forward slightly, his tone sincere. "Miss Joanne, as Chairman of Maddox Capital, I would like to formally invite you to join us... as our first author."


    "..." S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Miss Joanne was stunned. The offer had come out of nowhere, leaving her momentarily speechless. When she finally found her voice, she asked just one simple question.


    "Does your company even have a publishing house?"


    "..."


    Now it was Richard¡¯s turn to be speechless. How could he forget something so basic? He almost slapped his forehead¡ªthen remembered the staples on his scalp and wisely held back.


    Still, he kept his cool. With a calm smile, he looked at her and replied gently, "We can figure that part out later. What matters now is helping you get to a place where you can write freely. If there¡¯s anything I can do¡ªfinancial support, legal help, anything at all¡ªto help bring this story into the world... it would be an honor to be part of that journey."

 Chapter 96 - 1994/1995 Manchester City Club Portrait

    Chapter 96: 1994/1995 Manchester City Club PortraitThe weather that day was surprisingly pleasant, with bright sunlight that made it hard to believe they were still in Manchester. It was a stark contrast to the gloomy rain that had lingered over the past two days since Richard had returned from Scotland.


    A new manager. A new owner. A new season.


    Only three days remained until the start of the 1994¨C95 Second Division season, with City set to open at home against Blackpool.


    There were no plans for the match to be broadcast live¡ªbut for die-hard City fans, especially their notorious hooligan firm, it was the hottest topic of the weekend.


    That afternoon, after training, Richard sat in the director¡¯s box overlooking the Maine Road pitch, awaiting the arrival of two guests he had personally invited.


    The first was Ric Turner, a freelance web developer based in Manchester, best known as the founder and owner of Bluemoon-MCFC, an unofficial Manchester City Football Club website. Since technology was still in its early stages, the site was relatively basic.


    The second guest was Mikkel Jonas, the owner of the Bluefandk account on Bluemoon MCFC, visiting from Denmark. He had personally witnessed the brutality of the Guvnors during a Manchester City match.


    English football hooliganism has deep and dark roots, stretching back decades. It gave rise to well-organized firms that once terrorized cities across Europe.


    The violence was so intense that clubs like Manchester United and Leeds United were even banned from UEFA competitions during the 1970s.


    Take the Guvnors of Manchester City, for example. Before the season began, Richard personally reviewed the names of every known member and planned to ban them for life.


    The group had risen to prominence in the 1980s, a time when the government was actively trying to curb the growing violence at football matches. Guvnors weren¡¯t just brawling on the streets of Manchester; they were clashing with rival hooligan firms all over England¡ªespecially during the mid-1980s, when organized football hooliganism was at its peak across the country.


    The reason for their ban? It had to do with their dark history.


    The Guvnors were frequently criticized for allegedly attacking women and children on several occasions. One such claim even surfaced on the Bluemoon MCFC forum, further tarnishing their reputation, with Mikkel Jonas being a witness.


    That¡¯s why Richard invited these two guys to dig deeper into the information about Guvnors.


    "They always pretend to be tough in their fights. They never talk about the many cowardly attacks on women and children," Jonas said, frustration and anger written across his face.


    Richard glanced at John, seated beside him, and gave a small nod before turning back to Turner and Jonas.


    "So, only this name? No others?" Richard asked.


    Benion¡ªthe current leader of the Guvnors¡ªwas the name most frequently mentioned to Richard. He was notorious for his violent tendencies, often hiding behind the guise of social causes like anti-racism in football to justify or deflect criticism of his actions.


    Richard looked over the document detailing Benion¡¯s personal background, focusing especially on one quote he had once said: "In the end, those who cling to things like racism are just sheep. You can¡¯t have a democracy that¡¯s made up of only one culture. Democracy is about embracing differences," Benion had stated firmly.


    ¡¯Pretending to be a superhero?¡¯ Richard shook his head. He was the worst of them all. He then turned toward Turner and Jonas in front of him. "Is that all?"


    "No, I mean you need to ban not just the core members, but everyone on this list!" Jonas said anxiously. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The efforts from the English police and government to crack down on hooliganism had been intense¡ªbut even so, it was like cutting off one head only for a dozen more to grow in its place. No one could have predicted that from the ashes of a fallen group, a new and even more dangerous organization would rise.


    "From what I¡¯ve heard, it¡¯s not just Benion¡ªit¡¯s his friends, and then their friends too. That¡¯s what makes it all the more alarming. The network runs deep, and the influence spreads far wider than anyone expected."


    He then handed Richard another piece of paper and began explaining, "Some of Benion¡¯s friends have already formed a new group since the fall of the Guvnors after the police crackdown. A few of the members used to be part of the Cool Cats. You¡¯ve heard of them, right?"


    Richard gave a small nod. He hadn¡¯t known much about them initially, but ever since taking charge of City, he made it a point to understand the club¡¯s supporter culture.


    Cool Cats were a diverse, multi-ethnic group of Manchester City fans from the 1970s. Because of their background, they were often subjected to racist abuse¡ªespecially from rival fans, with Chelsea supporters being among the worst offenders at the time.


    Jonas continued, "I heard that since the time of Francis Lee, they¡¯ve already started recruiting people to form a successor to Guvnors¡ªsomething called the Main Line Motorway Service Crew. That¡¯s why..." he trailed off before continuing, "I¡¯m afraid this crew might end up being even more terrifying than Guvnors."


    "But there¡¯s already action being taken by the FA and the government, right?"


    Since Hillsborough disaster, England has tackled football hooliganism through a multi-pronged approach: stronger police presence, stadium improvements like all-seater arrangements and fan segregation to keep rival groups apart, increased CCTV surveillance, banning orders for alcohols and known troublemakers, even harsher penalties for violent offenses.


    Jonas shook his head slowly, a grim expression on his face. "Things might look better on paper, sure, but the streets tell a different story. The police have been trying to curb this kind of violence since the 1970s and 1980s¡ªyet they still can¡¯t stop these mass brawls."


    Richard nodded in understanding. Still, while banning someone like Benion might be possible, banning everyone associated with him wasn¡¯t so simple. He needed solid justification¡ªespecially since this was a new era under his leadership.


    Banning fans who hadn¡¯t been proven guilty of anything could be seen as baseless accusations or even favoritism toward other firms, which would only create more division. That would be slander. Maybe some of them had committed acts of violence during the Swales or Lee era, but Richard didn¡¯t have the evidence. Punishing them now wouldn¡¯t be fair.


    However, Richard also couldn¡¯t simply dismiss their opinions¡ªespecially since the two of them could become valuable allies in combating City¡¯s hooligan problem. On top of that, they could also serve as free marketing for Manchester City.


    He nodded in agreement. "I understand. But for now, we¡¯ll monitor them more closely¡ªespecially the names you gave me. We¡¯ll also coordinate with the police and the FA to ensure no violence breaks out."


    Then he looked at both Turner and Jonas more seriously. "But I also want to ask for your help. You both know the pulse better than we do. If anything feels off, if you hear anything, I need you to tell us immediately. Not just to protect the club¡¯s reputation¡ªbut to protect lives. I want City to move forward, not be dragged back into the darkness."


    Jonas and Turner exchanged a glance. Jonas gave a small nod. "We¡¯ll do what we can."


    Richard was satisfied with this. Done listening to Jonas and his concerns about City¡¯s firm, Richard turned toward Turner.


    "Turner, I¡¯ve heard about what you¡¯ve been doing with Bluemoon-website."


    Ric Turner instantly puffed out his chest with pride.


    Richard Maddox¡ªthe name was far from unfamiliar. He had clawed his way to the top to become City¡¯s sole owner. Not only that, his sharp eye for talent and his success as a football agent had earned him a strong reputation in the football world. Not to mention his high-profile acquisition of the Rover Group through his company, Maddox Capital.


    This was a billionaire praise!


    Being praised by someone of that caliber made Turner feel that everything he had worked on was truly worth it.


    Richard continued, "To be honest, if I could help you with your project, I¡¯d do it right away. But as you know, financially we can¡¯t support it¡ªbecause of the issue with independence and authenticity."


    Most fanbases value their independence. If a club starts funding them, fans might be seen as being "bought" or controlled ¡ª losing the raw, passionate, sometimes critical voice that makes fandom authentic. This to avoid creating the perception of favoritism or interference. Nobody wants to be a PR puppet.


    "However," Richard continued, speaking seriously, "that doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t engage with or support fanbases¡ªit¡¯s just about maintaining a clear line."


    He leaned forward slightly, his tone firm but encouraging."So, since you¡¯re interested in being involved with digital journalism, I¡¯m going to grant Bluemoon-MCFC the same level of access and privileges as the Official Manchester City Magazine. You¡¯ll get media passes, early press releases, and exclusive content."


    Manchester City launched its first official club magazine in the 1967¨C68 season, the brainchild of the club¡¯s first-ever press officer, Dick Carpenter. It had since become a direct bridge between the club and its supporters. Now, Carpenter was very old and already preparing for retirement.


    As a tribute to Carpenter¡¯s invaluable contributions, Richard had no intention of letting him go, even though the veteran was now well into retirement age. Instead, he planned to appoint Carpenter¡¯s daughter¡ªherself a journalist like her father¡ªto carry on the legacy he had built.


    Turner¡¯s eyes lit up with excitement. This was more than he expected. Recognition from the club itself, especially under a new regime, was a big step forward¡ªnot just for Bluemoon-MCFC, but for independent fan journalism as a whole.


    "Ah, they¡¯re here," Richard said, cutting off the conversation as he pointed toward the Maine Road pitch.


    Their attention was drawn to a new arrival¡ªthe woman now in charge of Manchester City¡¯s official club magazine.


    Sadie Carpenter walked onto the pitch alongside her father, the club¡¯s long-serving press officer who had taught her everything he knew. They were accompanied by a small media crew, carrying cameras and helping to arrange chairs on the pitch.


    Shortly after, they saw O¡¯Neill and his staff gathering the players. He instructed them to put on their official home kits and called over the first-team coaches to join the session. The coaches sat neatly in front while the players lined up behind them in two orderly rows, forming a fan-like shape based on their height.


    Bathed in the glow of the bright Manchester sun, O¡¯Neill sat at the center of the front row, his demeanor warm and slightly smiling, while the surrounding coaches wore relaxed expressions. In contrast, the players behind them displayed serious faces as Sadie signaled to the photographer to capture the best angles with the optimal lighting for the perfect shot.


    Manchester city 1994/1995.


    Manager Martin O¡¯Neill, Assistant John Robertson, Coaches Steve Walford, Ren¨¦ Meulensteen, and Steve McClaren, Goalkeeping Coach Terry Gennoe, Youth and Reserves Coach Willie McStay, and Dom¨¨nec Torrent.


    Starting XI: Shay Given, Cafu, Sol Campbell, Ian Cox, Roberto Carlos, Ian Taylor, Tony Grant, Steve Lomas, Paul Lake, Ronaldo, Emile Heskey.


    Bench: Tony Coton, Nicky Weaver, Richard Edghill, Tony Vaughan, Nick Fenton, Richard Jobson, Keith Curle, Ian Ferguson, Mike Phelan, Jamie Pollock, Jeff Whitley, Keith Gillespie, Graham Fenton, Paul Dickov, Shaun Goater, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer.


    The photographer climbed atop the chair to capture the striking image of the proud first-team players alongside their coach from a slightly elevated perspective.


    After the team¡¯s "family portrait" for the 1994-95 season was taken, Richard bid farewell to Turner and Jonas, asking John to accompany them before turning his attention toward the pitch.


    "Sadie," Richard called, as he turned toward the young woman, who radiated energy like a burst of sunshine.


    "Yes, boss?" she responded with a smile, her attention immediately on him.


    "Give me one shot," he said.


    Sadie pouted, thinking that this new owner was very narcissistic, but still, she pulled her camera from the bag slung over her shoulder. She moved quickly, the lens capturing the moment as Richard stood with his hands in his pockets, exuding a somewhat aloof demeanor, reminiscent of a young mob boss.


    Once the photographs were printed, Richard instructed the staff to display the family portrait in the club¡¯s corridor, while the striking, cool image of the first team with their coach would be enlarged for promotional purposes.


    The next day, fans flipping through the official Manchester City magazine or Bluemoon-MCFC website were greeted by an unexpected sight¡ªposters of the new squad proudly displayed outside the club. If they scrolled further down the Bluemoon site, they¡¯d find Richard striking a pose with the iconic Maine Road pitch in the background.


    "What an asshole," one fan muttered, clearly unimpressed by Richard¡¯s over-the-top pose. It was like he was trying to channel the vibe of a slick, 90s gangster film.


    In just three months, from the manager and staff to the players, City had undergone a remarkable transformation. While the future remained uncertain, one thing was for sure¡ªthe present was undeniably vibrant.


    ---


    Current City Non-Sporting Management:


    Chairman: Richard Maddox


    General Manager: John Maddock


    Official Club Secretary: Miss Heysen


    Solicitor (Legal): Frank Shepherd


    Barrister: Gordon Barry


    Kit Manager: Jimmy Rouse


    Official Manchester City Magazine: Sadie Carpenter


    For Sporting Management, only two remain: Scouts: None, Physio: Gerrard Moddie, originally a fitness coach, also holding additional responsibilities, along with his team.

 Chapter 97: First Blood

    Chapter 97: First BloodMaine Road was packed to capacity by 3 PM on August 12th, with City¡¯s anthem echoing through the tight confines of the stadium.


    This marked Richard¡¯s first official appearance as Manchester City¡¯s true owner, and he was determined to present a more approachable demeanor with both the fans and media.


    Arriving early, he readily engaged with reporters, handling their questions effortlessly. He answered each query with ease, bantering playfully with them.


    As for the articles that would follow, he gave them little thought; what he sought was recognition¡ªafter all it would reflect positively on City. As long as no defamatory claims led to legal battles, he was indifferent to speculative articles disguised as journalism.


    Once he finished with the media, Richard made his way to the director¡¯s box, where John was already waiting.


    "How¡¯s the attendance?" he asked.


    An expectant crowd of over 29,000¡ªthe highest third-tier attendance in over five years¡ªfilled the stands, each fan eagerly anticipating the debut of the young Brazilian Richard had personally brought over from South America.


    The energy in the stadium was palpable as the minutes counted down to his first appearance on the pitch. Richard, standing in the VIP section, surveyed the scene, knowing this player could be the key to revitalizing the team. The pressure was immense, but the potential was undeniable.


    Richard sighed and then turned toward John, shaking his head. "If only Francis Lee had focused on the development of Kippax, we could have expected a jump in attendance¡ªmaybe even breaking the 30,000 mark. What a shame."


    "Manchester City players," Soon he heard the commentator¡¯s announcement.


    His deep voice echoed from a large speaker positioned at the corners of the stands. "Shirt number 1: Shay Given, number 2: Cafu, number 23: Sol Campbell, number 15: Ian Cox, number 3: Roberto Carlos, number 8: Ian Taylor, number 10: Tony Grant, number 7: Steve Lomas, number 22: Paul Lake, number 9: Ronaldo, number 21: Emile Heskey..."


    City¡¯s lineup had an average age in their early twenties, featuring players like Ronaldo, Emile Heskey, Roberto Carlos, Cafu, and Shay Given, while Blackpool¡¯s squad was composed of seasoned veterans.


    From the outset, Blackpool seized control, launching relentless waves of long balls that put immense pressure on City¡¯s defense.


    Sam Allardyce, Blackpool¡¯s current manager, certainly wasn¡¯t going to miss the opportunity to secure three points in the opening match, so his team came out firing on all cylinders from the start.


    From the duo of Lee Thorpe and Andy Watson, to midfielders Tony Ellis and Jon Sunderland, and their dependable center-back Mark Bonner, Blackpool showed their experience and determination.


    The atmosphere was strangely passive, and John could sense himself growing bored. He leaned toward Richard¡¯s ear and whispered, "Should we give O¡¯Neill a little reminder? This is different from the pre-season, they seem too tense."


    The "they" John referred to were the Brazilian lads, who had been dominating every club in the recent pre-season.


    Richard¡¯s eyes widened at the sudden suggestion. "What the hell?!" he exclaimed, causing everyone seated around the director¡¯s box to turn and stare at them.


    Realizing all eyes were on him, Richard quickly cleared his throat, waved his hand in apology, and leaned closer to John. "What the fuck? What do you mean by reminder? Are Lee the type to meddle on the pitch?" S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    When Richard first joined Manchester City¡¯s management, he had only ever sat in the director¡¯s box once, during the Swales era, when he first came on board.


    After that, as their relationship soured, Richard made it a point never to step foot in the director¡¯s box again. Even more so during the Lee consortium era, he never communicated with them at all.


    John, taken aback by Richard¡¯s response, blinked in surprise. "No, no, not at all," he replied, trying to calm the situation. "I just meant maybe a little nudge, you know? Just to make sure they¡¯re staying focused. But I didn¡¯t mean anything more than that."


    Seeing John deny it, Richard shook his head.


    It¡¯s generally considered bad for an owner to intervene on the pitch or in the day-to-day management of the team. Football clubs operate under a hierarchical structure, with roles clearly defined for the coach, managers, and players.


    Owners typically have an overseeing role and should trust the professionals they¡¯ve hired to make decisions related to the team¡¯s performance. Otherwise, it creates unnecessary tension, as public perception suggests that they has no faith in its coaching staff. In some cases, overstepping boundaries could lead to distractions and confusion about who is truly in charge.


    Richard had already made up his mind to search for a replacement for John as soon as possible.


    This guy... he was dangerous.


    Still, he didn¡¯t say a word or even change his expression. Without blinking, he replied, "They haven¡¯t found their rhythm yet. No worries, let them find their own feel for the game. Our defensive line has been surprisingly steady; that¡¯s a good sign¡ªif we can avoid conceding, that¡¯s already a positive outcome."


    The combination of Campbell and Cox provided solid aerial defense, and although Cox occasionally surged with overzealousness, Roberto Carlos on the left was there to cover for him. The threats towards the backline remained mere false alarms.


    It was just their midfield that was truly lacking. The gaps were evident¡ªtoo many balls were lost in the middle of the park, and the lack of a creative force left the forwards isolated, struggling to link up effectively. The team¡¯s rhythm was sluggish, and without a central figure to dictate play, it was hard to see any real flow.


    Richard knew something had to change there, and soon.


    In the 40th minute, with just five minutes remaining before the break, Paul Lake was making a determined run through midfield.


    He had just received the ball from Cafu and was looking to control it as he advanced forward, his eyes scanning for options.


    He quickly glanced to his right to spot a teammate, but before he could make his move, Blackpool¡¯s Jon Sunderland had already read the play. He was closing in fast, eyes locked onto his every step, anticipating the moment when the ball would be played just ahead of him.


    Lake, sensing Sunderland¡¯s approach, decided to take a risk. The past three seasons had been a nightmare for him.


    First, a serious knee injury that threatened to derail his career, followed by a bitter dispute with the club owner, Peter Swales, who had accused him of faking the injury to avoid playing and wasting the club¡¯s money.


    Thankfully, during that difficult period, Richard Maddox, one of City¡¯s directors, had stepped in and helped speed up his recovery. (Chapter 55: Richard, with his connections, helped Paul Lake recover from his cruciate ligament injury)


    The injury had deeply affected his confidence, and under Alan Ball¡¯s management, he found himself sidelined for much of the next two season, leaving him largely forgotten.


    ¡¯This is my chance to prove myself again, to show everyone what kind of player I am,¡¯ Paul told himself, deciding now was the time to make a statement.


    As Sunderland closed in, Lake knew he couldn¡¯t let this opportunity slip by. Despite not feeling as sharp as before, he was determined to push through the discomfort and make something happen.


    Sunderland lunged forward, eyes locked on the ball, anticipating a tackle.


    Lake, seeing this, prepared to strike the ball with his right foot, making it seem like he was about to play it in that direction.


    "Now!" Lake shifted his weight slightly to the left in a feint, quickly dragging the ball to the right.


    It was a perfect fake kick.


    The commentators were in awe, "What a brilliant piece of skill from Paul Lake!" one of them exclaimed. "A masterclass in deception! Sunderland completely buys the feint, and Lake is through!"


    The other commentator chimed in, "You can see the confidence returning to him. After all those setbacks, he¡¯s showing his class tonight. This could be the spark he¡¯s needed."


    The crowd reacted immediately, a collective gasp as they saw Lake sidestep Sunderland and charge forward.


    Sunderland was fooled, and Lake was able to slip past him. His heart raced with adrenaline, and for a brief moment, he was consumed by the excitement of breaking through the defense.


    But just as he was about to push the ball forward and leave Sunderland behind, he was reminded that football wasn¡¯t just a one-on-one game¡ªit was 11v11.


    Tony Ellis, Sunderland¡¯s partner in Blackpool¡¯s midfield, saw his teammate beaten and decided to abandon his position. He charged in from the other side, extending his boot just as Lake tried to push the ball forward.


    Clean but forceful connection.


    Ellis¡¯s foot collided with Lake¡¯s right leg just above the ankle with a sharp thud.


    The impact was instant, and Lake immediately felt a surge of pain. The familiar sting flooded his senses.


    "AAAAAAARRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!"

 Chapter 98: Let’s Go!

    Chapter 98: Let¡¯s Go!"OOOH! That¡¯s a big hit!" the commentator shouted, his voice filled with concern. "A perfect challenge from Ellis, but it looks like Lake is in real trouble here!"


    Lake collapsed to the ground, clutching his knee in agony. His face contorted in pain as he lay on the pitch, his fingers digging into his knee as if trying to hold it together. Time seemed to slow as the pain took hold.


    The crowd¡¯s reaction was a mixture of concern and frustration. Some were on their feet, urging Lake to get up, while others looked on with bated breath, hoping he wasn¡¯t seriously hurt. Only after seeing Lake¡¯s scream and his face twisted in agony did they calm down.


    Even the Blackpool fans, who would normally cheer a good challenge, fell quiet, sensing the seriousness of the moment.


    PHWEEEEE!!


    The referee blew his whistle urgently and rushed over to check on Lake, while his teammates gathered around, faces filled with concern. The crowd, equally anxious, held their breath, waiting for any sign that Lake would be okay.


    Richard, from the director¡¯s box, was visibly enraged. His face turned crimson as he leaned forward, pointing furiously at the pitch. "What was that?!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the tension in the stadium. "That¡¯s a foul! A clear foul! How is that not a booking?!"


    The fans around him were stunned by the outburst, but soon some began to echo his frustration.


    A few of them stood up, "Yeah, that¡¯s a foul! How is that not a booking?!" they shouted, their voices rising in unison.


    "Come on! He¡¯s got to give a yellow for that!" another shouted


    Now it was Richard¡¯s turn to be stunned. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. ¡¯With the new stadium, I promised the director¡¯s box would be soundproof, but hell, it can be switched to non-soundproof whenever we need it.¡¯


    He gestured toward the sleek, state-of-the-art facilities, the polished glass windows offering a panoramic view of the pitch. "We spent millions on this, and now I¡¯m just realizing we¡¯ve got the technology to flip the switch anytime¡ªmake it as loud or as quiet as we want," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.


    "Hey, calm down, calm down," John¡¯s voice suddenly broke through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.


    "Hey, guys, tone it down, would you?" Richard quickly followed up, trying to calm the person beside him who had already stood up.


    Just three days ago, he¡¯d been warned about some crazy individuals. There was no way he was going to let anything ruin his first official match.


    Here¡¯s why English football hooliganism thrived in the first place. It¡¯s not just a coincidence that people have such violent tendencies.


    For the English, football is a tough, no-holds-barred sport, where passion and grit are paramount. Players who shy away from physical confrontations or battles for the ball risk losing the respect of the fans.


    The rougher you play, the happier the people are, as long as you don¡¯t cross the line. Fans do not applaud based on whether their team¡¯s playstyle is conservative or flamboyant, nor do they abandon their spirited chants when the team falls behind.


    For them, loyalty¡ªoften spanning generations¡ªis unwaveringly pledged to a singular club, regardless of whether that club is at its lowest or on top. The fans who sing, "We¡¯re Not Really Here," embody this loyalty particularly well.


    If current City and Blackpool were to play in Spain, at venues like Camp Nou or the Bernab¨¦u, they would undoubtedly face a chorus of boos from the fans. However, here, even in moments where the team seemed disadvantaged¡ªwhether it¡¯s a clearance, a tackle, or a collision¡ªregardless of its legality, the crowd would applaud both sets of supporters.


    That¡¯s why Ronaldo, Cafu, and Roberto Carlos, who only tried to play with non-league teams, struggled. Richard could see they were playing cautiously, as they were entering a foreign league with a unique culture they needed to adapt to.


    Had they faced clubs like Birmingham or Blackpool in a friendly, things might have played out differently.


    As the first half came to a close, O¡¯Neill, staying true to his style as a "player-manager," wasn¡¯t the first to stride down the tunnel. Instead, he waited, giving each player a pat on the shoulder, one by one. After the last player had passed, he followed behind them.


    With the score at 0-0, City had been largely confined to defensive duties during the first half. While they were commendably resolute, there was a distinct lack of effective and fluid attacking play, especially considering O¡¯Neill¡¯s tactical directives, which restricted all players except the center-backs from making aimless long balls.


    The players trudged into the locker room, heads down, exhausted from the first half. O¡¯Neill followed them in, his mind already turning over what needed to be done.


    Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Players slumped on benches, their bodies soaked with sweat.


    Steve Lomas, the center midfielder, angrily threw his water bottle against the wall. "This isn¡¯t working!" he snapped. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    No one disagreed.


    O¡¯Neill stepped in, closing the door behind him. Silence fell. He let it linger for a moment before speaking.


    "We¡¯re abandoning the wings now," he said firmly.


    The players looked up in shock.


    "What?" Tony Grant, Paul Lake¡¯s partner on the wing, wiped sweat from his brow. "Coach, I can play in the midfield!"


    "That¡¯s why you¡¯re getting substituted," O¡¯Neill said, slapping him hard across the shoulder, sending a wave of anger through Grant.


    As a senior player, Grant¡¯s pride was on the line.


    "What? Did you say something?" O¡¯Neill stepped forward, towering over him.


    Everyone was surprised by this. Usually, O¡¯Neill was approachable, even friendly. But today, he seemed different.


    Indeed, there was no room for negotiation. His discipline was non-negotiable. Rules were his foundation, and when someone challenged his directives, he saw it as a breach of team integrity.


    "N-no, coach," Grant quickly shut his mouth. The season was long, and he definitely didn¡¯t want to get into trouble with the new manager.


    O¡¯Neill nodded in approval. "We don¡¯t have the legs to play wide now that Paul is injured. Tony, you¡¯re versatile enough to adapt to the middle," he said, walking over to the tactics board and wiping it clean. "But now it¡¯s not about adapting. We need to chase the score. So, we change now."


    He grabbed a marker and drew a new formation on the board. "We¡¯re going with a 4-1-3-1-1. Keith, you¡¯ll replace Tony as defensive midfielder. Ian, I hope you¡¯re ready to step in for Paul."


    At the mention of his name, Ian Ferguson straightened his back. "I¡¯m ready, coach," he replied confidently.


    Ian Ferguson, the new loanee from Rangers, hadn¡¯t played in the friendly match, but he was familiar with the system. After all, the Scottish league wasn¡¯t much different from English football.


    O¡¯Neill nodded. "Right. We¡¯ll switch to a 4-1-3-1-1. We¡¯ll sit deeper, stay compact, and counter quickly. Cafu and Roberto, don¡¯t worry about losing your positions. Keith will cover for you, but make sure you track back quickly when needed."


    He pointed to the midfield. "Steve, Ian, and Taylor, you¡¯ll win possession and attack immediately. We stop wasting energy pressing and start using it for fast transitions¡ªdirect, fast, aggressive. Don¡¯t worry about defense; Curle, Sol, and Ian will cover. Now, we attack their middle."


    Then he turned toward Emile Heskey. "Emile, today I¡¯m keeping my promise to make you a starter. I hope it¡¯s a good experience for you, but now, I¡¯m sorry, we¡¯re chasing the score."


    "Don¡¯t worry, coach, I understand," Emile said with a smile. Barely 17, his time was still ahead of him.


    Finally, O¡¯Neill turned to the forwards. "Ole, are you ready?"


    "Yes, coach," Solskjaer replied.


    There was a reason Ole only came on in the second half¡ªhe¡¯d been knocked out with the flu. This morning, O¡¯Neill couldn¡¯t tell whether to laugh or cry, watching his nose as red as a tomato.


    "Then you¡¯ll sub in for Emile," Still, O¡¯Neill said, locking eyes with his striker. "We need you to keep their defense on edge."


    And then came the trump card.


    "Ronaldo," O¡¯Neill said seriously.


    ¡¯I think I can see and understand even better how multifunctional he is,¡¯ O¡¯Neill thought to himself, quietly admiring Ronaldo¡¯s versatility.


    You have players who are only good when they receive the ball in a certain part of the pitch. Some attackers are just really good in the box. This leaves a lot of responsibility on other players to get them the ball exactly where they want it.


    Ronaldo was different. He loved to drop to the midfield, to receive the ball. Once he got the ball, defenders could only watch him zoom by like he had rocket boosters strapped to his boots. He was incredibly skilled.


    Of course, he wasn¡¯t perfect, so O¡¯Neill¡¯s instructions were clear: "Ronaldo, you¡¯ll play behind Ole, and you can play freely. Treat it like a training match. Just express yourself. But..." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Attack their left flank. Roberto will cooperate with you."


    With Paul Lake¡¯s injury seeming severe, all the previous formations became jumbled, so this new formation came to his mind. They were now back to square one, as this was the time to shape the team, focusing on establishing a solid foundation, once again.


    After encouraging his players, O¡¯Neill clapped his hands to get their attention.


    "I firmly believe in you¡ªall of you are the finest. Truly, ask me a hundred times, and I will respond a hundred times: you are the best. I hope you all feel the same as we face the challenges ahead. You must leave your mark here. Do not come and go in obscurity. Fight for this club, fight for yourselves. Engrave your names in the annals of victory. As long as we persist, I truly believe we can overcome any obstacle that stands in our way and climb to the top of Europe and the world," he said before clapping his hands. "Let us unite and turn these dreams into reality. Go for it!"


    "Let¡¯s go, guys!"


    "Let¡¯s go!"


    "Yeah, let¡¯s go!"


    "Come on!"


    Once O¡¯Neill finished, he turned and flung open the locker room door, leading the way onto the field. Behind him, the Manchester City team members echoed in unison, filled with determination.

 Chapter 99: Important Milestones

    Chapter 99: Important Milestones"Manchester City have made three changes during the break as we head into the second half here at Maine Road. Emile Heskey is off for Ole Gunnar Solskj?r, Tony Grant makes way for Keith Curle, and Paul Lake¡ªwho picked up an injury in the first half¡ªis replaced by Ian Ferguson. Looks like the manager is looking to shake things up after a tough opening 45 minutes," the commentator announced.


    21 Emile Heskey ? 31 Ole Gunnar Solskj?r


    10 Tony Grant ? 4 Keith Curle


    22 Paul Lake ? 24 Ian Ferguson


    As both teams¡¯ players emerged from the tunnel, the home and away coaches stood at the sidelines.


    O¡¯Neill, with his jacket unbuttoned and hands in his pockets, wore an impassive expression. Meanwhile, Sam Allardyce summoned his team¡¯s captain, ominously lecturing him about something. His expression was fierce enough to suggest he wanted to devour him whole.


    The referee soon blew his whistle, and the match started with a Blackpool kick-off.


    Allardyce¡¯s players charged forward from the very first minute, as if fueled by steroids, a subtle smirk forming on his lips.


    The cheers of City fans echoed endlessly in Maine Road Stadium, and the match seemed overwhelmingly one-sided after it began. Blackpool¡¯s attacks came in waves, with the ball spending most of its time flying around City¡¯s half.


    "Roberto!" O¡¯Neill shouted toward the left-back, who was sprinting down the field in front of him.


    "Remember my instructions," he yelled. "And don¡¯t forget to pass them on to the rest."


    "Yes, coach," Roberto Carlos nodded.


    As the match progressed into the second half, Manchester City finally cashed in on their superior possession.


    Richard sighed again and again at the effectiveness of O¡¯Neill¡¯s halftime message¡ªit had clearly made a difference. All the players were focused, playing with ambition while taking minimal risks as they bore down on Blackpool¡¯s defense.


    Now Richard could see they were showcasing great teamwork, exchanging short passes and executing one-twos, waiting patiently to unlock Blackpool¡¯s defense and hit them swiftly on the break.


    He remembered what O¡¯Neill had told him before the season began: ¡¯If players are allowed to attack recklessly, the defense will inevitably become disjointed. That¡¯s why, in the early stages, overall defense is crucial. Every player is part of the defensive system, so building defensive awareness and chemistry must come first. For now, my priority is spacing¡ªeach player needs to stay connected and maintain close contact with the teammates around them.¡¯


    This is why, despite Keith Curle¡¯s good passing and defensive capabilities, he didn¡¯t meet O¡¯Neill¡¯s standards for spatial awareness. In the end, Ian Ferguson was brought in on loan from Rangers.


    In the 66th minute, the change finally came. Richard instantly stood up.


    Roberto Carlos and Cafu were relentless down the flanks, surging up the left and right sides like men on a mission. Their overlapping runs stretched Blackpool¡¯s defensive shape wider and wider, pulling it apart and creating the very opening City had been waiting for.


    With space finally carved open, Keith Curle spotted the gap and slipped a sharp pass into midfield, where Ronaldo had dropped deep to receive.


    Ronaldo took a quick glance over his shoulder and scanned the field ¡ª and there it was: Solskj?r, making a perfectly timed run straight between the two center-backs. He knew exactly what to do.


    In one fluid motion, he sold the illusion. He looked to his left, making his marker believe he was about to pass to Steve Lomas, who was already waiting in space. But instead, as the ball arrived, Ronaldo simply nudged it forward with the outside of his foot¡ªa gentle, effortless touch.


    The ball slid through the middle with pinpoint precision. The center-backs failed to track Solskj?r¡¯s run in time, and by the time they reacted, the ball had already reached him.


    Solskj?r latched onto it in full stride, taking just one touch before firing. With the goalkeeper rushing out and diving to cover his near post, Solskj?r calmly slotted the ball into the far corner, past the keeper¡¯s outstretched arm.


    In one fluid motion, he sold the illusion. His eyes shifted to the left, drawing his marker into believing he was about to pass to Steve Lomas, already waiting in space. But as the ball arrived, Ronaldo didn¡¯t hesitate. With a subtle flick of the outside of his foot, he nudged it forward.


    Simple, effortless and precise.


    The pass slipped cleanly through the gap, cutting straight through the heart of the defense. The center-backs were caught off guard¡ªonly then did they realize the middle had been left wide open.


    By the time they reacted, Solskj?r was already in behind. He latched onto the ball in full stride, taking just one touch before firing.


    With the goalkeeper rushing out and diving to cover his near post, Solskj?r calmly slotted the ball into the far corner, past the keeper¡¯s outstretched arm.


    "And it¡¯s in! Solskj?r finishes a brilliant move! Ronaldo with the vision, the weight, the touch¡ªperfection! The defense stood still, and the keeper had no chance!" the commentator roared over the noise of the stadium.


    In the stands, Maine Road exploded. Fans leapt from their seats, scarves waving in the air, the roar of celebration surging like a wave across the terraces.


    "We¡¯re Not Really Here~" chants rang out, drowning even the commentator¡¯s voice for a moment.


    On the opposite touchline, Allardyce was fuming. His face turned a deeper shade of red as he barked orders, but no one seemed to listen¡ªhis fury swallowed whole by the chaos of celebration, as Solskj?r had already slid on his knees, carving a trail across the grass.


    Richard clenched his fists and let out a roar, matching the eruption of the crowd around him. Finally, Manchester City had managed to score their first goal


    1:0


    After this goal, City began to relax and play with more openness.


    "If you¡¯re drunk you will die, if you don¡¯t drink you will die, so it¡¯s better to be drunk than be sober when you die... just like the fans of the invisible man... we¡¯re not really here".


    From the 66th minute until the final whistle, the City fans never stopped singing. The score may not have changed, but the atmosphere stayed electric¡ªbecause it marked the end of a painful 19-match winless streak, and for the fans, that alone was worth every cheer.


    Unfortunately for Richard, he didn¡¯t get to see the match through to the final whistle.


    In the 88th minute, he had to leave the stadium early and make his way to Birmingham¡ªmore precisely, to the Solihull Plant, the heart of Land Rover production and the administrative headquarters of Rover.


    The reason was simple: Alan Mulally, the man who had saved Ford from the brink of collapse, had finally accepted their offer to become CEO, and today marked his internal introduction and alignment.


    When a new CEO is appointed, they typically host a presentation to introduce themselves, share their vision, and set the tone for their leadership. After that, they meet with key executives and departments¡ªthrough one-on-one or group meetings¡ªto understand the company¡¯s current position and challenges.


    Since it was a company-wide presentation, he as the largest shareholder of course his attendance was essential.


    The drive to Solihull Plant took about 1 hour and 45 minutes, and he set off in his Porsche, cutting through the motorway traffic with purpose.


    As he settled in behind the wheel, he tuned into the radio.


    [The Camelot Group consortium wins the contract to run the UK¡¯s first National Lottery...]


    "Ah no, I¡¯ve already given up betting," Richard mumbled as he changed the channel.


    Click!


    [...The first MORI poll since Tony Blair became Labour Party leader gives him a massive boost in his ambition to become Prime Minister, with his party polling at 56%¡ªa 33-point lead over the Conservatives...]


    Richard fell silent as political chatter buzzed from the speakers. Behind the wheel, his eyes stayed fixed on the road, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere.


    Politics.


    Not something he usually bothered with¡ªyet it was everywhere. And increasingly, it felt important. Especially for a man like him: a businessman and now, the owner of a football club.


    A shift was coming. And with it, economic policy, labor relations, public spending¡ªeverything would change. Industries like automotive, real estate, even media would be right in the crosshairs.


    New taxes? New regulations? Or perhaps... new opportunities?


    He didn¡¯t know yet.


    "Hmm... politics," Richard muttered, tapping the steering wheel thoughtfully.


    ¡¯Would it hurt to start building political connections? Or maybe even dive in deeper?¡¯


    He shrugged.


    "Nah. Let¡¯s focus on Rover for now." Richard dismissed the thought¡ªfor now.


    Click!


    Another channel change.


    [...Korean industrial giant Daewoo announces plans to enter the British car market next year, offering budget-friendly models like the Matiz, Lanos, Nubira, and Leganza...]


    Now this was interesting¡ªa new rival entering the market, one that could pose a real threat to Rover¡¯s position. But Richard quickly brushed it aside. In his eyes, Daewoo was a fleeting presence in the automotive world. No real threat¡ªat least, not in the long run.


    [...The Daily Telegraph becomes the first national newspaper in Britain to launch an online edition, the Electronic Telegraph. Around 600,000 UK households now have internet access...]


    "Ah yes... the internet," Richard murmured.


    He made a mental note: United States.


    Amazon, Yahoo, AltaVista, Netscape, Lycos... so many companies would rise and fall. Richard believed that in just five years, the right investments in them could earn him billions. The dot-com boom was calling


    And he¡¯d also received an invitation from Vince McMahon to attend WrestleMania this year. Maybe it was time to go.


    The channel change.


    [...Huddersfield Town officially move into their new all-seater Alfred McAlpine Stadium, which opens with a capacity of 16,000, set to expand to 20,000...]


    "Finally¡ªfootball," Richard smiled, eyes back on the road, as the radio hummed on in the background.


    [... Tottenham Hotspur¡¯s 12-point penalty is reduced to 6 points on appeal at a Football Association hearing, while the ¡ê600,000 fine is increased to ¡ê1.5 million and the FA Cup ban remains in place...]


    [...19-year-old striker Robbie Fowler scores a hat-trick for Liverpool in less than five minutes as they beat Arsenal 3¨C0 in the league at Anfield...]


    Time passed, the sun dipped lower, and Richard finally arrived at the Rover Solihull Plant. The massive complex loomed ahead, its iconic fa?ade a symbol of British automotive legacy. As he approached the main gate, he slowed his Porsche, eyes scanning the scene.


    The parking lot was already packed¡ªdozens of vehicles lined up neatly, from executive saloons to workers¡¯ hatchbacks. Security personnel in hi-vis jackets directed traffic.


    Just beyond the entrance, a small crowd of reporters and camera crews had gathered, their equipment aimed toward the front of the main building. Flashes popped intermittently, capturing glimpses of arriving executives.


    It was no surprise. Rover was more than just a car company¡ªit was a national brand, one of the last true symbols of British automotive identity. And today, with the arrival of a new CEO, the media buzzed like bees in a hive.


    Richard pulled into his reserved spot near the executive entrance and stepped out of his car. He walked past the reporters, offering only a polite nod. The path he took was part of a private route, separated from the public entrance, allowing him to bypass the main crowd and slip quietly inside.


    [INT. ROVER SOLIHULL PLANT ¨C TOWN HALL ¨C 1994 ¨C DAY]


    Mulally steps up to a modest podium. No fancy stage, just a large Rover logo behind him and a room full of curious faces¡ªengineers, plant workers, managers, a few journalists. He adjusts the mic slightly and smiles.


    "Morning, everyone."


    Alan Mulally¡¯s voice rang clear through the hall. A sea of employees, engineers, and executives sat quietly, their eyes fixed on him.


    "First off¡ªthank you for being here." He offered a small smile. "I know it¡¯s been a tough stretch. Rough headlines. Tougher boardroom talks..."


    Laughter rippled across the room.


    "But through all of it, you¡¯ve kept this place running. You¡¯ve kept Rover moving. I didn¡¯t come all the way from the States to just sit in an office and juggle paperwork. I came here because I believe¡ªtruly believe¡ªthat Rover can be great again. Not just surviving. Thriving. So, let¡¯s talk about how."


    He gestured casually to a simple slide: "One Rover."


    "Right now, we¡¯ve got great pieces: Rover, MG, Land Rover, Mini. But let¡¯s be honest¡ªthey¡¯re not always working together. Sometimes, they compete more with each other than with the rest of the world. That¡¯s gotta change."


    He paused. The silence in the room grew dense with anticipation.


    "From today forward, we move as one company. One team. One direction."


    Another slide lit up: "Working Together."


    "Now listen¡ªthis won¡¯t be easy. But we¡¯re going to do it the right way. Together. Every week, we¡¯re going to sit down¡ªme, the execs, your team leaders¡ªand look at the business. What¡¯s working. What¡¯s not. If something¡¯s off¡ªif it¡¯s red¡ªthat¡¯s okay. We¡¯re not here to point fingers. We¡¯re here to fix it. I don¡¯t believe in secrets or silos. I believe in solving problems, side by side."


    He clicked again. Final slide: "The Future Is Ours to Build."


    "I know the road behind us hasn¡¯t been easy. But I¡¯ve seen what this company is made of. The pride. The craftsmanship. The history. And I know what we can do if we pull together."


    He looked across the room, his voice quieter now¡ªmore personal.


    "Let¡¯s build a Rover we¡¯re proud to pass on to the next generation. Thank you for your time. Let¡¯s get to work."


    He stepped away from the podium. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For a moment, silence.


    Then¡ªclap.


    Another.


    And then the entire room erupted into applause. A standing ovation followed. Cameras flashed. Journalists scribbled furiously.


    But in the back of the room, Richard stood quietly with his arms crossed. His face gave nothing away.


    He turned and walked toward the executive wing. There, behind closed doors, a one-on-one meeting with Mulally was waiting. And that, Richard knew, was where the real conversation would begin.


    Richard and Mr. Kiyoshi Kawashima¡ªthe two main shareholders of Rover Group¡ªsat across the table. Richard was the personal owner, and Mr. Kawashima represented Honda, which held a 20% stake in Rover. In front of them, Alan Mulally began to pitch his plan in more detail.


    "We¡¯ll trim down the model lineup. No more flooding the market with cars that don¡¯t sell. We¡¯ll focus on what people actually love to drive," Mulally said confidently.


    "And which model are you referring to, Mr. Mulally? As far as I know, our cars are still selling well in the market," Richard asked.


    Mulally shook his head. "Yes, they are selling¡ªbut we need to set a standard. Especially with Rover¡¯s current condition, our priority is financial stabilization. First, secure capital and reduce waste. Then we can save costs through shared R&D and procurement. More focused marketing and brand positioning will also help."


    Mr. Kawashima shook his head. "Rover¡¯s financial situation doesn¡¯t allow for any more wasted money on marketing, Mr. Mulally."


    "That¡¯s why we¡¯ll trim the current model range to only those with strong sales," Mulally replied, handing them a document. Richard¡¯s eyebrows raised as he scanned through it.


    Mark II, Rover 200, Rover 400, and Rover Metro¡ªmodels that had been in production since 1984¡ªwere all on the proposed cut list.


    "You want to cut these models? You do realize our best-selling cars come from this line, right?" Richard asked in surprise, pointing at the Rover Metro.


    Mulally nodded. "The Mark II, 200, and 400¡ªyes. We¡¯ll drop overlapping or outdated models. But for the Metro, we¡¯re not scrapping the car itself¡ªwe¡¯re scrapping the nameplate. We¡¯ll relaunch it as a new brand."


    He continued, "Mechanically, it stays similar¡ª1.1 and 1.4 petrol engines, Hydragas suspension¡ªbut now we¡¯ll offer a Peugeot-sourced 1.5 diesel instead of the old 1.4. The exterior will get an update to freshen its look, improve cooling for the diesel, and adopt a smaller version of Rover¡¯s family grille. We¡¯ll fit new bumpers, sill covers, boot handle, headlamps, bonnet, and grille."


    Richard nodded. He didn¡¯t fully grasp the technical stuff, but it sounded impressive. He made a mental note to study more later. For now, it was Mr. Kawashima¡¯s turn.


    Mr. Kawashima frowned as he flipped through the document Mulally had handed him. "This is indeed feasible," he said slowly, "but once again, if we want to create a new brand identity, that means new costs..."


    He was referring to everything needed for a proper relaunch: R&D and engineering, tooling and manufacturing setup, regulatory compliance, certification, the initial production run, inventory¡ªand of course, branding and marketing.


    Mulally said, his expression turning serious. "That¡¯s why we need to take a calculated risk. For short-term funding, I suggest we leverage Rover¡¯s brand value and UK real estate to secure long-term credit lines first."


    Richard and Mr. Kawashima exchanged glances.


    "What exactly do you want to do? Tell us the full plan," Richard said.


    "First, we push for lean manufacturing and implement a just-in-time inventory system. We cancel outdated, poor-selling models. Then, we double down on Mini and Land Rover as premium sub-brands¡ªMini as a modern, urban lifestyle car, and Land Rover as a luxury off-road brand. We¡¯ll also improve interior quality and durability, partnering with Honda to enhance our quality..."


    And so, for the next six hours, Richard stayed at the Solihull plant, discussing the rebirth of the UK¡¯s only flagship automaker once more.

 Chapter 100: Commercial Value of Football

    Chapter 100: Commercial Value of Football10 September 1994


    After their head-to-head match against Blackpool, Manchester City¡¯s performance could be described as both good and not-so-good. In their second match, City suffered a 3-0 defeat against a strong Fulham side at Craven Cottage.


    Determined to bounce back in their third match, City made a statement by sweeping Notts County aside at Maine Road, demolishing them 7-1.


    Ronaldo netted a hat-trick, while Solskjaer added a brace. The remaining goals came from Roberto Carlos with his signature howitzer shot and a header from Sol Campbell.


    Their next fixtures began with disappointment, as a frustrated Maine Road crowd watched City stumble to a 0-0 draw against Wrexham.


    Next came the League Cup, where O¡¯Neill rested Ronaldo, Cafu, and Roberto Carlos. The match was hard-fought, but thankfully, Shaun Goater¡¯s last-minute equalizer salvaged a point for the Blues in a 1-1 draw at Plymouth.


    He then scored two more goals as City got back on track with a 3-1 win at home against Walsall in the league.


    3 win, 1 lose, 1 draw.


    After watching the match, Richard hurried back to his office to manage Manchester City¡¯s critical financial situation.


    The club was still in the midst of a financial crisis, and the annual financial report revealed pre-tax losses of ¡ê6.3 million from the previous season, which had risen to ¡ê11.6 million currently. This left the club with weekly interest payments of ¡ê71,000 alone.


    The club originally had over ¡ê44 million in debts during the Swales and Lee era, and with his ¡ê30 million loan, at least ¡ê15 million of the short-term debts had already been paid off. The remaining ¡ê10 million was allocated for the club¡¯s operations.


    This means there is still approximately ¡ê29 million left to be settled. He needs to quickly secure additional cash to implement another loan scheme before the Club Licensing and Financial Fair Play Regulations are introduced in the early 2000s.


    Of course, this wouldn¡¯t be the real FFP, as Financial Fair Play was only approved in 2010. These regulations were designed to promote financial stability by ensuring clubs operate within their means, primarily by balancing spending with revenues and limiting the accumulation of debt.


    "Or maybe we take out a loan first and pay it off later. The only issue is, I¡¯m not sure how much we can borrow given Manchester City¡¯s current situation. Still, it¡¯s worth a shot. I¡¯ll need to talk to John," Richard pondered.


    Back in the league, City dropped another two points, drawing 2-2 at Northampton, and then lost more ground in the promotion race, drawing again¡ªthis time 1-1 at Millwall, where the City players and fans had to endure some ugly scenes caused by the Millwall fans.


    This was the first time Richard had witnessed just how barbaric English football fans could be.


    The stands were in complete chaos, and Richard, seated in the director¡¯s box, had to be evacuated when he turned to see City fans celebrating their goal. This triggered outrage among the extreme Millwall fan groups, resulting in a small-scale skirmish in the stands.


    "Ugh, it¡¯s probably Boggy¡¯s crew causing trouble again."


    After being escorted out by his bodyguards, Richard turned to John. "Boggy? Who¡¯s that?"


    "Oh, he¡¯s the leader of the Bushwackers, a sworn enemy of the ICF. Let¡¯s just say, whenever Millwall clashes with outsiders, there¡¯s an 80% chance the Bushwackers are involved."


    "How about the Guvnors and the Crew? Have they shown any signs so far?"


    "Not so far."


    Richard paused for a moment, carefully considering his next move before speaking. "Regarding the incident just now, request the FA for the CCTV footage if possible, and check if any members of the City firm were involved. The skirmish wasn¡¯t major this time, but if we let our guard down, the next one could escalate."


    "Understood," John replied.


    "What about the loan we discussed previously?"


    "We¡¯ve successfully secured a loan of ¡ê21 million."


    "Can we allocate part of that for the Kippax stand? How much would it cost to rebuild it, ideally as quickly as possible?"


    "Hmm, I believe around ¡ê3 to ¡ê4 million would be sufficient, assuming we handle everything efficiently."


    "Does that include the seats?"


    "Yes," John replied. "The shelved stadium plan should indeed be expedited. After all, having a better and larger stadium greatly impacts the club¡¯s income."


    "Then let¡¯s prioritize the Kippax stand. Allocate the funds for that. It¡¯s critical."


    Richard¡¯s voice was decisive, aware of the urgency in making quick, impactful decisions both on and off the field.


    They continued their discussion as they walked to Richard¡¯s office. Once inside, Richard took a seat and exhaled deeply before turning to John, who stood before him.


    "John, there¡¯s something I need to ask. If it offends you, I hope you¡¯ll forgive me. Do you truly understand commercial football?"


    John looked perplexed, furrowing his brow as he cautiously replied, "You mean like how Manchester United operates the club like a public corporation, right?"


    While football was always a central concern for the club¡¯s success, the business side (i.e., revenue generation, shareholder value, commercial deals, and profitability) was gaining significant importance, especially since the formation of the Premier League.


    This was particularly true for Manchester United. The club was indeed managed with a strong focus on business considerations, especially after 1991, when it was publicly listed on the London Stock Exchange.


    Richard shook his head lightly and responded, "You¡¯ve been with the club for five years, so you should have a solid understanding of football. But let me ask you, which club in England has been the most successful?"


    "Manchester United."


    "In the last thirty years?"


    "Still, Manchester United...?"


    Richard nodded. "How is it possible that, even after Liverpool won the European Cup following Real Madrid¡¯s victory and Manchester United was relegated, United was still regarded as the most successful club in England? Aren¡¯t you curious about that?"


    John furrowed his brow, seemingly unable to answer. He then shook his head. In the first place, his specialty was negotiation¡ªmaking the right offer and securing the best deal possible.


    "It¡¯s a baffling reality, right? despite Liverpool winning the European Cup four times, Manchester United remained the favored club in England in many eyes, with their standing unshaken even after relegation."


    It appeared that Manchester United possessed something intangible¡ªan aura, a conviction that their players and coaches were the best, and thus deserving of the top spot. This bold and unapologetic stance distinguished them on the European and global football stage.


    Seeing John lost in thought, Richard spoke softly, "It¡¯s simple. Brand Identity."


    The end of the Cold War in the late 1980s and early 1990s reduced world political tensions, and the meteoric rise of the internet and global communications caused an unprecedented acceleration in commercial activities outside domestic markets.


    In the realm of sports, globalization has fueled international rivalries that trace their origins back to the 1896 Olympic Games. Since then, many sports have thrived as their global media exposure has grown, particularly through quadrennial appearances in the Olympics.


    Sports like tennis and golf have been global for decades, as have British-origin sports such as cricket, rugby, squash, and badminton. American sports like basketball, American football, and baseball have also established strong presences in foreign markets, with global media expanding their reach beyond domestic audiences. However, no sport has benefitted from global exposure as much as soccer (football).


    Since its first appearance in the 1908 Olympics, football has attracted increasing international attention. The first World Cup was organized in 1930 by Jules Rimet in Uruguay. Since S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    then, it has consistently drawn more support worldwide than any other pastime.


    As globalization trends accelerated after the 1980s, increasing numbers of professional football clubs sought to capitalize on the sport¡¯s global appeal, but only two clubs, Manchester United and Real Madrid, emerged as global brands.


    Although Real Madrid has a very high global awareness and recently overtook Manchester United as the club with the highest turnover, many observers consider that Manchester United¡¯s innovative branding and marketing strategies were at the leading edge of the contemporary trend in sport globalization.


    "Manchester United is one of the leading clubs in world football, with a global brand and following that embodies the passion and excitement of the world¡¯s most popular sport," Richard stated.


    John frowned, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean?"


    Richard shook his head, opened his drawer, picked up a document, and threw it onto the table in front of John, signaling him to take a look.


    When John saw the documents, he frowned and couldn¡¯t help but look at Richard seriously.


    He was honestly offended.


    Did he think that City had never conducted marketing campaigns?


    Then what was the point of him being the general manager of Manchester City?


    Did he underestimate his

 Chapter 101: Small Steps, City in the Next Five Years

    Chapter 101: Small Steps, City in the Next Five YearsIn fact, during the Swales and Lee era, they invested heavily in various aspects, such as signing star players, stadium investments, commercial partnerships, and more.


    The document about Champs Cola, or Manchester United¡¯s partnership with Coca-Cola in 1993. Coca-Cola, a global leader in the beverage industry, became Manchester United¡¯s official soft drink sponsor, further expanding the club¡¯s brand presence.


    The next page is about how Manchester United expanded their brand by adding branded wines, lagers, and champagne to their portfolio. Additionally, financial products like insurance, loans, and credit cards were introduced under the MU Finance brand.


    Richard then explained, "It¡¯s about the commercial relationship between Manchester United and its fans. They track fan needs through research and strengthen ties by providing opportunities to purchase club-branded products and services. So, they don¡¯t just randomly search for and accept sponsors."


    John nodded, finally grasping Richard¡¯s point. "So, are you asking me to look for global brands to partner with City next season?" he asked, then paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "But even if we promote, we¡¯ll still be in the First Division, not the Premier League. Will we be attractive enough to global brands?"


    Richard sighed again. "No, I¡¯m not asking you to seek out brands. What I mean is that you need to view Manchester City as a brand, an identity, almost like a person. Do you get it? My short-term vision for City is to invest significant time and resources into growing and developing its fanbase, both in the UK and internationally."


    He then continued, "This is why I asked O¡¯Neill to play attacking football in the first place. The excitement, the tradition of playing stylish, attacking football¡ªit¡¯s what will draw fans worldwide. Now, we may be playing in a lower league, but that¡¯s fine. In fact, it makes it easier to build this foundation."


    John nodded in agreement. Attacking football really is more enjoyable to watch than defensive play. He then asked, "do you think if we succeed in building this foundation, we could challenge Manchester United in the next five or six years?"


    "Impossible!" Richard quickly rejected such thoughts. "There¡¯s one thing we¡¯re lacking compared to Manchester United when it comes to foundations. Do you know what it is?"


    John shook his head.


    "History," Richard simply replied.


    This is what it means to treat a brand like a person. Just like people, brands develop distinct attributes that set them apart from their competitors. These qualities can include traits like youthfulness.


    Matt Busby laid the foundation for Manchester United¡¯s youth development in 1953, and the legacy continued with the "Fergie Fledglings." Players like Ryan Giggs, Gary Neville, Phil Neville, Paul Scholes, Nicky Butt, and David Beckham all rose through the youth system to become key figures in the club¡¯s phenomenal success recently.


    ¡¯Not to mention in the future...¡¯ Richard thought.


    Seven of the 2004-05 first-team squad were products of the club¡¯s highly successful youth academy, and the youth orientation was maintained with the signings of Cristiano Ronaldo and Wayne Rooney. The club had also augmented its youth talent pipeline through alliances with other European clubs¡ªBromma, Shelbourne, Nantes, Royal Antwerp, and Sporting Lisbon. He could already imagine it.


    "We¡¯re late... or we don¡¯t have a chance at all," Richard smiled wryly.


    "Late?" John asked, confused by the statement.


    Richard didn¡¯t explain, only looked toward the sky through the window and sighed.


    That was the genius of Edwards family and their management during that time.


    Why has Manchester United, rather than Liverpool, Real Madrid, or Bayern Munich, become the best-known football club in the world?


    All clubs both in the EPL and worldwide, have faced the same industry pressures. Moreover, Manchester United has only won Europe¡¯s most prestigious trophy, the European Cup twice compared to Liverpool¡¯s five times and Real Madrid¡¯s numerous victories.


    So why?


    The answer lies in the timing of its successes in both the 1960s and the 1990s, which proved to be critical.


    These successes occurred during eras marked by significant developments in the media industry. In 1968, television had only recently become widely accessible. By the 1990s, global communications and media were booming as part of the globalization push.


    Manchester United capitalized on an English football heritage that included tragedy, such as the Munich disaster and a football culture that emphasized youth, talent development, and an attacking style of play.


    The club also had a number of charismatic, talented players like the famous Busby Babes, who attracted fans not only with their on-field performances but also with their off-the-field activities.


    It was ironic that the Munich disaster, the tragedy in which eight players tragically lost their lives, triggered the beginning of the club¡¯s deep emotional connection with its fans. It sparked the emotional ties that would form the foundation of Manchester United¡¯s brand.


    ¡¯Before Munich, it was Manchester¡¯s club; afterwards, everyone felt they owned a little bit of it.¡¯


    After that, figures like George Best, Bobby Charlton, and Denis Law became icons, and Manchester United generated both on- and off-field media coverage that helped maintain the club¡¯s high-profile image. Right now, it was the charismatic Eric Cantona took center stage, continuing to fuel media coverage and maintaining the club¡¯s headline-making presence.


    Richard stood up and walked over to the window, standing in silence for a moment. Once John stood beside him, he spoke.


    "We can¡¯t be Manchester United, John. We simply can¡¯t," he paused, letting the words settle. "But that doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t learn from them, build our own legacy. For the next five years, my vision for Manchester City is simple."


    He paused for a moment before continuing, "First, I want to build my own Busby Babes to generate excitement, just like United did in their early days to lay the foundation. It will be a long and arduous process, especially since we don¡¯t have the same history or heritage. And, God willing, I hope we never have to experience anything like the Munich disaster."


    "I want every individual who plays for City to become part of our brand, to spark our corporate brand lines. Each player must generate excitement on the field. That¡¯s why I¡¯m counting on players like Cafu, Roberto Carlos, Ronaldo, Solskjaer, Heskey, Campbell, and others. I want their personalities to add excitement to the club¡¯s image."


    John nodded, not interrupting Richard, allowing him to speak freely.


    "Second, this is the most important," Richard became serious. "Talent." He let the words sink in. "I want Manchester City to be a potential combination of homegrown and imported talent¡ªnot only from Europe and South America, but also from Africa, and if possible, Asia."


    "Asia?" John¡¯s eyes widened. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard clicked his tongue. Did he underestimate Asia?


    Football has been present in Asia for a long time, and English teams have periodically visited the region since the 1980s. Not to mention the 2000s, when players like Park Ji-sung, Hidetoshi Nakata, and Shunsuke Nakamura made their mark. And let¡¯s not forget Asia¡¯s massive population¡ªit¡¯s a goldmine.


    "Once we reach the Premier League, let¡¯s do a preseason in Asia," Richard said, then took a deep breath as he looked toward the sky.


    Park Ji-sung or Nakata¡ªthese are probably the best Asian talents he would recruit for Manchester City, assuming there¡¯s still a slot available.


    In fact, in the future, he knows Manchester City, if they follow the current trajectory, would recruit Sun Jihai from China. But based on the results also he knows from the future, the outcome wasn¡¯t too promising. Whether it was because City was mediocre or China wasn¡¯t as enthusiastic about football, he wasn¡¯t sure.


    That¡¯s why his choice would be Park Ji-sung or Nakata. They are the best option to make a breakthrough in the Asian football market.


    John¡¯s mouth twitched. Given City¡¯s current financial condition and performance on the pitch, it would probably take four or five years for the club to reach the Premier League. And that¡¯s only if they had the money to do a preseason in Asia.


    Still, he didn¡¯t expose Richard¡¯s thoughts, only sipping his coffee before he heard Richard speak again.


    "John, do you know what my vision for Manchester City is over the next five years? Off the pitch, we will become a club renowned for producing the best talent, not just in Europe, but around the world, making tons of money. And then..."


    "On the pitch, my goal is for Manchester City to average over two goals per game, outscoring giants like AC Milan, Juventus, Real Madrid, Barcelona¡ª"


    "Pfftt!" This time, John couldn¡¯t handle it. He nearly choked on his coffee, staring at Richard as if he¡¯d just declared plans to launch the team into space.


    "..."


    "BLOODY JOHN!" Richard feigned an enraged expression, making John throw his hands up in exasperation.


    He couldn¡¯t help it¡ªwhat he had just said was a curveball.


    Richard waved his hands dismissively. "Fine, then! Give me my ticket! What time do we leave for the United States?"


    Indeed, the plan to make money from the United States was about to begin¡ªthis was just the start of something big.


    But first...


    CLAP


    Richard slapped his forehead, glancing at his watch.


    "Harry¡¯s graduation!" he exclaimed.


    P.S. Harry is Richard¡¯s brother, Harry Maddox.

 Chapter 102: Harry’s Graduation & the Music Goldmine

    Chapter 102: Harry¡¯s Graduation & the Music Goldmine21 September 1994


    In the same month as Harry, Richard¡¯s brother graduated, major news also came from the world of football¡ªespecially English football.


    Gary Lineker, England¡¯s second-highest goalscorer of all time (just one goal short of Bobby Charlton¡¯s record), announced his retirement from playing. Since leaving Tottenham in 1992, he had been playing for Nagoya Grampus Eight in Japan.


    Two days later, UEFA announced that the Summer Cup would be reintroduced next year under a new name: the Intertoto Cup.


    The competition would feature 40 clubs, and at least one Premier League team (the highest-placed applicant who failed to qualify for one of the three major European competitions) would be eligible to participate.


    From the European competitions, Blackburn Rovers, competing in Europe for the first time, were eliminated from the UEFA Cup 3¨C2 on aggregate by Swedish side Trelleborg and Newcastle advanced with an emphatic 10¨C2 aggregate victory over Antwerp, including a 5¨C2 win at home, where Andy Cole scored a hat-trick.


    Richard personally called Andy Cole to congratulate him on the achievement.


    Next, Manchester United began their quest for the European Cup with a 4¨C2 home win over Swedish champions IFK Gothenburg in the first game of the group stage. Ryan Giggs scored twice.


    Outside of football, the Rover Group finally made several announcements in quick succession.


    As had been discussed in previous meetings, the production of the Mark II, Rover 200, and Rover 400 would be discontinued.


    Facing a complete collapse in sales, Alan Mulally, the new CEO acted efficiently by scrapping the Metro nameplate and replacing it with a new model name: the Rover 100.


    With almost all products no longer in production except for the new Rover 100, this means Rover¡¯s current production line depends almost entirely on that single model. You know, when a company puts all its eggs in one basket¡ªespecially in a highly competitive market like the automotive industry¡ªit exposes itself to major risk.


    If consumers don¡¯t respond well to the Rover 100, there¡¯s no backup product to generate revenue. Additionally, automotive factories are expensive to operate. Running them for just one model may not justify the costs. Without economies of scale, profitability becomes much harder to achieve.


    Without any other options, Richard approved the development of a variant of the Rover 100 Cabriol¨¨t version.


    "What about Mini, MG, Jaguar, and Triumph?" Richard asked Mulally over the phone.


    Currently, Rover Group owned several iconic brands: Land Rover, Rover, MG, Triumph, and Mini. However, due to the company¡¯s dire financial condition, only Land Rover and Rover were actively being prioritized.


    MG, Triumph, and Mini were barely scraping by, with production either halted or significantly reduced.


    "Until we can break even with the Rover 100, the current situation can¡¯t be turned around," Mulally said firmly. "If the Rover 100 also fails, we¡¯ll have no choice but to consider selling off some of the names under the Rover Group."


    In the end, if the Rover 100 couldn¡¯t succeed, MG, Triumph, and Mini would likely be put up for sale¡ªa last resort to keep the company afloat.


    "Understood," Richard said before ending the call.


    "Something wrong? Is there a problem at the company?" Bryan, his father, asked, glancing at Richard as they prepared to attend Harry¡¯s graduation ceremony.


    It was Richard¡¯s first time returning to London for a family reunion after tirelessly dedicating himself to City, Maddox Capital, and the recently acquired Rover Group.


    A year probably¡ªand in that time, so much had changed, especially the transformation of Wilmington Square, which he had purchased for ¡ê50 million.


    Thanks to its location near Regent¡¯s Park¡ªhome to the world¡¯s oldest scientific zoo, and the oldest open-air theatre in the world¡ªthe Wilmington area, along with the surrounding 100km radius, was included in the UK government¡¯s latest urban planning initiative.


    The roads were repaired, sidewalks were widened, and safer pedestrian crossings were introduced. Parks were revitalized with lush new trees, walking paths, benches, and soft lighting. Wilmington Square Garden, in particular, was truly fortunate¡ªit had blossomed into a charming, tranquil oasis in the heart of the city of London.


    "Nothing serious, Dad¡ªjust the usual problems," Richard said as he composed himself then, turning to his mother and giving her a warm hug, he asked, "So, how¡¯s life been here, Mom?"


    Anna smiled as she returned the hug. "Oh, it¡¯s been peaceful," she said, brushing a bit of lint off Richard¡¯s shoulder. "The neighborhood¡¯s much quieter than it used to be back in Mayfair. Here, there aren¡¯t so many cars or blaring horns. It¡¯s... calmer."


    She glanced around fondly at the tree-lined streets and freshly manicured gardens of Wilmington Square. "Sometimes I just sit out in the garden with a cup of tea and a book. You can actually hear the birds in the morning¡ªnot like the old apartment: luxurious, but lacking peace, with engines and shouting from dawn to dusk."


    Bryan added with a chuckle, "And your mother¡¯s become the local expert on which neighbor walks their dog at what hour."


    "Haha, that¡¯s good then," Richard nodded in agreement.


    If his father and mother had said they didn¡¯t like living here, Richard wouldn¡¯t have minded selling the place after settling the collateral with Barclays. After all, the area had already been fully developed¡ªits value had likely appreciated significantly.


    But it seemed that wouldn¡¯t be necessary. The three apartments were now worth every penny.


    After they finished getting ready, the three of them made their way down to the garage. But as Richard caught sight of the vehicle parked inside, he stopped in his tracks¡ªcompletely stunned.


    A brand-new Rover Metro.


    "Dad... you bought a new car?" he asked, almost at a loss for words.


    His father chuckled, a little sheepishly. "Well, your mother and I thought it was the least we could do. A way to support your work."


    Only then did he understand.


    Simply put, it was their way of supporting their son¡¯s business venture¡ªthey had bought a Rover Metro, unaware that it would soon be discontinued.


    Richard didn¡¯t know whether to laugh or cry. And after he explained the situation, it was now their turn to be speechless.


    "Don¡¯t worry," Anna said with a wave of her hand. "We¡¯ll get the new Metro 100 later¡ªand maybe that new version you mentioned¡ªas a graduation gift for Harry."


    Richard couldn¡¯t help but glance at his mother, puzzled.


    She had changed too.


    In the past, she had been extremely frugal¡ªadamantly opposed to spending money. He still remembered how she had harshly scolded him and confiscated his funds when he first tried to invest in a property in Islington.


    "Oh, don¡¯t think we¡¯ve forgotten," his mother said, raising an eyebrow. " We thought you¡¯d gone completely mad at that time."


    "And now look at you," his father then added with a proud smile. "Football clubs, car companies, and now off to Harry¡¯s graduation. The Maddox boys aren¡¯t doing too bad for themselves."


    Their son had become a success story¡ªso successful, in fact, that he had nearly single-handedly rescued the nation¡¯s last major car company, turning it around with close to a billion pounds in backing. How could they not be proud?


    Seeing how happy his parents were, Richard smiled wryly. ¡¯Ah, forget it.¡¯


    Dressed sharply in suits, Maddox family climbed into their brand-new Rover Metro and set off from London toward Oxford.


    The journey began with familiar London traffic¡ªstop-and-go, honking horns, the occasional cyclist weaving between cars. But once they cleared the city limits and merged onto the A40, the ride began to smooth out.


    "Not bad for a car that¡¯s about to be discontinued, huh?" his father mused, tapping the dashboard with a half-smile. He then glanced at the rearview mirror. "Your mother made me polish it twice this morning."


    Richard chuckled. "Hahaha, Mom, you¡¯re killing Dad."


    Anna smirked. "Well, after all, we¡¯re showing up in Oxford. Can¡¯t look like country folk, can we?" She reached up and tilted the rearview mirror toward herself. "By the way, Richard, sweetheart, is my makeup okay?"


    Richard gave a thumbs up. "Yes, Mom. You¡¯re the most beautiful."


    Anna beamed, dabbing lightly at her lips with a tissue. "You always know how to flatter your old mother."


    Bryan chuckled from the driver¡¯s seat. "He¡¯s just saying that so you won¡¯t make him polish the next car twice."


    "Oh, hush," Anna replied with a laugh. "Besides, it¡¯s Harry¡¯s big day. Oh, by the way, Richard¡ªhow old are you now?"


    Richard was taken aback by the sudden question, a slight sense of dread creeping in."Twenty-seven, Mom. Why? Are you planning another surprise party?" Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Bryan raised an eyebrow. "Twenty-seven, huh? That¡¯s a fine age... you know, for settling down¡ª"


    Anna jumped in eagerly. "Exactly! I mean, look at you¡ªsuccessful, charming, good-looking¡ªjust like your father. When are you going to find someone nice and give us a grandchild or two?"


    "..."


    ¡¯Ah, so that¡¯s why they asked my age...¡¯ Richard groaned internally before letting out a long sigh.


    "We¡¯re just saying," Anna continued, feigning innocence with a playful tilt of her head. "We¡¯re not getting any younger, and I think it would be lovely to have a little one running around at Christmas."


    "Yeah, son, your mom is right," Bryan added. "Who was your last girlfriend anyway? Why didn¡¯t you ever bring her to meet us?"


    Ah, they mean Ashley... Richard shook his head, leaning an elbow against the window as he watched the countryside roll past. (P.S. Richard¡¯s ex, mentioned when he arrived at Maine Road, Chapter 10)


    ¡¯Dating hasn¡¯t exactly been my top priority now,¡¯ he thought.


    Between the club, the business, and everything else... he just hasn¡¯t had the time. Manchester City, Rover, even Maddox Capital¡ªeverything¡¯s in a critical phase right now.


    But thinking about the woman who had been by his side during his early days at Manchester City, Richard exhaled slowly, lost in thought. ¡¯I wonder how Ashley¡¯s doing right now...¡¯


    When Richard didn¡¯t respond for a while, Bryan and Anna exchanged a quick glance in the front seats. It seemed... there was something going on they didn¡¯t know about.


    About an hour and a half later, as they entered the historic town of Oxford, the skyline of spires and old stone buildings rose before them. The car slowed as they neared the university grounds.


    Soon, time passed until the ceremony began.


    "All rise for the academic procession," the voice over the speaker echoed, and the crowd stood as the faculty entered in their bright, velvet-trimmed robes, the music of "Pomp and Circumstance" filling the hall.


    Anna dabbed the corner of her eye with a tissue. "I still remember when he used to run around the street pretending to be a policeman," she whispered to Richard.


    Bryan hurriedly said. "Now he¡¯s walking the stage as one."


    Harry rose to his feet, crossed the stage with steady steps, shook the chancellor¡¯s hand, and accepted his degree¡ªhis eyes flickering with a mix of nerves and quiet pride.


    From his seat in the audience, Richard leaned back slightly, a warm, proud smile tugging at his lips.


    Nearly five years of effort had finally paid off. Of course, there¡¯d still be a bit of training before Harry could fully step into Maddox Media & Entertainment¡ªbut this, today, was a great start.


    After the formalities were done, gowns flapped in the summer breeze, and camera shutters clicked from every direction.


    Richard and his parents waited near the stone steps as Harry emerged, still adjusting his cap, grinning from ear to ear.


    "There he is!" Anna called, waving both hands like a proud mother at a school play.


    Harry jogged over and pulled them all into a big hug. "God, that felt like forever."


    Bryan clapped a hand on his back. "You did it, son. Took your time, but you did it."


    Harry laughed. "Four years¡ªand an extra one for good measure."


    "You¡¯re officially a Maddox now," Richard said with a grin. "All that¡¯s left is surviving the family business."


    "Don¡¯t worry," Harry smirked. "I¡¯ve been watching you long enough to know how not to do things."


    They all laughed¡ªthe kind of laughter only a close family could share, filled with love, relief, and a hint of the chaos that brought them there.


    "So, are we done here?" Richard asked, glancing around as he noticed the crowd beginning to thin.


    Harry shook his head. "Not quite. There¡¯s still the after-event¡ªsome live music, a little food, you know the usual uni send-off vibe." He nudged Richard playfully. "Let¡¯s stay a bit longer. I want to introduce you to some of my friends."


    Richard looked toward his parents before giving a small shrug. He didn¡¯t mind it. "Lead the way, graduate."


    The late afternoon sun bathed the stone buildings in gold, while the soft murmur of laughter and conversation lingered in the air. Families clustered in small groups, snapping photos, trading hugs, and basking in the moment.


    Anna had found herself among a group of fellow proud mothers, animatedly chatting and laughing. Bryan, meanwhile, had struck up a lively discussion with one of the professors about classic British cars. As expected, he couldn¡¯t resist slipping Richard¡¯s name into the conversation.


    The Maddox name still carried weight at Oxford¡ªespecially given Richard¡¯s ongoing support as a donor. Naturally, the professors were all smiles and polite interest.


    With everyone occupied, Richard slipped away to a quiet table where Harry was waiting.


    Harry nudged him with his elbow. "You sure you¡¯re not too busy for a bit of music and mingling?"


    Richard¡¯s gaze drifted toward the student band setting up on the lawn¡ªguitars being tuned, mics adjusted, amps humming faintly. "Not at all," he said. "This is all pretty new to me. I never got to attend university, remember?"


    Harry was silent for a moment, then turned to him. "Did you ever want to?"


    Richard chuckled at his brother¡¯s suddenly serious tone. "Nah. I couldn¡¯t afford to sit in lectures when deals were waiting," he said, glancing toward the band. "You said your friend¡¯s in the band?"


    Harry nodded. "Yeah, the singer¡¯s a friend of mine."


    Soon, the band took the stage.


    "Hello, everyone," the singer said. "We¡¯re On a Friday. Today, we¡¯ll be playing three songs¡ªhope you enjoy them."


    The first song wrapped up to a modest round of applause.


    The second song followed.


    And finally, the third.


    The lead singer stepped forward with a small smile and adjusted the mic stand. "Thanks for sticking around, everyone. This¡¯ll be our last song for today."


    Still, no one seemed to care¡ªnot even Richard. That was, until a familiar melody began to drift into his ears.


    A familiar tune began to play: ?????????????


    ????: When you were here before...


    ????: Couldn¡¯t look you in the eye...


    Richard frowned at this.


    ????: I wish I was special, you¡¯re so fuckin¡¯ special...


    ?????????????


    ????: But I¡¯m a creep...


    Only then did he realize why the song sounded familiar.


    He quickly grabbed Harry¡¯s hand. "You said that singer is your friend?"


    Finally, he found a breakthrough to enter the music industry!

 Chapter 103: Here I come, America!

    Chapter 103: Here I come, America!Harry Potter, a world-renowned fantasy franchise, and "Creep," an iconic alt-rock anthem.


    With these two names under the banner of Maddox Media & Entertainment, Richard believes that in less than five years, he¡¯ll turn the company into a cultural powerhouse. He¡¯s determined to set the stage to redefine modern storytelling and pop culture.


    ¡¯It would be best if I could use Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, and Rupert Grint¡¯s popularity to boost City later. Also, I could use future Radiohead to pump up the fans during pre-game rituals, singing the chant with the fans later...¡¯ S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Just imagining it made him excited. He wanted to replicate the Super Bowl halftime show, focusing on music and entertainment to captivate the crowd.


    "Is it feasible?" Richard wondered aloud. But as the idea lingered in his mind, he quickly calmed himself.


    ¡¯Yeah, it just wasn¡¯t possible.¡¯ He reminded himself.


    There¡¯s a reason why, even in modern football, powerhouse clubs like Real Madrid, top teams from the English, Italian, and even German leagues, never feature musical performances, celebrity stunts, or entertainment segments like the "Kiss Cam" or anything of the sort. Heck, even Barcelona, despite being on the brink of bankruptcy, never considered such things.


    First, halftime is only 15 minutes¡ªjust enough time for fans to grab a cup of tea and a pork pie. Can you get a halftime show on the pitch and off the pitch in 15 minutes? Definitely not.


    Second, where was he taking Manchester City?


    He didn¡¯t want to be the first to kill this football culture, definitely.


    Football is not a social event in the first place. It should be called "The Halftime Show," with a football game played between performances. Most fans go to the stadium to watch the game, not to attend a Broadway show.


    Richard definitely didn¡¯t want to turn his Manchester City into something overhyped through marketing or make it seem like a big deal by bringing in big-name music stars for a ridiculous halftime show.


    For example, after the Super Bowl, people talk about the halftime show and the commercials. If you ask them about the final score, you¡¯ll get a blank stare.


    Perhaps that¡¯s why it¡¯s called the beautiful game. It transcends any single culture. The match itself is what¡¯s important: 45 uninterrupted minutes, a short break with commentary, and another 45+ minutes (with stoppages).


    Sure, local aspects of culture influence the game¡ªlike the chants heard at top-tier matches. But across the world, it¡¯s all about the game of football. Anything that breaks the focus on the game during the 90+ minutes is inappropriate.


    ¡¯That¡¯s okay though,¡¯ Richard muttered to himself as he dismissed the idea from his mind. ¡¯Still, the media and entertainment industry was something that I needed to break into, and books and music were the keys to doing so.¡¯


    A publishing house and a record label were just two more bullets he wanted in his portofolio¡ªjust in case something went sideways with the dot-com bubble.


    After all, it never hurts to have plenty of backups. He wanted to sit on the rights to Harry Potter and Creep, not just for the bragging rights, but to turn them into his personal cash cow.


    But before that, he needed cash¡ªfast.


    Books don¡¯t publish themselves, and music doesn¡¯t license itself. Studios, editors, distribution deals¡ªall of it costs money.


    Thankfully, an invitation from Vince McMahon arrived just in time¡ªmeaning the cash would start flowing again, thanks to his stake in the event¡¯s lucrative pay-per-view revenue.


    SWOOSH¡ªlike a streak of lightning, a blue-midnight Porsche tore through the London streets, weaving past traffic before pulling into Heathrow Airport with practiced precision.


    "Are you sure you don¡¯t need me to come with you to America?" asked Fay, the driver now, who now served as the COO of Maddox Capital, overseeing every inch of Richard¡¯s investment empire.


    He and the newly appointed Managing Director, Stuart Olm, had recently relocated to the Britannia Inter-Continental London, which currently served as the temporary headquarters for his growing company.


    Since it was a hotel in the first place, Richard didn¡¯t mind letting them stay there. After all, neither of them was married yet, so yeah¡ªthey were just fine living the good life.


    "Don¡¯t you have more important things to handle here with Stuart?" Richard said, rolling his eyes.


    Other than overseeing all of Richard¡¯s investments, he had also instructed them to directly handle every property under Maddox Capital¡ªmost notably, the upcoming renovation of the future St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel London.


    Since the building¡¯s architecture was deeply Gothic and already historic, the renovation would be incredibly costly and required careful, hands-on supervision. After all, the hotel was a nationally protected landmark, and any modifications had to be executed with the utmost precision and care.


    Fay shut his mouth, unable to counter Richard¡¯s statement, which made Richard smirk. He then leaned back against the car seat and suddenly remembered McMahon¡¯s invitation.


    "Hey, Fay, how much could I get this time from WrestleMania?" he asked.


    "Probably about three million," Fay replied coolly, rattling off the numbers like a man reading tomorrow¡¯s paper.


    Richard raised an eyebrow. "Probably?"


    "It¡¯s pyrotechnic overcompensation," Fay muttered under his breath while grabbing the parking ticket. "But if everything goes according to projections, then yes¡ªthree million from this event alone."


    "How much did the previous events bring in?" Richard asked.


    He was referring to the other Big Four: King of the Ring, Royal Rumble, SummerSlam, and Survivor Series.


    Fay didn¡¯t miss a beat. "Those three events brought in about four million combined this year."


    Richard was genuinely surprised. "So WrestleMania alone is pulling in almost the same as the other three combined?"


    To put things into perspective: the four million pounds Fay had mentioned earlier was the total revenue from King of the Ring, Royal Rumble, SummerSlam, and Survivor Series combined. Now, WrestleMania¡ªthe crown jewel of wrestling events¡ªwas projected to bring in nearly 75% of that total by itself.


    Fay nodded as he tapped the gas when the light turned green. "Absolutely, the hype¡¯s bigger this year. If we go by last year¡¯s numbers, this year should easily surpass them. The arena¡¯s expecting a live crowd of around 18,000, and pay-per-view sales are projected to hit 400,000."


    "Six million, huh? Not bad."


    At the moment, he has only ¡ê2.9 million in liquid assets¡ªwhat remains from a billion-pound loan secured from Barclays and Lloyds, combined with the winnings he recently claimed from the 1994 World Cup.


    ¡¯Adding in six would be enough,¡¯ Richard thought to himself.


    After arriving at Heathrow Airport in London, Richard made his way out of the terminal.


    Fay, still by his side, finally bid farewell as he headed to the private jet he had chartered for the trip.


    The soft hum of the engines filled the cabin as the flight attendants went through their routine, making sure everything was in order. Richard, however, barely noticed. He leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes for a moment, and let the soothing sounds of the radio wash over him.


    [... A late equaliser from Lee Sharpe preserves Manchester United¡¯s 38-year unbeaten run in European competitions as they hold FC Barcelona to a 2¨C2 draw in their third Champions League group fixture at Old Trafford..]


    [... The Times reports that 16 Football League clubs are set to break away from the league to form a second tier of the Premier League...]


    [...Manchester United bounce back from their disappointment last weekend to beat West Ham 1¨C0 at Old Trafford with a goal from Eric Cantona...]


    [...Malaysian football is involved in one of the largest match-fixing scandals in the sport¡¯s history...]


    [...Title contenders Blackburn Rovers and Manchester United clash in the league at Ewood Park, with Alex Ferguson¡¯s side finishing 4¨C2 winners....]


    [..Manchester United lose 4¨C0 to Barcelona at the Nou Camp in their fourth Champions League group game...]


    [... V¨¦lez S¨¢rsfield wins the Intercontinental Cup in Tokyo, Japan by defeating Italy¡¯s AC Milan (2¨C0)...]


    [...Manchester United bow out of the Champions League despite beating Galatasaray 4¨C0 at Old Trafford in their final group game. Young midfielders Simon Davies and David Beckham score their first goals for the club...]


    Among all the news, almost every headline seemed to revolve around Manchester United.


    Even though the English club had been knocked out of European competition this year, the media¡¯s obsession with them showed no signs of stopping about them.


    Richard smirked wryly.


    Being a famous team had its perks, but the downside was the constant media attention. It wasn¡¯t just the reporters who were relentless¡ªother clubs also began using Manchester United¡¯s name to inflate the price of players they wanted to sell.


    Richard rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Manchester United..."


    They were undeniably rich¡ªso rich that from the 2013 season onwards, all they seemed to have was money, but no trophies. Still, the never-ending stream of cash kept flowing.


    "If I can play the game right, there¡¯s a lot to gain," Richard thought.


    The only real hurdle, however, was the Manchester Derby.


    Any transaction between Manchester City and Manchester United would be under intense scrutiny¡ªnot just from the media, but from the fans.


    Selling a player to their biggest rival?


    That was the kind of move that could spark outrage and backlash. To avoid any future fallout, Richard needed a long-term strategy. One that would ensure that, if City ever sold a player to United, the fans wouldn¡¯t see it as a betrayal¡ªbut rather, as a calculated business decision.


    Subtle, smart, and under the radar.


    For example, the legendary Billy Meredith, who played for Manchester City from 1894 to 1906, helped them win their first major trophy¡ªthe FA Cup in 1904. Then there¡¯s Brian Kidd, who is quite unique in that he played for both Manchester United and Manchester City, later working as a coach for both clubs as well.


    Such transfers were rare, but they did happen¡ªthough perhaps not under the same circumstances today.


    Still, he saw opportunity.


    Maybe he could offload players on the verge of flopping¡ªor better yet, identify a hidden gem from United¡¯s academy, nurture them into a star at City, then sell them back for a hefty profit.


    ¡¯Like Paul Pogba?¡¯ Richard mused with a smirk.


    But for a move like that to succeed, he¡¯d need support¡ªmost likely from the fans themselves.The real question was: how to get them on his side?


    "Sir..."


    Flipping players for a massive profit was a game too tempting to ignore. Richard mulled it over, lost in thought.


    "Sir...?"


    ¡¯Also, definitely not under Sir Alex,¡¯ he muttered, a chill running down his spine at the thought. ¡¯That would¡¯ve been a hard no.¡¯


    He paused, tapping his fingers on the armrest.


    "Hm... probably AC Milan under Berlusconi is the better target. Marco van Basten, Ruud Gullit, Frank Rijkaard... they¡¯re nearing the end of their prime. Milan¡¯s bound to start hunting for fresh legs soon. Interesting..."


    "Sir...!"


    Richard blinked and looked up, startled by the voice.


    Standing before him was a stunning flight attendant, her smile both polite and professional.


    "Sir, we¡¯ll be landing shortly at John F. Kennedy Airport in New York," she said gently.


    Richard gave a small nod, pulling himself back into the moment.


    "Right. Thank you."

 Chapter 104: The Partying Problem was Starting to Show

    Chapter 104: The Partying Problem was Starting to ShowMADISON SQUARE GARDEN ¨C NIGHT ¨C WRESTLEMANIA


    The iconic New York arena is a roaring sea of fans, signs waving high, camera flashes flickering like fireworks. The squared circle in the center glows under the spotlights.


    Announcer (Jim Ross): "Ladies and gentlemen, the atmosphere is ELECTRIC tonight at Madison Square Garden! History is about to be made¡ªagain¡ªas Yokozuna defends the WWF Championship twice in ONE night!"


    Co-commentator (Gorilla Monsoon): "You said it, JR. First against Lex Luger, and later... against Bret ¡¯The Hitman¡¯ Hart! Can Yokozuna really survive TWO challengers back-to-back?"


    Cut to: FANS in the crowd ¡ª some chanting "Let¡¯s go Lex!", others holding up Bret Hart 4 Champ signs. There¡¯s a buzz in the air, people on the edge of their seats.


    PYRO EXPLODES. Lex Luger¡¯s music hits.


    The crowd explodes as the All-American hero steps into the arena.


    Cut to: VIP SUITE ¨C PRIVATE BOX OVERLOOKING THE RING


    Richard, in a sleek grey suit, sits at a table draped in white linen. In front of him: a perfectly cooked medium-rare filet mignon, garlic mashed potatoes, and a glass of vintage red. The clatter of silverware is drowned by the deafening roar of the crowd.


    "Now this is how you watch a fight, isn¡¯t it?" Richard said with an interested expression as he glanced over at the young girl seated beside him¡ªStephanie Marie McMahon, the daughter of Vince and Linda McMahon, though the world would one day know her simply as Stephanie McMahon.


    A waiter quietly refilled Richard¡¯s wine glass, careful not to obstruct the view of the ring. Stephanie dabbed her mouth with a napkin, eyes still fixed on the spectacle before them.


    "Imagine this level of hype... but for football," she said curiously. "Think you could ever get Manchester City to draw a crowd like this?"


    Before the event, her father had personally instructed her to accompany Richard¡ªand more importantly, to learn from him. Vince believed there was plenty she could pick up from a man like Richard when it came to business, and Stephanie wholeheartedly agreed.


    She had already begun working for the World Wrestling Federation at just 13, modeling for merchandise catalogs¡ªbut this was a whole new playing field.


    Now freshly graduated from Greenwich High School, she was eager to learn more. With university just around the corner, Stephanie saw this as the perfect chance to capitalize on an opportunity to learn directly from someone who had built his empire from the ground up.


    Richard smiled, casually swirling the orange juice in his glass before answering, "Give me time."


    He paused for a moment, then continued, "Just like why I invest in your father¡¯s company. The main focus of these events is the championship¡ªthe drama of who wins the title in the end, which underdog overcomes the impossible odds, and what happens to the villain everyone loves to hate. It¡¯s pure theater."


    Back in the ring, Yokozuna enters¡ªmassive, menacing¡ªhis manager, Mr. Fuji, waving the Japanese flag.


    Jim Ross: "And here comes the 568-pound juggernaut! The WWF Champion, Yokozuna, flanked by Mr. Fuji. This is gonna be a WAR!"


    The crowd erupts in a chant: "USA! USA! USA!"


    As the match begins, the fans rise to their feet, stomping and screaming, living every punch, every suplex.


    Richard leans forward, chewing thoughtfully. ¡¯The commentator is just as important,¡¯


    Whether it¡¯s providing context, live play-by-play, analyzing the game, or enhancing the atmosphere¡ªin other words, for a lower league club like Manchester City, the quirkier the commentator, the better for building the drama and keeping viewers engaged.


    For national or international broadcasts, commentators are typically neutral, meaning they are not affiliated with either team playing in the match. However, some broadcasters or networks do have team-specific commentators, especially for local broadcasts.


    Liverpool, for example, often featured ex-players and passionate local voices, with Radio City delivering commentary that felt deeply connected to the club¡¯s fanbase.


    Arsenal embraced a fan-centric approach through platforms like Arsenal ClubCall and regular features in their official club magazines.


    Tottenham received consistent coverage from Capital Gold and other prominent London-based broadcasters, maintaining a strong presence in London¡¯s football discourse.


    Meanwhile, up north, Newcastle United¡ªriding the wave of Kevin Keegan¡¯s ¡¯Entertainers¡¯ squad in the early ¡¯90s¡ªbenefited from strong local commentary provided by Metro Radio and other North East media outlets. These voices captured the growing excitement surrounding a team that, in recent seasons, had gone toe-to-toe with Manchester United in the race for the league title.


    Richard glanced at the roaring crowd below, then at the ring. Almost instinctively, he pulled a small notepad from his jacket and jotted something down.


    "Entertainment, loyalty, merchandise, media, narrative... Emotion is currency," he mumbled to himself. He wasn¡¯t here for the winner¡ªhe was here to understand the machine behind it all.


    The event featured 10 matches, including two major bouts, running for approximately 3 hours and 30 minutes. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Cut to: RING ¨C Lex Luger with a massive clothesline!


    The crowd roared as Lex Luger sent his opponent crashing to the mat. The commentators were nearly losing their voices, their excitement palpable.


    Gorilla Monsoon: "LEX HAS GOT HIM! THIS COULD BE IT!!"


    Back in the VIP section, Richard stood up and turned toward Stephanie McMahon, who was still on the edge of her seat, captivated by the action unfolding in the ring. "Done here," he said, straightening his suit jacket. "Are you staying?"


    Stephanie, her eyes glued to the ring, nodded distractedly. Her excitement was evident as the match reached its peak. Richard smiled to himself, knowing she was absorbing every bit of the entertainment her father had carefully crafted.


    "Alright," Richard said, already moving toward the exit. "I¡¯ll catch up with you later."


    He made his way to the back of the arena, where he was escorted to a private office. Inside, a few of the event organizers were wrapping up their business, finishing up some last-minute payments and settlements.


    Richard glanced at the piles of paperwork, then at the man in charge. "How many viewers tuned in for the pay-per-view event?"


    "Oh, Mr. Richard. Wait for a moment," the man said.


    After a moment, he answered, "A total of 420,000 people watched the event."


    Richard nodded, satisfied with the result. It was basically in line with Fay¡¯s projections. He leaned forward and lowered his voice, "Let¡¯s get this payment sorted. I expect the funds to be in my account by the end of the week."


    The man nodded quickly, tapping away at his computer. "Of course, Mr. Richard. Everything is in order. We¡¯ll get it processed for you right away."


    "Thank you very much," Richard said before slipping a few $20 bills into the man¡¯s hand. He walked out without another word.


    While Richard was in America handling business, Manchester City was facing a major crisis back home.


    The team had earned a new nickname: they were now being dubbed the "Draw Specialists."


    They had drawn again, 2-2 at home against Burnley, and dropped another two points with a 2-2 draw at Northampton, following a previous 1-1 draw at home to Chesterfield.


    And so with eight games played the Blues were out of the promotion pack sat in 7th, nine points behind leaders Stoke.


    After a two-day break, the players showed a slight decline in their physical condition when they returned to the training ground. O¡¯Neill stood on the sidelines for a while, observing their performance.


    "Boss, do you think we should bring Ronaldo and Roberto back into the starting lineup?" Robertson, the assistant manager, asked cautiously.


    "What?" O¡¯Neill raised an eyebrow at the question, pretending he hadn¡¯t heard it.


    "..."


    Robertson could only sigh. Six matches without a single win¡ªif he was being honest, they needed someone who could break the deadlock. And to be honest, they already knew the answer.


    In terms of rebuilding the team, progress needed to be made step by step. Facing a league like the Second Division, wing crosses were a tried-and-tested strategy. Emphasizing technical play could lead to collapse under rough fouls, meaning traditional wing strategies could not be discarded.


    However, they had a secret weapon¡ªRonaldo.


    He broke away from the mold of a traditional striker, bringing flair, unpredictability, and sheer menace to opposition defenders. If he kept up this level of performance in the Premier League, there was no doubt top clubs would start circling, regardless of how many years he still had left on his contract with City.


    It¡¯s the same with Roberto Carlos and Cafu. The role of crossing from the wings was evolving, now shared between traditional wingers and full-backs, reflecting the trend toward versatile player roles in modern football.


    It¡¯s just that they were in a dilemma now.


    On one hand, they knew O¡¯Neill always demanded strict discipline, which was why they 50% agreed to sideline Ronaldo and Roberto Carlos. On the other, another 50%, they hoped that starting the Brazilians might finally boost City¡¯s performance.


    Robertson Sighed, ¡¯Why couldn¡¯t they be more like their fellow countryman?¡¯


    This contrast left him and the coaching staff scratching their heads. Look at Cafu¡ªhe spent every waking moment dedicated to football. It was the complete opposite of the two Brazilians who had just shown up late for training.


    With Robertson bringing up Ronaldo and Roberto Carlos, O¡¯Neill¡¯s mood became noticeably more somber.


    He quickly blew the whistle and called for the session to stop. Then, he summoned the rest of the coaching staff for a brief internal meeting. The decision was swift: today¡¯s training would be revised and shifted to focus solely on strength and stamina recovery.


    Nothing else mattered right now but restoring the team¡¯s physical condition.


    O¡¯Neill knew very little about training¡ªjust like during his time at Wycombe. He had always left that part to Robertson and Walford, his trusted assistant and coach.


    Now, with the help of people like Meulensteen, Phelan, and McClaren, the coaching team¡¯s division of labor was clearly defined. O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t need to worry about the technical details¡ªhis only job was to review and approve the training plans they presented.


    This actually saved him time¡ªallowing him to focus on other pressing matters.


    After finalizing the changes to the training session, he made his way down to the physiotherapy room. Inside, the club doctor stood at a lightboard, staring intently at a set of fresh knee scans. His expression was grim.


    "How¡¯s Lake?" O¡¯Neill asked quietly, referring to the extent of Paul Lake¡¯s injury sustained during the match against Blackpool.


    The doctor turned, clearly bracing for the conversation. "It¡¯s not good. Same knee. The reconstruction¡¯s failed again. We¡¯ll need another full scan to be sure, but..." He exhaled slowly. "It¡¯s looking like the end of the road."


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s jaw tightened. "I heard your head physio said he was 100% fit," he said, his voice low but edged with frustration.


    The doctor didn¡¯t respond right away¡ªonly offering a slow, regretful shake of the head.


    Seeing the silence, O¡¯Neill let out a deep breath. "Will he play again?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.


    "We¡¯ll send him for another scan to confirm the damage. But I¡¯ll be honest¡ªanother surgery, another rehab... it¡¯s a long shot. And a cruel one. At this point, we¡¯re probably talking about managing pain, not a return to playing."


    The words stung, even if he¡¯d expected them¡ªespecially for O¡¯Neill. He gave a tight nod, then quietly left the room, the ache of the news clinging to him like a shadow.

 Chapter 105: As the Legend Watches, Another Is Born

    Chapter 105: As the Legend Watches, Another Is BornFour days later, City¡¯s bus stopped at the designated spot.


    When O¡¯Neill and his coaching staff led the players out, they were surprised to see that the crowd surrounding them was filled with City fans¡ªwearing blue jerseys.


    Despite only being allocated around two thousand tickets for the match, they had shown up in force to support their team. All around them, chants rang out: "We¡¯re not really here! We¡¯re not really here!"


    The chant symbolized Manchester City¡¯s struggle in the lower leagues over the past six years¡ªand it continued to echo even now. O¡¯Neill had already come to understand its deeper meaning.


    "We¡¯re Not Really Here"¡ªa chant loosely based on the spiritual We Shall Not Be Moved, which was famously used during the Civil Rights Movement in America¡ªhad become a unique anthem for City fans.


    It had likely gained traction due to the club¡¯s ongoing struggles in the lower leagues, becoming a symbol of hope and resilience.


    City fans, who could hardly believe their club had fallen so far, adopted the chant in typical ironic, self-deprecating fashion.


    There¡¯s also another school of thought¡ªthat the lyrics were inspired by a City fan¡¯s death during a trip to Amsterdam. A branch of supporters began singing about their late friend, and the chant eventually evolved into the wider anthem it is today.


    O¡¯Neill found it ironic, but still gratifying. At least City had loyal fans who were willing to support their team no matter what.


    Today¡¯s match marked City¡¯s first true heavyweight challenge, and their first FA Cup match of the season¡ªa real test, as they were set to face Nottingham Forest, a club freshly promoted to the Premier League after last season¡¯s success.


    Under the leadership of Frank Clark, who had succeeded Brian Clough, Forest had impressed. They were currently sitting in second place in the Premier League¡ªa position that had surprised many.


    In fact, Forest had launched an unexpected and serious title challenge, competing with heavyweights like Manchester United, Blackburn Rovers, Leeds United, Arsenal, and Liverpool.


    It had been decades since a newly promoted club reached such heights¡ªsince Kevin Keegan¡¯s Newcastle¡ªand for Forest fans, this moment marked the beginning of a thrilling new Chapter, with their first European campaign on the horizon since the post-Heysel era.


    The atmosphere in City¡¯s locker room was electric¡ªso much so that even Robertson, the assistant manager, hesitated to remind the players it was time to head out.


    The squad was brimming with young talent, many of whom had never faced a Premier League giant before. Looking at the players¡¯ faces¡ªtrembling with excitement, fire in their eyes¡ªhe thought it wasn¡¯t necessarily a bad thing. With a sigh, he joined O¡¯Neill and the other coaches.


    When O¡¯Neill looked at Forest¡¯s starting lineup, he was confused. Glancing up, he asked, "Are you serious?"


    No Stan Collymore¡ªtheir number 10. No Des Lyttle¡ªtheir defensive anchor. Even Scott Gemmill and Lars Bohinen, two of their key midfielders, were left on the bench. In fact, the only player in the Nottingham Forest squad he recognized was their captain, Stuart Pearce.


    That could only mean one thing: this was their second string.


    McClaren, who had just returned from the official pre-match meeting with the referee and opposing coaching staff, sighed. "It can¡¯t be helped," he said, shaking his head. "Three days from now, Forest face Leeds¡ªprobably the game they¡¯re really focused on."


    O¡¯Neill nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place. "That means no excuses for us either," he muttered. "They think they can take us lightly. Let¡¯s make them regret that. Ronaldo! Roberto!" he called, his face hardening.


    The moment both Ronaldo and Roberto Carlos heard their names, their eyes instantly lit up. "Yes, boss!" they responded eagerly in broken English, anticipation sparking in their voices.


    O¡¯Neill studied them for a moment, searching their faces for any sign of remorse or guilt. What he saw instead were hopeful expressions that made his heart soften just a little. Yeah, they¡¯re still young after all, he thought.


    Taking a step closer, O¡¯Neill¡¯s tone turned serious. "Do you understand what you did wrong?"


    Their eyes briefly dropped, then they nodded. "Yes, boss. No more parties."


    O¡¯Neill let out a deep sigh, crossing his arms. "You know the rules. You were given a chance¡ªand you blew it. Parties are fine when you¡¯re focused and professional, but this... this is the third time." He paused, letting the gravity of his words settle. "So, as much as I don¡¯t want to do this, it¡¯s time for some punishment."


    Their faces fell, the playful glint in their eyes fading as reality set in. O¡¯Neill knew this wasn¡¯t going to be easy, but discipline was necessary. "You¡¯ll both be doing extra fitness training for the next week. No skipping. And you¡¯ll apologize to the rest of the squad."


    They nodded again, shoulders slumping in acceptance. "Understood, boss. We won¡¯t let you down."


    O¡¯Neill gave a firm nod. "Good. Let this be a reminder¡ªnot just to you two, but to everyone on this team. Focus and discipline come first. Now, go get ready. The manager said you¡¯re both in the starting lineup! We¡¯ve got a match to win."


    They turned to leave but paused and looked back at him. It hit them¡ªthey were actually in the starting lineup.


    "Emile, swap with Ronaldo for the starting lineup. Nick for Roberto!" O¡¯Neill announced.


    Emile Heskey¡¯s face fell. Being swapped out just before kick-off never felt good. But after a brief pause, he composed himself.


    ¡¯Yeah, he¡¯ll probably be out partying again after this, just like before,¡¯ he thought quickly.


    In fact, Ronaldo had tried to get him to join a few times, but he had always turned him down. His mouth twitched at the memory.


    Three straight weeks of partying¡ªevery weekend, even staying out late before training. No wonder they had been dropped from the starting lineup. Emile figured it wouldn¡¯t be long before they got into trouble again, so he wasn¡¯t too concerned.


    O¡¯Neill, thinking Emile was upset, patted him on the shoulder. "Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re still young. You¡¯ve started the last three matches. You¡¯ve got plenty of time to learn."


    "I¡¯m good, boss," Emile replied calmly.


    With that, O¡¯Neill clapped his hands sharply to get everyone¡¯s attention.


    "Lift your heads, all of you¡ªlift your heads!" His voice cut through the room like a spark. "We haven¡¯t even played yet, and they¡¯re already underestimating us. Don¡¯t let those Garibaldis think we¡¯re scared of them. Understand? Now let¡¯s go out there and play our game! Now go¡ªgo show them!"


    With a roar, the players instinctively straightened up, heads held high. They walked out of the locker room, chests puffed out, ready to face whatever lay ahead.


    For the first time in six matches, Manchester City was finally fielding their strongest lineup¡ªRonaldo and Roberto Carlos were both back in the starting eleven after being sidelined due to disciplinary issues.


    While the team was still preparing, in the VIP box of City Ground sat a legendary figure¡ªBrian Clough.


    To most people, the name might have seemed unfamiliar. But to the world of English football, it was nothing short of iconic, legendary. He was the kind of man who could reprimand players and managers alike, regardless of their status. Even Sir Alex Ferguson wouldn¡¯t dare talk back if Clough decided to scold him. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Ever since he stepped into the world of football, his name had appeared countless times, always accompanied by miraculous achievements.


    As a player, he set the record for the fastest to score 200 goals. He scored 251 league goals in 274 matches for Middlesbrough and 54 goals in 61 appearances for Sunderland. It was an extraordinarily impressive scoring rate.


    However, what truly made his name renowned worldwide and earned him the title of "the godfather of football" for an entire generation was his managerial career.


    Brian Clough¡¯s Generation. Just hearing the name evokes memories of how spectacular Derby County was during that time. Clough needed only two years to transform the struggling Second Division team into champions, and the following season, they won the First Division title. They then reached the semifinals of the European Cup later, though they were ultimately defeated by Juventus.


    After resigning from Derby County, Clough joined Nottingham Forest, where he created an entirely new Forest Dynasty. There was no need for further illustration; anyone with even a basic knowledge of football in the 70s and 80s would know that the dominant color of English and European football during that era was red. That¡¯s because the two teams that ruled European football at the time both wore red jerseys¡ªLiverpool and Nottingham Forest.


    The sun at 3 p.m. streamed through the large glass window, casting its golden light across the table. The golden rim inlaid on the ceramic cup sparkled in the sunlight. Black tea with sugar, a warm afternoon, and two people¡ªa man and a woman¡ªchatting, created the perfect scene for a traditional English high tea.


    Mrs. Clough had finished the preparations and was now sitting beside her husband. She smiled as she listened to him reminisce about his glory days. Last year, when he decided to retire from Nottingham Forest, she feared that her husband had lost both hope and the will to live. So, seeing him so energetic again was a true pleasure for her.


    Frank Clark, Clough¡¯s successor and the current Forest manager, reassured him, "You¡¯ll hear us score one goal after another."


    This filled Clough with anticipation. After all, it could be said that Forest was now a team left behind by him. Even Derby County, a year after he left, managed to win the title once before eventually being relegated. Surely, he could expect the same from the current Nottingham Forest, right?


    But as the match began, Clough watched, stunned, as goal after goal was scored. However, they weren¡¯t by Nottingham Forest¡ªthey were by the away team, Manchester City. Just half an hour into the match, his legacy team had already conceded a goal.


    And that wasn¡¯t the end.


    "Ronaldo! Ronaldo shoots and scores! What a beautiful attack! He gains possession outside the penalty area, dribbles past three players, and puts Manchester City 2¨C0 ahead of Nottingham Forest!"


    Clough sat, dumbfounded in his chair, unable to believe what he had just seen.

 Chapter 106: The Bus was Attacked!

    Chapter 106: The Bus was Attacked!From the very first whistle, one player stole the spotlight, leaving the audience with a lasting and unexpected impression.


    Ronaldo.


    His tactical role required him to form the first line of defense as soon as the opposition advanced, applying relentless pressure to win the ball back. He delivered¡ªsurpassing even O¡¯Neill and his staff¡¯s expectations.


    He was like a beast, hungry for the ball. Was this the result of not playing in the past three matches? He looked absolutely possessed.


    And when we say beast, we mean it¡ªa true wild beast. He played with feral intensity, pressing with reckless abandon. Just minutes into the game, he earned the match¡¯s first yellow card.


    City Ground was nearly drowned in jeers.


    Frank Clark, Forest¡¯s manager, was all too familiar with that sound¡ªand his expression turned grim.


    O¡¯Neill called out from the sidelines, reminding Ronaldo to watch his challenges and avoid a second booking.


    Ronaldo nodded thoughtfully, gave a thumbs-up, and refocused on the game.


    English Football in the 1990s had a narrow view. Those who thrived in the heat of physical confrontations¡ªtackles, putting in hard graft¡ªwere praised for their grit, toughness, and relentless determination. In contrast, players with technical flair¡ªdribbling, passing, and creativity¡ªwere sometimes unfairly seen as overly focused on finesse and were often dismissed as being flashy or showy.


    As a result, technical flair often goes unnoticed. No matter how high your dribbling success rate, how precise your passes, or how creative your playmaking, these skills are often overshadowed by the perception that the physical, "dirty" work is the true measure of a player¡¯s worth.


    This is why, despite Spain¡¯s football scene being somewhat similar to Ligue 1, with only Barcelona and Real Madrid dominating in the future, people still favor them. Their style of play is more technical and often more satisfying to watch.


    La Liga - slick dancers, highly technical.


    Premier League - a group of rowdy boys.


    Serie A - philosophical about it all.


    Ligue 1 - never the best, never the worst.


    Bundesliga - One bully and one or two vassals of his choosing who together rule the roost.


    But today, Ronaldo shattered that perception. He was the complete package.


    When switching from attack to defense, he pressed aggressively¡ªmore tirelessly than any player on the field. And when moving from defense to attack, his blistering pace, technical ability, and especially his dribbling, truly overwhelmed the opposition defense.


    One guy definitely isn¡¯t enough. Two might work, but you also need to be cautious of his powerful shot, as he can score from a distance or in tight spaces. Three is the safe number to make him stop for a moment; however, that leaves enough room for others to exploit the gaps in Forest¡¯s defense.


    "Warner, Haaland, what are you doing?! Press him¡ªdon¡¯t let him get through!" Clark, Forest manager shouted, as Ronaldo was already making yet another dangerous move.


    The decision proved fatal. The moment Forest¡¯s defense shifted all their focus onto Ronaldo, someone else quietly began to stir up trouble.


    51st minute.


    "Ronaldo again!" the commentator¡¯s voice rang out, filled with anticipation. "He¡¯s been absolutely everywhere tonight! Taken a few knocks, but still going strong¡ªreal old-school stuff. That¡¯s what the fans love to see!"


    "Look at this¡ªthree men on him! Warner, Haaland, Rosario¡ªall trying to stop the lad. But he¡¯s not having it, is he? Twists out of trouble¡ªoh, that¡¯s cheeky¡ªand what a pass! He¡¯s pinged it cross-field, 40 yards, right to Cafu¡¯s boots!"


    With that sweeping cross-field pass, Ronaldo changed the game¡¯s tempo in a heartbeat. The ball arced through the air, sailing past the defenders and landing perfectly at the feet of Cafu, already sprinting down the right touchline at full speed.


    The stadium held its breath.


    "Cafu¡¯s on it¡ªhe¡¯s picked it up cleanly! Forest are in trouble now!"


    With flawless control, Cafu surged forward like a freight train, his pace unstoppable.


    "Cafu¡¯s flying down the right like an express out of Euston! Lovely first touch¡ªkeeps it in play¡ªand... hang on! He¡¯s whipped it in deep¡ªwhat¡¯s this?!"


    Just as a defender rushed in, Cafu sent in a perfectly weighted cross that curved toward the far edge of the penalty box. The ball floated¡ªsuspended in the air like a thing of beauty, as if time itself had paused.


    Time seemed to slow. The crowd froze, unaware another train was about to strike.


    Charging into the scene from the opposite flank, Roberto Carlos arrived like a thunderbolt. He didn¡¯t let the ball bounce, didn¡¯t need to adjust¡ªhis body was already primed for the perfect strike. In one fluid motion, he swung his left leg through the ball¡ªa blistering volley from just outside the box.


    BANG!


    "Roberto Carlos! On the run! He¡¯s lined it up¡ªwhat a hit, son, what a hit! That¡¯s a screamer! The keeper didn¡¯t even flinch¡ªjust watched it sail in! Top corner! No chance!"


    The stadium erupted.


    The net bulged violently as the ball slammed into the top corner.


    GOAL!!!


    "Unbelievable! UN-BE-LIEVABLE! A volley from outside the penalty area¡ªRoberto Carlos!" the commentator screamed. "It¡¯s simply hard to believe! We¡¯ve just entered the second half and City have crushed Nottingham Forest! He is the future treasure of English football!"


    "This is Manchester City¡¯s third goal! They¡¯ve taken complete control, leaving Nottingham Forest¡ªa Premier League side¡ªwith no chance at all. 3¨C0! The match looks done!"


    ¡¯Done?! You worthless commentator, what are you saying? The second half just started!¡¯ Frank Clark barked angrily from the touchline.


    He cursed the commentary and immediately called for a triple substitution.


    "Oh, here we go¡ªStan Collymore, Scott Gemmill, and Lars Bohinen are coming on! Do you think this is too little too late?"


    "Well... technically, there¡¯s still around 40 minutes left. So Forest still have a shot at a miracle, right? After all¡ªthey¡¯re up against a Second Division side."


    The two thousand City fans who attended the match at City Ground were instantly ignited. How proud they were to see their team beat a Premier League side. Even if it was Forest¡¯s second-string team, they were more than satisfied watching such a performance.


    What had come over him?


    Ronaldo.


    They knew him well¡ªhe had featured in the first three opening matches of the Second Division. But even then, he hadn¡¯t shown this kind of intensity.


    That question lingered in the minds of many Blues supporters. But it didn¡¯t matter. What mattered was what he gave them on the pitch¡ªand they had found their hero.


    And soon enough, they found their voice too.


    They sang, loud and proud: "We¡¯ll drink a drink a drink, To Ronaldo the King, the King, the King¡ª He¡¯s the leader of Man City, He¡¯s the greatest inside forward, That the world has ever seen!"


    For the next 30 minutes, even without scoring, City dominated the match¡ªrelentlessly pressing forward, bombarding Forest¡¯s goal, and leaving their defenders dazed and scrambling. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The arrival of Stan Collymore, Scott Gemmill, and Lars Bohinen did shift the rhythm of the game as they brought more stability, but it wasn¡¯t enough to dampen City¡¯s fiery momentum. If anything, it only pushed Forest into a more defensive stance, struggling to contain the energy and aggression coming at them.


    City¡¯s attack flowed with a mix of precision and flair. Their passing was sharp, their dribbling confident¡ªbuilt on simplicity and freedom. Ronaldo roamed wherever he pleased, supported by Roberto Carlos, who frequently made overlapping runs, unshackled by rigid instructions.


    Up front, Shaun Goater provided the perfect balance, while Cafu¡¯s dangerous crosses from the right left Forest¡¯s tier-two squad unable to anticipate the threat. In the middle, Ian Taylor, Tony Grant, Steve Lomas, and Ian Ferguson formed a solid and reliable core, while at the back, Campbell and Cox stood firm.


    In a corner of the field, a group of City supporters gathered around their players, celebrating their third goal of the match with exuberant joy.


    Meanwhile, the Nottingham Forest coaching staff wore grim expressions. No one had anticipated such a massacre in this match.


    In the VIP box, Clough was taken aback by the sight of a player of Ronaldo¡¯s caliber in the Second Division. He couldn¡¯t help but be intrigued. He¡¯d have to speak with Forest management¡ªsurely, a player like that deserved to be in the Premier League. Who would want to play in the Second Division? A talent like his? It was almost unthinkable


    The electronic scoreboard read 0:3, the red numbers glaring like fresh blood.


    Angry fans directed their frustration at Forest¡¯s manager, with numerous middle fingers raised in protest against Clark¡¯s decisions, as they voiced their fury over the team¡¯s performance.


    If Richard were here, he would definitely know them¡ªthe Forest Executive Crew, the club¡¯s firm¡ªwho were facing the reality of such an embarrassing display. Their vulgar gestures and middle fingers expressed their utter displeasure.


    Some even started wondering if the 11 men on the field had skipped a good night¡¯s sleep. Had they spent the night indulging in the local ¡¯entertainment¡¯ before the match?


    The thought crossed their mind, and they couldn¡¯t help but scowl and grit his teeth at the shameful display.


    As the final whistle blew, a deafening silence descended over the City Ground, broken only by the eruptions of celebration from a small blue section in the stands, standing out against the sea of red


    The underdog victory¡ªa 3-0 thrashing of a Premier League club¡ªwas a triumph no one had anticipated.


    City¡¯s players stood tall, basking in the glory of their dominant performance, while their fans roared in approval.


    But unfortunately, the jubilant mood didn¡¯t last long. As the they made their way to the team bus, an ominous tension began to rise.


    Forest fans, seething with frustration, hurled insults and empty beer cans at them. At first, it seemed like a small, isolated group¡ªbut the crowd quickly grew. A bottle, then a few plastic cups. Before anyone could react, the situation escalated. A barrage of projectiles¡ªcups, cans, even stones¡ªrained down on the vehicle.


    From the other side of the square, two thousand City supporters¡ªstill high on the thrill of victory¡ªerupted in anger at the sight of their players being targeted. They surged forward. Insults were exchanged. In moments, a group of hooligans clashed in the middle of the street.


    Right then, the heavy police presence that had been quietly monitoring the match sprang into action.


    Mounted officers charged onto the scene, their horses parting the crowd with sheer force. Riot police, clad in full gear, moved in to form barricades, pushing to keep the two factions apart. They were trained for moments like this¡ªbut handling raw emotion, especially in the aftermath of a heated football match, was never easy.


    Officers quickly began arresting those causing trouble, their batons raised to break up the clashes before they spiraled further out of control.


    Amid the chaos, a group of young City fans¡ªblue scarves wrapped around their necks¡ªstood firm, undeterred by the hostility. They kept singing, kept chanting. They had just witnessed a historic moment, and no amount of provocation could silence their pride.


    But those who were caught in the violence, whether retaliating or simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, found themselves face-to-face with the force of the law.


    The scene was chaotic, but as the police began to regain control, the clashes slowly began to die down.


    The City players finally boarded their bus. As it pulled away from City Ground, the fans who had taken part in the fight were either being carted off by the police or retreating into the shadows, nursing both their pride and their wounds.


    The victory would be remembered¡ªand it seemed that by tomorrow morning, both City and Forest would be making the headlines once again.

 Chapter 107: WWW Conference

    Chapter 107: WWW ConferenceRichard didn¡¯t even know what was happening with his Manchester City at the time, because he was very busy himself.


    Internet and Computers.


    It all began in 1995.


    Just adding ".com" to a company¡¯s name could send its stock price soaring. The stock market was engulfed in a frenzy of speculation and hysteria.


    Companies like Cisco became symbols of the dot-com bubble. As internet mania swept across the world, Cisco dominated the essential networking equipment market, making its stock price surge feel almost inevitable.


    And it all started around the time AT&T dumped NCR in 1995, just as the dot-com bubble was beginning to form. If they had held on just a little longer, they might have reaped massive profits. But unfortunately, there are no "ifs" in business. They missed the opportunity that was right under their noses.


    Of course Richard didn¡¯t know any of this yet. But in his own way, he was walking the same tightrope.


    The dot-com bubble was fueled by the mass adoption of computers and the internet¡ªand for him, knowing that was enough.


    As long as you rode the wave, wealth was almost guaranteed¡ªat least for the next five years.


    Yes, you¡¯re right¡ªfive years.


    Just five years after it began, everything vanished like sea foam on the shore.


    By 2000, it all came crashing down.


    The dot-com bubble burst.


    Investors panicked and slammed their wallets shut. Founders everywhere were left scrambling. Without fresh funding, many had no choice but to sell their companies for pennies on the dollar.


    "That¡¯s why timing is everything in life," Richard mumbled, fiddling with PowerBook 5300¡ªthe first generation of PowerBook laptops manufactured by Apple Computer to use the PowerPC processor.


    "Can I buy this already?" Richard asked the woman at the Apple booth as he fiddled with the laptop on display. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Unfortunately not, sir," she replied with a slightly apologetic smile. "This is just a prototype. The final product won¡¯t be released until next year."


    Soon, the laptop gave a faint chime, and a browser window sluggishly blinked to life. The homepage slowly rendered line by line¡ªfirst the header, then a clunky banner, followed by rows of blue links on a gray background.


    "Ah, it¡¯s connected!" Richard finally exclaimed as the internet connected and he could start browsing.


    Even though the technology wasn¡¯t as advanced as in the future, it was still useful for certain tasks.


    "See, sir? The PowerBook is very reliable, lightweight, and perfect for both work and travel, especially for professionals and students¡ª" she then said enthusiastically.


    Richard opened the internet browser and typed several links, only to be disappointed with how few results he had gotten.


    It seemed like people and businesses weren¡¯t yet familiar with creating their own pages. There was nothing he could recognize. It was as if the internet was devoid of users and information at this time.


    Behind him, people streamed by, casting curious glances at the booths, eager to discover the latest innovations in the world of technology. It was the dawn of a new era for many internet users, after all.


    WWW Conference, Sands Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA


    This marked the second World Wide Web Conference, following the first in Geneva, Switzerland. It was a pivotal moment in internet history, hosted by Tim Berners-Lee and his team at CERN.


    At this time, the conference still had a raw, early-stage feel, mostly attended by hackers, phreakers, government watchers, and curious tech enthusiasts.


    Thinking about it, Richard stared at the screen for a moment before remembering something and typing in a particular address. They should have already started at this time, right?


    There!


    On the screen, he curiously ended up on a page titled Guide to the World Wide Web.


    However, the current Yahoo!... how to call it?


    It was very confusing. Only after tinkering for a while did he begin to understand.


    At this stage, Yahoo! was more of a directory than a search engine. It wasn¡¯t anything like the Yahoo! everyone would come to know. The famous Yahoo! portal hadn¡¯t been created yet.


    When the page finally loaded, Richard explored its directory, finding websites categorized by interest, searching for keywords, or simply browsing popular sites. But as he navigated the directory, he quickly realized that the page was still full of issues and lacked a clear simplicity. It felt more like a rough draft¡ªan experiment in progress.


    At this point, the founder probably hadn¡¯t yet envisioned the concept of a full-fledged portal. After all, scrolling through the simple layout, there was no resemblance to the ¡¯real¡¯ Yahoo.


    "Oh, sir, is that...?" the woman at the Apple booth asked, noticing Richard open the familiar page.


    Richard looked up, surprised. "You know this?"


    She nodded. "Yeah. They gave a presentation here yesterday, trying to secure funding. But it seems they didn¡¯t make it."


    "They failed?" Richard blinked, taken aback.


    She said with a slight shrug, "Judging by the lack of interest they got, it doesn¡¯t look promising. And honestly, they¡¯re not the only ones trying to build directories like this. Lycos, WebCrawler, Gopher, Archie, Spiral, W3Catalog¡ªthey all presented yesterday too."


    "Ah, the competitors... Wait, Lycos? How did they do? Did they get funding?" Richard asked, his curiosity piqued.


    Lycos, the company with the fastest initial public offering from inception to listing on NASDAQ, and the first search engine to go public.


    "Yes," the woman replied. "They secured $2 million in venture capital from CMGI."


    Richard sighed, glancing around. "I¡¯m late..."


    "Sir, are you here to invest?"


    Richard nodded.


    "Technology only... or...?"


    "I don¡¯t mind, as long as it can bring me profit," he said dismissively.


    The woman nodded, glancing around before leaning in closer. "Sir, to be honest, there are so many booths here... How about I show you something good? I promise, you won¡¯t be disappointed."


    Richard couldn¡¯t help but give her a second look. ¡¯Gold digger? Scammer?¡¯


    "You know your way around this place?"


    "Absolutely, sir. I¡¯ve got experience. I was a booth host at the conference in Geneva last year too. A lot of the teams that failed then are back again this year. I know which ones are worth your time."


    Richard rubbed his chin, scrutinizing the woman. Something wasn¡¯t right.


    "What about your Apple booth?" he asked.


    "No worries," she replied confidently. "My shift ends in thirty minutes, anyway. I¡¯m just a contract worker, so it¡¯s fine."


    Richard glanced at his watch and shook his head. Thirty minutes was too long. With only five hours left before the conference ended, he couldn¡¯t afford to wait for her.


    As if she had already picked up on Richard¡¯s cue, the woman asked him to wait a moment. A short while later, she returned in casual clothes, her booth uniform gone.


    "Don¡¯t worry, sir," she said with a smile. "My friend¡¯s covering for me¡ªwe¡¯ve already switched shifts. I¡¯m all yours now."


    Richard¡¯s heart chilled hearing that. ¡¯What is with this woman?¡¯ He was about to turn her down when she added, "Sir, I saw you were interested in Yahoo? How about you come with me¡ªand in return, I¡¯ll give you their contact information?"


    Richard finally stopped. ¡¯Who were the founders again?¡¯ he thought. He couldn¡¯t remember their names.


    Seeing Richard remain silent, the woman pressed on, "Sir, even though they failed yesterday, they¡¯re still from Silicon Valley. Companies like that usually already have venture capitalists lining up. If you want to catch them, you need to act fast."


    "..."


    "Did you really say you have their contact information?"


    "I promise you, sir."


    "...Give me their information first."


    "Impossible. You need to follow me first."


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched at her quick thinking. But now, he was finally interested. ¡¯Is this woman actually asking me to follow her? Why? Hmmm, as long as it¡¯s still within the conference, I don¡¯t mind, actually. I¡¯m curious too..¡¯


    "Alright, lead the way."


    "Okay, follow me, sir."


    While walking briskly beside the woman, Richard asked, "What¡¯s your name?"


    "Marina," she replied simply.


    After walking for a moment, they finally arrived at a booth that made Richard¡¯s eyes widen.


    "Evrazholding...? Russian?" Richard was stunned as he noticed the unmistakable Russian flag alongside the American one at the booth. "You¡¯ve got to be kidding me¡ªout of all the American companies here?"


    He picked up a brochure, still processing what he was seeing. "And how on earth did a metal trading company even end up at a World Wide Web conference?"


    While Richard and Marina were still engaged in conversation, inside the Evrazholding booth, the man¡ªwho was the Director of Public Relations for the company¡ªsat there, clearly bored.


    To be honest, opening a booth here wasn¡¯t really about promoting the company. It was more about trying to find investors for their small company.


    He sighed, deeply frustrated. He understood his boss¡¯s desire to explore every possible scenario to attract investment, but setting up a booth at a tech-focused conference like this?


    "Look, everyone here is either a government official or a tech geek. How could they possibly be interested in a small steel-making company?" he muttered under his breath. "It doesn¡¯t make sense."


    But then, as his boss¡¯s intern arrived, the man¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡¯Operation infiltration succeeded. Finally!¡¯


    "Hello, hello, welcome!" the man happily stood up and immediately pulled Richard toward him, making Richard facepalm at his overenthusiasm.


    Of course, Richard understood the reason behind this. Just the keyword "Russian" was enough for him to imagine what was happening at this moment. Thanks to his acquisition of Rover Group, he had at least kept up with global economic trends.


    After the collapse of the Soviet Union, Russia was transitioning to a market economy, shifting from its old centralized system to one that embraced private ownership and competition.


    He was aware of Russia¡¯s loans-for-shares auctions program, where their government offered shares in state-owned companies as collateral for loans from private banks.


    The shares were sold off in auctions, but the deals were structured in a way that the government, in many cases, couldn¡¯t repay the loans. As a result, the private banks that provided the loans ended up acquiring the shares.


    Many of these assets were essentially sold off at a fraction of their value to a small group of oligarchs.


    One example is Evrazholding, as Richard sat there listening to the pitch from the man who introduced the background of his company.


    "I am curious though, why list in the U.S.? Why not choose Europe?" Richard asked, his curiosity piqued.


    Based on the introduction, the company now wanted to establish itself as a major player in Russia¡¯s industrial sector, focusing on steel production and metals trading.


    The problem was that Russia was struggling with hyperinflation and the collapse of state-run industries, which made growth challenging. Their solution was to seek financing by considering a listing on the U.S. market first, which made Richard confused.


    The man understood the confusion. "Moscow Stock Exchange was not yet capable of handling large public offerings, as it lacked significant market liquidity. After the collapse, our country was still undergoing significant political and economic transitions," he paused for a moment before continuing, "Let¡¯s just say the markets here are significantly more developed and liquid, with a much larger pool of capital."


    "So that¡¯s how it is," Richard nodded.


    They were hoping to tap into the American investors¡¯ appetite for foreign opportunities¡ªespecially those eager to gain early exposure to Russia¡¯s privatization efforts and the promise of post-Soviet economic growth.


    Richard found it a bit amusing¡ªafter all the effort they made to come all the way here, they ended up finding a potential investor who was from the UK, not the US.


    He shook his head and chuckled, offering a sheepish smile. "Well, the problem is... I¡¯m not even American. I¡¯m British."


    "..."


    The man glanced at his boss¡¯s intern, clearly about to criticize her¡ªbut before he could say anything, Richard spoke first.


    "But no worries, I think I¡¯m willing to listen to your pitch first. After all, there¡¯s no harm in hearing it out," he said, handing over his business card.


    The man took it, reading aloud, "Maddox Capital... that name sounds familiar." He tilted his head, trying to recall.


    Richard simply nodded. "Rover Group."


    The man¡¯s eyes widened in recognition. "Ah!" he finally remembered. "My apologies¡ªI didn¡¯t introduce myself properly. My name is Otari Arshba. It¡¯s an honor to meet you, Mr. Maddox."


    "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Arshba," Richard replied, shaking his hand firmly. "Before we go any further, tell me more about your company¡ªhow much are you seeking, and who are the other stakeholders involved?"


    "Yes, sir," Arshba nodded seriously before he began introducing the company in more detail.


    Richard, to be honest, wasn¡¯t particularly interested in investing in a small steel-making company. It was more of a formality to hear the pitch. However, when Arshba mentioned the key stakeholders, particularly the largest ones, Richard changed his mind.

 Chapter 108: Building a Serious Modern Conglomerate

    Chapter 108: Building a Serious Modern ConglomerateBefore heading to America, Richard naturally had to give clear directives to the key people handling Maddox Capital.


    As the Chairman and leading figure, leaving without proper instructions could lead to misalignment or delays in execution¡ªsomething he could not afford at this stage of Maddox Capital¡¯s expansion.


    Fay, Stuart, and Alan Mulally, who was currently serving as the CEO of Rover Group, were naturally summoned by Richard. He also brought along his brother Harry.


    "Alan, Fay, Stuart, I¡¯m sorry for summoning you without any prior notice," Richard said as he shook their hands.


    After the introductions, they all settled into the plush leather sofa in Richard¡¯s office, facing each other.


    Richard turned his attention to his brother.


    "Alright, I want to introduce you to my brother, Harry. Harry, this is Alan, the CEO of Rover Group. And this is Fay¡ªyou probably already know him. And this is Stuart, the Managing Director who¡¯s been working closely with Fay."


    Harry gave a polite nod, shaking hands with each of them. His posture was slightly nervous, but he maintained composure as he faced the experienced professionals around the table.


    Once the pleasantries were over, Richard gave them a surprise: "he would be taking over as the future CEO of our entertainment company."


    A few glances were exchanged, and Fay gave Richard a questioning look. "Entertainment?"


    "Yes, entertainment¡ªtalent agencies, actors, actresses, singers, athletes or whatever. Not football, though. Harry will be managing all of that. And I hope he can learn from you all¡ªhow to manage and run a company."


    He paused for a moment before turning to Mullaly. "Alan, you¡¯re the most experienced at managing a company. I¡¯d like you to mentor my brother."


    Alan thought for a moment before responding. "Naturally, but I can¡¯t leave the factory just yet. There¡¯s still a lot to handle there. I¡¯ll help where I can, but I need to balance things for now."


    Richard nodded in understanding. "That¡¯s fine too. Fay and Stuart are still here, so Harry will only reach out to you when he needs to." sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After addressing Harry¡¯s matter, Richard then manually listed the meeting agenda.


    "Stuart, you¡¯re in charge of the hotels. How are we progressing with both properties?" Richard asked, his tone focused.


    "St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel is currently about 50% through its renovation," Stuart replied. "We expect it to be operational by the end of next year. As for the Britannia Inter-Continental London, here¡¯s the situation..."


    Initially, Richard had planned to tear down the Inter-Continental London and build a new hotel from scratch. However, Stuart adamantly rejected this idea, offering a hundred reasons why it would be better to renovate the existing structure and add new buildings next to it, rather than starting from square one.


    "Alright, we¡¯ll go with your plan," Richard said, after some consideration.


    With so many compelling reasons¡ª99% of which would have resulted in a loss if he¡¯d pursued the original plan¡ªhe reluctantly agreed. He then turned toward Fay. "How are the finances looking? How much do we have left?"


    "With the initial ¡ê50 million you injected, we currently have about ¡ê16 million remaining. Our main expenses now are maintaining the Rover Group, taxes on both hotels, and the two plots of land in Islington and Mayfair," Fay explained.


    "Fair enough," Richard nodded, absorbing the information. He then turned to Alan Mullaly, ready to discuss the next priority.


    "We¡¯re ready to launch the Rover 100 and Rover 100 Cabriolet at the Paris Motor Show early next year. I¡¯ve already coordinated with Mr. Kawashima to oversee the final phases of design. We¡¯re also ensuring all departments are on track. The production timeline and projections are fully prepared, with any potential delays or issues being identified and handled well before the show."


    "Good," Richard replied, his gaze sharp and decisive. "Let¡¯s make sure we¡¯re all aligned on this. Next, tell me about what you mentioned regarding Honda. I need the details."


    Alan nodded. "There have been some subtle signs¡ªnothing definitive yet, but a lot of behind-the-scenes activity. Honda¡¯s been scaling back on their investments in the UK and seems to be re-evaluating their position in Europe overall. We need to be prepared in case they decide to divest from Rover Group. There¡¯s been a lot of restructuring internally recently."


    "What do you mean by ¡¯restructuring internally¡¯?"


    "Internal management changes," Mulally explained. "A few key executives have left, and there¡¯s been a noticeable reduction in their direct involvement. Several key members from Honda, including engineers who had been working at Rover, have pulled back and returned to Japan. More importantly, there¡¯s been growing speculation in Japan that Honda might be preparing to divest from their automotive interests in Europe entirely."


    "So, Honda might sell their shares?"


    Mulally nodded. "Except we can reverse the situation as soon as possible. The highest bidder will likely win. We need to stay ahead of this. If the situation escalates, we should start looking into how we can take full control of Rover if it comes to that."


    A brief silence fell over the room as the weight of the situation settled in. Richard¡¯s mind raced as he absorbed the information. After a moment, he asked, "So our best scenario is to buy their shares?"


    "The best scenario is that we don¡¯t allow any foreign company to interfere with Rover Group¡¯s management," Mulally replied.


    "Understood," Richard said, his tone resolute. "I¡¯ll think of a solution. Now, I¡¯m trusting both of you to keep things running smoothly while I¡¯m away." He then turned to Fay and Stuart. "The renovations at St. Pancras and Britannia must stay on schedule. No compromises. On top of that, I want progress reports weekly. If any major issues arise, fax me directly. I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s the middle of the night."


    Everyone nodded as they took notes.


    "So...!" Richard clapped his hands to get the attention of the people in front of him.


    "The current Maddox Capital holds several investments currently¡ªRover Group is currently our most valuable asset, followed by our real estate portfolio, and then our shares in WWF. To be honest, initially, my focus was solely on Maddox Capital."


    He shook his head slightly. "I didn¡¯t plan to acquire Rover Group at first ¡ª and then there¡¯s Manchester City, which is still under me. But now, the plans have changed. With Harry stepping in, I want him to learn first before he¡¯s ready to run the company."


    Everyone nodded in agreement. It was clear that Richard had begun shifting his focus to the investment company, after dedicating so much of his time to Manchester City until now.


    Mulally paused for a moment, then offered a suggestion. "Actually, if you¡¯re planning to establish multiple companies, rather than creating them one by one, it might be simpler to set up a parent company that oversees all the subsidiaries, much like how Boeing operates."


    "Please, Alan, do explain. You¡¯re the expert."


    "It¡¯s actually quite straightforward," Mulally continued. "You just create a parent company and then establish separate entities under that parent company. This way, you can create a recognizable brand across industries. It also makes it easier to allocate and raise funds for each subsidiary¡¯s operations and expansion. More importantly..." Mulally paused and whispered, "It¡¯s an ideal scenario to avoid tax and management complications."


    "Ah, is that so?" Richard nodded as he mulled it over.


    It means creating a company that holds controlling shares in its subsidiaries but doesn¡¯t operate them directly. Thankfully, their bureaucracy is still not too complicated.


    "Fine then. Let¡¯s restructure our management informally for now. When I return from America, we¡¯ll make it official. The parent company name will be Maddox Group. Fay, can you help register it?"


    "Got it."


    "Thank you," Richard appreciated it and continued, "Under Maddox Group, Maddox Capital will be directly under me, since the company only needs to make investments and doesn¡¯t require too many employees in the first place."


    What Richard had in mind for Maddox Capital from the beginning still hadn¡¯t changed.


    Since its inception, in the long run, market has continued to grow. Of course, there have been many crises along the way: the Great Depression, two world wars, various terrorist attacks, financial meltdowns, and more.


    Each time, there were dire predictions of financial collapse and the end of the market economy. However, while the clock can be turned back temporarily, no one can stop its ticking. Crises were overcome, and finance and industry continued to evolve¡ªlearning from their failures.


    ¡¯Let¡¯s make Maddox Capital the holding company and acquire stakes in other companies.¡¯


    That was the philosophy behind Maddox Capital.


    Since the advent of modern finance, countless investors have competed in the market¡ªsome becoming legendary.


    When considering the most iconic investor to date, Warren Buffett undoubtedly comes to mind. The legendary investor was renowned for his investment acumen from a young age, running his own investment company in his 30s.


    One key move in his career was the acquisition of a struggling textile company, Berkshire Hathaway. At the time, textiles were a declining industry, and Berkshire Hathaway wasn¡¯t generating much profit.


    Using Berkshire Hathaway¡¯s funds, he acquired National Indemnity, an insurance company, and turned it into a subsidiary. Since insurance companies regularly receive premium payments, they maintain significant cash reserves.


    Buffett then used those reserves to acquire stakes in companies with strong intrinsic value. This method might raise eyebrows under today¡¯s stricter financial regulations, but back then, oversight was much looser.


    Had things gone wrong, Buffett might have been remembered as a colossal fraudster who gambled away people¡¯s insurance premiums. But instead, he became a resounding success. His annual return rate hovered around 20%.


    At first glance, that may not sound extraordinary¡ªbut consistently earning 20% returns over 50 years is nearly unmatched. The power of compounding meant that every 3 to 4 years, assets effectively doubled. Over time, the accumulated return reached around 2,000%.


    The once-failing textile company, Berkshire Hathaway, became a powerhouse holding company with stakes in many iconic brands. It now ranks 5th in global market capitalization. Excluding tech giants like Apple and Google, it became the most valuable non-tech company.


    In addition, he has an edge ¡ª he has a glimpse of what¡¯s ahead. His vision for Maddox Capital is only to acquire significant shares in major public companies, generating profits from dividends and equity Investments.


    He alone, with his mind as his greatest asset, was enough to lead the charge. Of course, he would need a team to handle the execution, monitor and manage. Whether it¡¯s a holding company, hedge fund, or private equity fund, under the CEO, there exists the best team.


    "So Maddox Capital will be at the forefront," Richard declared. "It will be the first to identify and invest in growing companies. If there¡¯s an opportunity, acquire more than half and turn them into subsidiaries." Richard paused for a moment before continuing, "After that, Maddox Auto, Maddox Property, and Maddox Entertainment."


    Seeing everyone absorbing his words, Richard was satisfied. "One more thing," he said, pausing for effect. "Each of our subsidiaries will operate independently. I will give you all the freedom to manage them as you see fit. The headquarters will not interfere too much with day to day operations."


    "Alan, I know Rover Group is already consuming much of your time, so from now on, Maddox Auto will be overseen by Fay." He paused again, letting the words sink in. "Stuart, you will take on the role of CEO at Maddox Property. Starting now, I¡¯m giving you both the freedom to manage your companies as you see fit."


    "Harry, I hope your first task as the future person who will run the company is to seek out any entertainment companies or agencies that are already in financial distress or on the verge of bankruptcy. We will invest in them."


    Harry nodded, admiring his younger brother more than ever. This was actually the first time he had seen Richard speak so seriously.


    But Fay frowned slightly. "Richard, what about Manchester City? Are you really planning to keep it under your personal name? The taxes will be enormous. Right now¡ª"


    "I know," Richard said, cutting him off with a wry smile. He took a deep breath and added, "For now, Manchester City will remain under my name."


    ¡¯Because this is the only way I can inject funds into it through a loan scheme¡ªsome sacrifice is necessary,¡¯ he thought.


    "Eventually, Manchester City will be transferred under Maddox Capital," he continued. "My role there isn¡¯t too demanding anyway, so I believe I can handle it for the time being."

 Chapter 109: Planning for Changes

    Chapter 109: Planning for ChangesThe United States¡ªespecially Hollywood in Los Angeles, California¡ªhas long been considered the entertainment capital of the world.


    It was, after all, the beating heart of global entertainment: the epicenter of music, film, and cultural influence. If Maddox Entertainment wanted to compete on the world stage, America was the stage.


    With that in mind, Richard took his time observing the real estate scene across the States. His mouth twitched slightly.


    "Capitalist bastards..."


    The American estate tax was notoriously harsh¡ªup to 55% of an estate¡¯s total value could be claimed by the government. For Richard, that wasn¡¯t just a statistic¡ªit was a barrier.


    "I ended up working for the taxman instead of the future."


    "Estate tax is indeed a bad tax¡ªbut it¡¯s practically useless against the ultra-wealthy, who have countless ways to avoid it," said Adam Lewis, recently attending the ceremony for Barrister of the Year at the Lawyer Awards.


    Thanks to his victory representing Richard in his case against the FA and UEFA at the European Court of Justice, now he was in Los Angeles for the event.


    "This is a country where profit rules. That¡¯s why many billionaires prefer to set up trust structures, explore tax treaties, and establish headquarters in low-tax states or offshore entities," added Nick De Marco, another of Richard¡¯s legal representatives in the ECJ case.


    Nick was currently enrolled in a GDL law conversion course in the U.S., so with both of them in America, Richard took the opportunity to call for a reunion¡ªalong with some business, of course.


    Both Lewis and De Marco were currently reviewing all the results of Richard¡¯s recent negotiations and investments from the WWW Conference.


    They looked at the papers scattered across the table in disbelief. "Are you sure all these investments will pay off? You¡¯re not just throwing money around, are you?" they asked, speechless.


    Infoseek, an internet search engine with a pay-for-use service: Invested $250,000 for 33% S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    GeoCities, a platform to browse, create, publish free websites : Invested $250,000 for 45%


    Register.com, a domain name registrar company: Invested $50,000 for 25%


    WebGenesis, an online social media platform: Invested $200,000 for 20%


    WebChat Broadcasting System (WBS), a web chat service: Invested $200,000 for 30%


    All of them are internet-based companies.


    "And why would you even want to invest in a non-profit company? UUNET? You spent $300,000 for just 5% of the shares? And what is this¡ªAmazon? An online bookstore? You put $1 million into that? Have you lost your mind?" Lewis threw up his hands, completely at a loss for words.


    Richard smiled, offering no further explanation.


    "Don¡¯t worry about that," he said, waving his hand. "Now that you¡¯re here, help me with the legal matters, alright?"


    When the founder or stakeholder negotiates a deal, they typically need a lawyer or a team of lawyers to finalize everything. Like drafting, reviewing, finalizing legal documents such as contracts, investment agreements, and shareholder agreements.


    They ensure that the deal is legally binding, compliant with applicable laws, and that all parties involved are protected.


    Since Blackstone Chambers is the official law firm of Maddox Capital, they handle the due diligence, intellectual property protection, and any necessary regulatory approvals required to close the deal.


    Naturally, after finalizing the deal, Richard handed everything over to Lewis and De Marco. They both sighed at that. Lewis picked up his phone and quickly made a call to inform his team about their next assignment.


    "Alright, that¡¯s done. What else? You said there was something important you wanted to talk about?"


    Richard nodded, then pulled out his old IBM ThinkPad 775CD laptop and said, "I just had an idea for another investment."


    "Another one?" Both Lewis and De Marco exchanged a look. "Alright, what is it this time?"


    "I was browsing the internet and came across a site called Jerry and David¡¯s Guide to the World Wide Web. I¡¯m interested. What do you think? Is it possible for me to invest in their company?"


    "Oh yes, I¡¯ve seen that site before," De Marco replied, then frowned slightly. "But they¡¯re based in Silicon Valley, aren¡¯t they? Companies like that usually already have venture capital firms lined up. Richard, I¡¯ll admit this might be a good opportunity¡ªbut this is a game of big capital. You might not even get a seat at the table."


    "I know. But yesterday, during the WWW Conference, they failed to secure funding. That¡¯s why I¡¯m planning to reach out. It¡¯s worth a shot. I¡¯ve already gathered their details¡ªcan you help me set up a meeting with them?"


    What could they say? Their client had already made up his mind¡ªso they could only comply.


    "Alright. When do you want to arrange the meeting?" Lewis asked.


    "Hmmm... let¡¯s schedule it after we wrap up all the current investments," Richard replied, closing his laptop with a decisive click.


    A month passed in the blink of an eye.


    John Maddock, the current General Manager of Manchester City, couldn¡¯t help but admire Richard¡¯s clever strategy regarding the club¡¯s kit this season.


    Currently Manchester City¡¯s primary sponsor was Mancunian Transport, and their kits were supplied by Jako¡ªa German sportswear brand looking to expand its presence in the UK market. Yet, within just a month, a new sponsor came knocking.


    Brother Industries, Ltd.¡ªa Japanese multinational electronics and electrical equipment company based in Nagoya¡ªreached out with an offer to become the team¡¯s shirt sponsor.


    Because, surprisingly, Manchester City¡¯s jersey sales had skyrocketed, jumping by more than 20% this year, despite the club still playing in the second division.


    John remembered the moment clearly¡ªwhen the jersey design was first brought to Richard for approval. He had assumed Richard would follow tradition, like Peter Swales and Francis Lee before him, and stick with the club¡¯s iconic traditional City sky blue, known as ¡¯Laser Blue¡¯.


    Since the founding of the club, there were a few things that set City apart from other teams when it came to jersey sales. Usually, when talking about a football club, it¡¯s the home jersey that takes the spotlight¡ªdependable, iconic, and deeply tied to the club¡¯s identity.


    City was different, however. While the home shirt was generally well received, it was the away kit that held a special significance for Manchester City fans.


    Because the home kit remained largely unchanged year after year, former chairmen like Peter Swales and Francis Lee likely faced a dilemma¡ªshould they break tradition and revamp the home jersey, or leave it untouched? In the end, neither wanted to be the first to make that bold move.


    As a result, their creativity was channeled into designing the away kit instead. This made the away jersey not only more unique each season but often more popular in sales, consistently outperforming the home kit.


    Richard was the first to break this unspoken tradition.


    Before the season even began, he told John, "No¡ªKippax Stadium has already cut into our matchday revenue from ticket sales. If our jersey sales are weak too, we¡¯ll end up in an even worse position. We need to completely revamp both kits."


    With that, he suggested a bold change: the home shirt for the season would feature a slightly darker shade of blue¡ªa subtle but significant departure from tradition.


    "Darker blue represents the toughest period in Manchester City¡¯s history," Richard said. "Second division. I hope this change resonates with the fans, offering them a sense of hope and a sign that new management is ready to make a difference. It reflects the challenges we¡¯re facing, but also our determination to rise again."


    "As for the away kit..." Richard tapped his foot in displeasure as he scrutinized the design.


    If you compare the current kit with the designs from when City was under Mansour¡¯s ownership, this one feels outdated¡ªtoo boxy, too old-fashioned. What he wanted was a jersey that stood out, something electrifying, that no other team had.


    "When you¡¯re done with Jako, ask their designer to come in. We¡¯ll brainstorm the new design for the away jersey."


    At the end of the day, it was the luminous yellow and navy blue stripes that Richard chose. This decision left John, along with all of City¡¯s employees, stunned by the design. Even City¡¯s current solicitors and barristers, who had never been involved in such matters before, questioned Richard¡¯s choice, but he remained adamant.


    The yellow, in particular, was somewhat garish and had never been worn by City before. It was peculiar and unusual for them, let alone for Manchester City fans, who had never seen such a jersey. However, Richard believed this jersey would take on a whole new meaning when it was worn for the first time.


    And his gamble paid off.


    Although this season technically marked the lowest point in Manchester City¡¯s history, the away kit quickly transformed from an average, slightly unusual shirt to one of the most iconic jerseys in the current season.


    A frustrating few months of the season mounted pressure on O¡¯Neill, and even John started considering replacing him as soon as possible. However, Richard rejected the idea. He kept faith in him.


    This season, the English divisions underwent significant restructuring.


    For example, the Premier League was reduced from 22 teams to 20, meaning only two teams would be promoted from the First Division¡ªthe champions and the play-off winners. The same system was also implemented in the Second Division.


    Thanks to O¡¯Neill finally deploying his strongest squad, City gradually began to shake off their reputation as draw specialists¡ªgoing on an impressive run of six consecutive victories in the Second Division.


    Things changed, however, as December approached¡ªRonaldo and Cafu got injured.


    Richard, who was in America at the time, felt a sudden chill when he heard the news. He was ready to fly back to England immediately, but John assured him it was only a minor hamstring issue and nothing serious. That calmed Richard down instantly.


    ¡¯As long as it¡¯s not the knees,¡¯ he thought, deciding to stay in the U.S. for the time being.


    Cafu and Ronaldo¡¯s absence, however, threw City off balance. Without them, their unpredictability vanished, and their playing style regressed to how it had been earlier in the season.


    While they could still score¡ªthanks to the attacking trio of Solskj?r, Shaun Goater, and Paul Dickov¡ªthey were frequently caught on the counter, often losing possession in midfield.


    The climax came with yet another dismal home performance¡ªCity suffered a 1¨C0 defeat to Preston.


    It marked their third straight league game without a win just before Christmas¡ªhardly the form of a team chasing promotion. Frustration finally rippled through the stands, as fans were baffled by how City were struggling so much in the third tier of English football.


    O¡¯Neill, realizing that the squad might not be good enough to gain promotion, rang the changes at Maine Road.

 Chapter 110: Yahoo!

    Chapter 110: Yahoo!"Another player?" Richard let out a tired sigh as John called to inform him that O¡¯Neill was requesting yet another reinforcement¡ªthis time, a midfielder.


    "Coordinate with O¡¯Neill," Richard said. "If possible, try to find a loan deal so we can keep the club¡¯s expenses dow¡ª" He paused, a thought crossing his mind.


    "John, check my scouting database. Look for a French player named Patrick Vieira from AS Cannes and send the details to O¡¯Neill. He¡¯s currently playing in France¡¯s Division One."


    "Division One? Do you really think they¡¯d let one of their players go to our club?"


    Richard replied calmly, "Just try. Patrick and I already know each other. You know me¡ªI always keep tabs on players I¡¯ve had ties with. Besides, I¡¯ve heard AS Cannes is under investigation by the DNCG."


    DNCG or Direction Nationale du Contr?le de Gestion, the organization responsible for monitoring and overseeing the accounts of professional association football clubs in France.


    "I understand," John replied briskly before ending the call.


    Click.


    With that, Richard hung up and stepped out of the taxi he was sharing with Adam Lewis.


    Just yesterday, Lewis had brought promising news: the founders of Jerry and David¡¯s Guide to the World Wide Web had finally agreed to meet with him.


    Even better, during their last call, Lewis mentioned catching a spark of excitement in their voices¡ªan encouraging sign. It suggested that they still hadn¡¯t secured funding and might be in desperate need of investment, giving Richard the perfect opportunity.


    Currently, the future founders of Yahoo were still electrical engineering students at Stanford University. Their website, Jerry and David¡¯s Guide to the World Wide Web, was only a concept¡ªYahoo! had not yet been born.


    That¡¯s why they were rejected at the WWW conference the day before. Their idea was still very basic¡ªa human-edited web directory, not the powerful search engine Yahoo! would later become.


    "Many startups don¡¯t survive their early stages. You¡¯d better be careful when investing in them," Lewis warned, remaining cautious as always.


    "I know," Richard replied, undeterred. "As long as they¡¯re willing to talk, and as long as they still need funding, then I know we¡¯ll succeed. This time, we¡¯re going to make a fortune," Richard said with quiet confidence.


    "Let¡¯s hope you¡¯re right," Lewis replied. "At the end of the day, the decision¡¯s yours."


    With that, Richard packed his bags for Silicon Valley, with Lewis once again accompanying him as his legal counsel.


    Thanks to California¡¯s convenient air travel, it took them only about an hour and a half to get from Los Angeles to San Francisco¡ªjust a short drive away from Silicon Valley.


    Taking a stroll around San Francisco could wait¡ªSilicon Valley was just a few dozen kilometers south. In no time, they were on the road, heading straight into the heart of the tech world.


    When it comes to high-tech innovation¡ªartificial intelligence, the internet, and computer systems¡ªSilicon Valley instantly comes to mind. Known globally as the epicenter of technological advancement, it¡¯s home to some of the most powerful and successful companies in the world. S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Apple, Google, Facebook¡ªmany tech giants have established their headquarters here. It¡¯s not just the favorable environment; Silicon Valley¡¯s real strength lies in its ability to attract world-class talent. For companies competing at the cutting edge of innovation, establishing a base here isn¡¯t just a choice¡ªit¡¯s a necessity.


    Lewis made a call to the founders. Once the call ended, they didn¡¯t waste any time. Without delay, they headed straight to the Stanford campus, where the two founders were temporarily based.


    It wasn¡¯t long before Richard and Lewis arrived at the campus gates. After a brief check-in with security, they were cleared to enter. Navigating the grounds with the directions they¡¯d been given, they made their way toward their destination


    After several twists and turns, they finally found the place and walked toward the small portable trailer, in lieu of official offices.


    Stanford had a long history of supporting student-run projects that may or may not evolve into startups. At the very least, they were generous enough to host the current ¡¯Yahoo¡¯ team¡ªproviding traffic, content, and a trailer for office space and ¡¯sleep,¡¯ all free of charge.


    Obviously, the location isn¡¯t the best, but it is definitely understandable since they currently have no funding to get a better place yet.


    Inside the trailer, Jerry Yang and David Filo, both with youthful faces, were dressed in casual business attire. The atmosphere was charged with a mix of nervous energy and anticipation, as everyone recognized the significance of this meeting.


    An investor was coming to evaluate their company, and they knew they had to make a strong impression. It was crucial to show respect, make the investor feel comfortable, and convey the potential of their venture.


    "Don¡¯t expect it to take two months to finally meet you guys," Richard teased as he walked up to them, reaching out to shake their hands in greeting.


    Both Jerry and David¡¯s eyes lit up. Even in America, news of Richard¡¯s acquisition of the Rover Group had made waves¡ªespecially since the deal was worth over almost billion pounds!


    Still, they remained reserved. After all, to be honest, Maddox Capital wasn¡¯t even on their list of potential investors. They preferred American venture capital for their guidance and connections.


    They both sighed at the thought.


    Negotiating with an American venture capitalist is like trying to have a heart-to-heart with a snake¡ªslick, smooth, and always sizing you up and down. One wrong move, and boom, you¡¯re lunch. Now, the two founders could only pin their hopes on the man in front of them¡ªotherwise, it wouldn¡¯t be long before their systems stopped working altogether.


    They smoothed their clothes before greeting Richard.


    "Haha, you jest, Mr. Maddox. By the way, first, welcome to our company! I¡¯m Jerry Yang, and this is David Filo."


    "Just call me Richard. Can I also call you Jerry and David?"


    American greetings are more relaxed and friendly. People often use first names right away and have a more informal tone in meetings or even in professional settings.


    "Sure, make yourself comfortable, Mr. Ma¡ªI mean, Mr. Richard."


    "Haha, no worries. I have great expectations for the future of this company, and I hope that I can be a part of it," Richard said casually.


    Both Jerry Yang and David Filo glanced at each other, their eyes lighting up. Things were already looking favorable.


    Soon, they invited Richard and Lewis into the room.


    Inside, the trailer was messy, and as expected, it was only about half the size of a small studio¡ªjust enough for a few people. Yet, from the books and sheets of paper neatly arranged in the corner of the table, it was clear they spent most of their time there.


    "It¡¯s fine. Don¡¯t worry. I understand that everything has its starting point. It¡¯s the same for me. Everyone will face their own problems and challenges. Soon, you¡¯ll be able to relocate to a bigger and better office. I believe that," Richard said, sensing their slight embarrassment.


    "You¡¯re right! This is only temporary. Once we have some funds, we¡¯ll move to a better office and buy several key types of equipment. This is only a tiny setback!" they replied enthusiastically.


    Richard smiled, satisfied with their enthusiasm. Naturally, he didn¡¯t forget his purpose. He wanted to be a huge part of Yahoo¡¯s success and benefit from the great returns it could give him, all while leaving his name in the history of Yahoo... until he sold it.


    "This is all the documentation about our company, including key information about our website," Jerry Yang said as he handed several files to Richard.


    Lewis, in charge of the legal documents, stayed quiet while Richard focused on the company plans. He needed to understand their current state and overall direction to get a clearer picture of how to present an offer they couldn¡¯t refuse.


    As he expected, it was still "Jerry and David¡¯s Guide to the World Wide Web." However, he was also interested in the new Yahoo! Directory concept that they had included in the files they provided.


    "Is this the idea for the future?" Richard asked, pointing to the Yahoo! Directory files.


    "Yes, our plan is to rival DMOZ," David stated confidently.


    DMOZ, or DMoz, was a multilingual open-content directory of World Wide Web links. It was owned by AOL but constructed and maintained by a community of volunteer editors. Think of it as the father of Wikipedia.


    Jerry and David were not inexperienced entrepreneurs who had developed Yahoo! on a whim. If they were already thinking about the Yahoo! Directory, it wouldn¡¯t be long before they were able to build a full-fledged Yahoo! as people know in the future.


    After all, no matter what happened, Yahoo! was bound for success¡ªeven without him. Richard had no doubts about the company¡¯s potential.


    The current problem they faced was the same as any startup: money.


    How to get money? How to generate sustainable revenue for the company?


    Profit means everything to a company. It can determine whether they¡¯re heading toward a bright future or down a path of gloom. At the moment, they had no revenue¡ªno income at all.


    This was the idea behind the creation of Yahoo! Directory: advertising.


    They are obviously one of the most important revenue streams for internet companies, which would become an integral part of future internet giants. Luckily, the internet was not a mature industry yet, and companies were just experimenting with new business models to discover the next big thing.


    They had no idea what the future held, much like the current tech enthusiasts out there. They genuinely believed in the internet¡¯s infinite potential, but they still didn¡¯t know how to make it a reality.


    "Hmmm." Richard rubbed his chin in contemplation.


    At first, he had wanted to make a direct investment to buy shares in their company. But then, what if he could offer them an exchange of ideas for shares?


    After all, their current Yahoo! Directory was still just a concept. It wasn¡¯t too late, right?


    As Richard read through the documents and listened to the founders explain their situation, he nodded, understanding the challenges they were facing and how to make a breakthrough.


    His current weapon was clear: They hadn¡¯t yet found their unique edge in the market. Companies that continue to lose money without a business strategy or future plans are doomed to fail and disappear into history.


    Of course, he also needed to build their momentum and be fast.


    Both Jerry and David were smart people, and they understood that the real issue was the lack of funding. After securing investments, they would then figure out a way to generate revenue.


    "Have you thought about how you¡¯re going to generate profit other than advertising? You know, AOL, WebCrawlers, Spiral, or Archie also do the same thing."


    Both Jerry Yang and David Filo were silent before answering, "To be honest, we¡¯ve already thought about making it a premium dir¡ª"


    "Premium? You mean a pay-to-use service like Lycos? Why? Why would people pay for Yahoo when DMOZ is currently free? What do you mean by ¡¯premium¡¯ here¡ªquality content or something else?" Richard cut in.


    "..."


    Both were stumped, their minds racing for answers and Richard nodded, satisfied with this.


    ¡¯Hahaha, just imagine bombarding Yahoo¡¯s main banner with Ronaldo, Campbell, Ole, Cafu, and the rest. This is the perfect place to boost City¡¯s visibility,¡¯ Richard smirked, licking his lips.


    It was practically a shortcut¡ªsomething that had taken Manchester United years to achieve in building global recognition. At the very least, Richard had found a way to keep City in the spotlight for as long as possible, with minimal cost¡ªespecially with him positioned as a future stakeholder in Yahoo.


    The momentum was finally on. He then glanced through the files, realizing that he wouldn¡¯t be able to go through them in just a few hours.


    "That¡¯s all for today. We¡¯ll meet again next week. Until then, I hope you have an answer."

 Chapter 111: MLS seeking investment?

    Chapter 111: MLS seeking investment?Seven days passed quickly, and now it was time to seize the momentum. He needed to be fast.


    Rather than letting these two smart guys take the initiative, it was better for him to be the first to offer a suggestion¡ªafter all, he was the one who needed the upper hand.


    "Mr. Richard, thank you for taking the time to visit our company."


    "What are you talking about? You¡¯re underestimating your own efforts," Richard said, deciding to add a little sweetness to entice them further. "I believe I have a way to provide the company with a reliable source of revenue. How does that sound? Are you interested?"


    "..."


    "Mr. Richard, if your idea is truly viable, then perhaps we really do have a chance!" Both of them shared the same thought as their eyes locked with Richard¡¯s in shared anticipation.


    To create a comprehensive ecosystem like Yahoo using these services, you would essentially be building an integrated suite of online tools and platforms, each filling a different niche, but all working together to create value for the users and drive revenue for the company.


    Of course, Richard didn¡¯t reveal everything¡ªthis was his ace, his weapon. After all, this was Yahoo, a massive goldmine he had discovered first.


    He knew that in the future, as the company sought more funding, his equity would inevitably be diluted. So the more leverage he could secure now, the better.


    "Let¡¯s skip the whole directory thing. What I mean is¡ªthe name. Let¡¯s go with Yahoo! Just Yahoo! It¡¯s simpler, catchier, and easier to remember. Now, second..."


    Richard continued with a presentation outlining the general direction of Yahoo¡¯s future. He laid out several growth strategies, ideas for web design, and a monetization plan centered around online advertising.


    Some of the concepts were even borrowed from what would eventually become Google¡¯s playbook¡ªsuch as manipulating search results to prioritize certain companies. Businesses would gladly pay to gain an edge over their competitors, and Yahoo could capitalize on that demand directly.


    Jerry looked confused. "Mr. Richard, but... in the end, it¡¯s still just another search engine, right? I thought¡ª"


    "You were expecting something new?" Richard interrupted, already anticipating the question.


    Both Jerry Yang and David Filo nodded before Richard explained, "A simple directory won¡¯t cut it. Think of the internet as a growing city¡ªevery day, there are more roads, more buildings, more traffic. If we just organize links like a library, we¡¯re already outdated. People don¡¯t want to search¡ªthey want to find. Fast, smart, and tailored to them."


    After all, what was to stop someone like Microsoft or AOL from simply creating their own directory?


    Large companies wouldn¡¯t hesitate to spend money to gain an edge over their competitors¡ªand Yahoo could capitalize on that demand.


    For the entire night, the trailer was filled with voices and endless whispers. Several old ideas were brought back to life, wrapped in polished words that earned Richard the admiration of everyone.


    Honestly, it wasn¡¯t too hard to win the two founders over. Not only did Richard paint a clearer picture of their company¡ªas if he knew it better than they did¡ªbut he also offered them a glimpse of a bright future.


    This led the two to start seeing Richard as a fellow "visionary," just like themselves. The founders eagerly joined the discussion, asking questions and absorbing new ideas as Richard shared his insights. Their conversation carried on deep into the night¡ªright up until dawn¡ªwhen the buzzing and vibrating of Richard¡¯s phone on the table finally broke the flow.


    ZZZZ~


    Richard lazily reached over, grabbed his phone, and squinted at the screen. Vince McMahon.


    He picked up the phone with sudden energy. "Mr. McMahon!"


    Vince McMahon¡¯s voice came through with a laugh. "Richard! Why are you still up at this hour? Or are you back in London already?"


    "Haha, no Mr. McMahon. I¡¯ve just got a bit of business to finish here."


    "At this hour? So early in the morning?" Vince chuckled.


    "I couldn¡¯t help it," Richard sighed dramatically. "Since Maddox Capital isn¡¯t as big as WWE yet, I have to work hard."


    Vince burst out laughing. "You must be kidding me!" he shouted, his laughter filling the line. After a moment, he continued, "By the way, why did you leave so quickly? I thought you¡¯d stick around until WrestleMania finished?"


    Richard paused, a little awkward. "Ah, that... I didn¡¯t want to bother you. I thought you¡¯d be super busy since WrestleMania just wrapped up. But, what happened, Mr. McMahon? Did something go wrong with the event? Do you need my help?" Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "No, no," Vince replied, his voice trailing off. There was a brief pause before he cleared his throat.


    "Are you near a TV right now?"


    "TV? Ah, that¡ª" Richard quickly glanced toward Jerry and David, who nodded at him.


    "Yeah, why?" he replied.


    "Turn on ESPN. I want to hear what you think."


    Thankfully, both future Yahoo founders had a quirky habit of keeping tabs on tech happenings around the world. And since Richard was about to become a key figure in their not-yet-official company, they naturally didn¡¯t want anything jeopardizing it.


    Without missing a beat, David Filo reached for his PCMCIA TV tuner card. With a few tweaks, some cables, and just enough tech wizardry, he managed to get the setup running. Moments later, a news anchor¡¯s voice came through the laptop speakers¡ªcrackling but clear.


    The rare and clunky setup had actually worked¡ªand whatever was happening on that screen had just caught Richard full attention.


    [... the United States Soccer Federation (USSF) has officially announced its plans to launch a new professional soccer league...]


    Richard was dumbfounded by this. He then went back to his phone.


    "Mr. McMahon, is it about the new American soccer league?" Richard asked.


    In the United States, football was already well established as the name for American football. As American football grew in popularity and became the dominant sport, the term ¡¯soccer¡¯ was retained as the name for association football. This was mainly because ¡¯football¡¯ in America was associated with the gridiron game, so using ¡¯soccer¡¯ helped differentiate the two.


    "That¡¯s right. How is it?"


    Hearing this, Richard was confused. What did he mean by "how is it"?


    "Oh, that¡¯s good. I thought the league would be just fine?"


    Richard then heard a sigh from the other side before the other party spoke.


    "You know what, to be honest with you, I¡¯ve been following soccer for a long time, and I know exactly how bad things are for soccer in the U.S. I¡¯ve seen the struggles they¡¯ve had since the North American Soccer League¡¯s brief period of popularity in the 1970s and 1980s. Soccer just never held lasting cultural significance here."


    "..."


    "But that damn Anschutz!" McMahon cursed before letting out a deep breath. "I don¡¯t even know if I should invest in it or not."


    As a businessman, of course, he understood the stakes. Soccer in the U.S. was a gamble, a risk he wasn¡¯t sure he was ready to take. The market was unpredictable, and while the potential for growth was there, it was far from guaranteed.


    Richard was surprised by this.


    Invest in MLS?


    His eyes lit up.


    "Mr. McMahon, are you talking about investing in the new league?"


    "What are you talking about? No, impossible. The core members of the league have already been set. What I mean is investing in one of the clubs owned by Anschutz Entertainment Group. Since their money is already being used to fund the league, they¡¯re also looking to gather investors who would be interested in entering the clubs."


    "Ah, so that¡¯s how it is," Richard nodded.


    Richard asked many questions before finally posing the most important one.


    "Mr. McMahon, why not just reject them? Why call me?"


    "If only it were that simple," McMahon sighed. "The problem is that almost all of the arenas currently used by WWF are owned by Anschutz Entertainment Group. To be honest with you, I¡¯m not interested in investing in them. That¡¯s why I called you¡ªto ask about soccer, since you¡¯re the expert. At least I know what to expect if I go down this road."


    Anschutz Entertainment Group, Inc. (AEG), also known as AEG Worldwide, is a global leader in sports and live entertainment. It is the largest owner of sports teams and sporting events in the world.


    AEG operates a variety of venues, sports teams, and entertainment properties. These include the Staples Center, home to the Los Angeles Lakers, and Pratt & Whitney Stadium at Rentschler Field, which hosts the American football team, the New England Patriots.


    Richard thought for a moment.


    "Mr. McMahon, I¡¯m going to be frank with you¡ªif you invest in one of the clubs, I can guarantee you¡¯ll lose money for at least the next ten years," he said decisively.


    And he wasn¡¯t lying.


    Since its founding, MLS had gone through several financial struggles. There was even a year when the league was at serious risk of folding. Richard didn¡¯t know all the exact reasons, but he figured it probably had to do with competition from American football.


    If he remembered correctly, one of the major turning points for MLS came with the announcement of the Designated Player Rule¡ªalso known as the "Beckham Rule." It allowed teams to sign high-profile international stars without breaching the salary cap, which significantly boosted the league¡¯s visibility and revenue.


    "Mr. McMahon, which team did Anschutz Group want you to invest in?"


    "Oh, the Los Angeles one¡ªI forgot the exact name. But since Anschutz Group is based in L.A., naturally, their club is too."


    Richard nodded thoughtfully.


    "Mr. McMahon, how about we join hands instead? Why don¡¯t you bring me along the next time you meet with them?"


    After all, there is no universal rule that outright bans someone from owning both a club in Europe and another in Major League Soccer, right?

 Chapter 112: Becoming the LA Galaxy Founder

    Chapter 112: Becoming the LA Galaxy FounderIn 1988, the United States was awarded the bid to host the 1994 FIFA World Cup¡ªa golden opportunity to ignite the growth of soccer in the country.


    Following the tournament¡¯s success, the U.S. Soccer Federatio, led by President Alan Rothenberg honored its promise to FIFA by launching a professional soccer league in the U.S.


    In fact, preparations had already begun a year earlier, in 1993. The USSF had quietly laid the foundation, securing banking partners and assembling marketing teams in anticipation of the league¡¯s creation. Their goal was to keep the momentum alive and build something sustainable in the wake of the World Cup.


    Richard hadn¡¯t slept a wink the night before.


    Between heated conversations about Yahoo¡¯s issues and a surprise phone call from Vince McMahon, his mind was racing.


    McMahon had reached out with an unexpected proposal: an opportunity to invest in a new team as MLS prepared for its official launch.


    Naturally, Richard was intrigued. He wanted in.


    FIFA does have ownership rules¡ªprimarily to prevent the same owner from controlling two teams in the same competition. But since MLS teams don¡¯t compete in European tournaments, owning a club in both MLS and Europe, posed no conflict. It was fair game.


    The next morning, Richard said goodbye to Jerry and David, then headed back to the hotel with Adam Lewis.


    After finally catching some well-deserved sleep, he woke in the afternoon, got dressed, and stepped outside.


    A Rolls-Royce Spirit was already waiting at the curb.


    Vince McMahon greeted him with a nod and a handshake. Lewis followed close behind, and the three climbed into the luxury car.


    "You sure you want to do this?" McMahon asked as the car rolled out. "If you back out now, maybe you¡¯ll be fine. But once they¡¯ve got their eyes on you... they¡¯re not going to let go¡ªespecially not when they find out you already own a football club."


    Richard shook his head with a calm smile.


    "Mr. McMahon, this isn¡¯t about the money. It¡¯s about passion. I used to be a footballer, remember? There¡¯s no way I¡¯m walking away from a chance like this," he said confidently.


    A founding member of MLS?


    Well, maybe not officially, but his name would be tied to the league¡¯s beginning. That alone was worth it.


    He made sure to ask McMahon about the current state of MLS¡ªits structure, the challenges it faced, and what to expect, including the key figures to watch out for. Vince, more than happy to share, laid everything out in detail.


    Don Garber, the current MLS commissioner.


    Alan Rothenberg, serving as President of the USSF and helping the U.S. win the 1994 World Cup bid.


    Phil Anschutz: A major businessman and one of the most influential investors currently.


    There are currently the most important figures at the top of MLS right now.


    "How much money does it actually take to build a league from scratch like this?" Richard asked curiously, watching McMahon sip his whiskey.


    McMahon set his glass down casually. Now that Richard had agreed to team up, he was visibly more at ease¡ªlegs crossed, one hand resting on the armrest, the other gently swirling a glass of ice water.


    Truth be told, he hadn¡¯t called Richard just to ask whether investing in the league was a good idea. From the very beginning, he¡¯d been looking to pass the hot potato onto someone else¡ªand Richard, ever the football romantic, had walked right into it.


    McMahon chuckled to himself, hiding it behind his whiskey glass.


    ¡¯These football maniacs,¡¯ he thought. ¡¯They¡¯re absolutely nuts. But hey, who am I to stop a man from chasing his dreams... or his financial ruin?¡¯


    Leaning back, he said, "The initial meetings to discuss the creation of MLS took place in the early ¡¯90s. There were about 22 cities that submitted proposals to host one of the league¡¯s first franchises, and eventually, 10 of those proposals were accepted."


    Columbus Crew ¨C Columbus, Ohio


    D.C. United ¨C Washington, D.C.


    New England Revolution ¨C Foxborough, Massachusetts


    NY/NJ MetroStars ¨C East Rutherford, New Jersey (near New York)


    Tampa Bay Mutiny ¨C Tampa, Florida


    Colorado Rapids ¨C Denver, Colorado


    Dallas Burn ¨C Dallas, Texas


    Kansas City Wizards ¨C Kansas City, Missouri


    Los Angeles Galaxy ¨C Los Angeles, California


    San Jose Clash ¨C San Jose, California


    "I heard it was an ambitious project from the start¡ªthey managed to pool together over $100 million just to get the league off the ground," McMahon continued. "The thing is, the initial investment for the league, including ownership stakes and stadium construction, required contributions from each team. $40 million was needed to launch the first 10 teams, which meant each team had to pay $4 million."


    "Did the league have any revenue streams?" Richard asked.


    McMahon¡¯s face twitched slightly as he recalled some unpleasant memories. He let out a long sigh. "Welcome to America," he said. "Even with all that, every team still had to chip in financially."


    That¡¯s why he himself was very reluctant to get involved in this potential pitfall.


    If Richard could hear what McMahon was thinking, he would likely sneer. Thirty years. That¡¯s the timeframe MLS needs for each team to reach hundreds of millions of dollars, with top franchises potentially exceeding $1 billion.


    A little million in sacrifice seems nothing in front of a billion.


    Soon, they arrived at their destination.


    This was the Hilton Los Angeles, where they would meet with the MLS representatives.


    The sleek black Rolls-Royce pulled up in front of the grand building, its polished glass windows towering over the city and reflecting the late afternoon sun. Richard couldn¡¯t help but feel a surge of anticipation as he gazed up at the imposing structure.


    The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside.


    "Vince, we¡¯re glad you could join us today," Phil Anschutz said as he was the first to rise and greet Vince McMahon with a warm hug before turning to Richard in surprise.


    "This is?" Anschutz asked, eyeing Richard curiously.


    "Another potential investor I¡¯ve picked, of course," McMahon replied, smiling proudly.


    Anschutz¡¯s eyes lit up as he shifted his attention between the two men. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Well, well, welcome! My name is Phil Anschutz, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you."


    Richard smiled and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Anschutz. I¡¯m Richard Maddox."


    "Rover Group?" Anschutz asked suddenly, his expression changing as he scrutinized Richard, having heard the Maddox name before.


    Richard nodded.


    "Haha, so you¡¯re Mr. Richard Maddox! Come, sit down. Let¡¯s get started. I hear they have a delicious tomahawk steak here..."


    Richard thought it was a nice, formal meeting¡ªafter all, this was America. He expected a more direct conversation, but they spent most of the time chatting casually, not even touching on MLS. It wasn¡¯t until they had finished their steaks that the conversation took a more serious turn.


    "Mr. Richard, to be honest, we didn¡¯t expect Vince to bring in a new investor. You¡¯re already familiar with the requirements, aren¡¯t you?"


    Richard was taken aback. "Requirements? What requirements?" he asked, his expression puzzled.


    It was only after the explanation that he began to understand.


    Unlike European football, Major League Soccer operates quite differently here.


    MLS is a single-entity league, meaning the league itself owns all the teams. Investors don¡¯t buy clubs outright; instead, they buy into the league and are granted operating rights to manage a specific team. This gives MLS the authority to approve or reject any potential investor or owner.


    This also means investors needed to agree to MLS¡¯s single-entity structure, which was unique compared to European club ownership. This included agreeing to share revenue, operate under the league¡¯s collective rules, and adhere to league policies.


    Richard nodded, understanding but still curious. "Sir, may I ask about the current projections for MLS? How do you see the league¡¯s profitability moving forward?"


    "Revenue is generated from media rights, sponsorships, and gate receipts. Fox, ESPN, and ABC were some of the first media sponsors when MLS launched, and we¡¯ve seen steady growth in these areas. The better your performance, the better the money allocation for next year, and your salary cap will also increase."


    Richard listened closely, but then something caught his attention. "Salary cap?" he said, surprised to hear that term. ¡¯Isn¡¯t that similar to American football?¡¯


    Indeed, MLS embarked on this remarkable journey with a unique and innovative financial structure at its core¡ªthe salary cap.


    The salary cap, a pioneering concept adapted from American football, marked a ground-breaking addition to the world of soccer. It emerged as the ultimate equalizer, effectively levelling the playing field and ensuring that teams with limited financial resources could still stand shoulder to shoulder with their big-spending counterparts.


    "The MLS salary cap is a system that limits how much a team can spend on player salaries. This is designed to maintain competitive balance across all teams and prevent any one team from dominating the league financially by outspending the others." Rothenberg explained.


    This ingenious structure did more than just create a sense of parity; it played a pivotal role in helping the league maintain fiscal responsibility, a factor of paramount importance in ensuring its survival during the crucial formative years later.


    "So, that¡¯s how it is," Richard nodded.


    "But," Rothenberg added quickly, "players who are developed through a team¡¯s youth academy are often exempt from the salary cap, which allows teams to invest in developing their own talent without the salary limitations. Also, each teams must also meet a minimum salary cap floor, ensuring that the minimum amount spent on player salaries doesn¡¯t fall too low."


    Richard wasn¡¯t too concerned about it, honestly. His goal here was to invest his money and let it grow over the next thirty years before enjoying the returns. Of course, if he had the opportunity to accelerate the value, he wouldn¡¯t hesitate. After all, America loves opportunity. And money.


    Initially, the goal for today was to pull McMahon into the proposal and convince him to invest in a new team based in Los Angeles.


    But McMahon was reluctant, which allowed Richard to engage freely and learn many things he hadn¡¯t known before about MLS.


    The franchise fee to enter MLS was around $10 million per team. This amount covered the costs of securing the rights to own and operate a team, including expenses for marketing, infrastructure, and salaries.


    This meant a total of $14 million¡ªthe franchise fee plus an initial investment of $4 million. Anschutz Entertainment Group would hold about 80% of the shares, leaving 20% for Richard and McMahon.


    Richard briefly skimmed through the current proposal for all the team.


    It still had no name, and its value was relatively low, currently estimated at around $10 million per club.


    This valuation reflected not only the initial franchise fee but also the challenges of building a fan base and generating revenue in a country where soccer wasn¡¯t as entrenched as it was in Europe.


    "That¡¯s fine, though," Richard said suddenly. "I¡¯ll invest $2 million, as long as I¡¯m allowed to invest in the new club in Los Angeles."


    Given that MLS was still in its infancy, investor reputation was crucial. Existing investors needed to be sure that newcomers would be trustworthy, aligned with the league¡¯s vision, and committed to supporting its long-term growth.


    This was the purpose behind approval from the existing investors.


    The proposal on the table was for Anschutz Entertainment Group to hold 80%, while McMahon and Richard would each own 10%.


    "You understand that by agreeing to this, you¡¯ll be sharing in the league¡¯s revenues and financial risks, right?"


    Richard nodded.


    From that moment on, Richard officially became a key player in the development of American soccer, positioning himself as a foundational figure in the creation of LA Galaxy (later).


    ¡¯Establishing a strong fanbase in one of the largest and most diverse cities in the world,¡¯ Richard thought to himself. "This is the first step for Manchester City as I¡¯ve already entered the U.S."


    Although the soccer community here was still in its early stages, the 1994 World Cup had ignited a surge of interest in the sport.


    Los Angeles, in particular, stood out.


    As a global entertainment hub, LA was the ideal market for a future Manchester City to build a worldwide fanbase. Richard could leverage the city¡¯s entertainment industry to attract new fans, secure high-profile endorsements, and land valuable sponsorships, which would help accelerate the growth of Manchester City.


    Additionally, fostering a relationship with Hollywood could significantly boost the club¡¯s profile, drawing in new fans and sponsors, while benefiting him both financially and reputationally.


    "There are still Asia, Australia, and Africa too..." Richard mumbled to himself.

 Chapter 113: Prelude to the Chaotic Wimbledon Match

    Chapter 113: Prelude to the Chaotic Wimbledon MatchIt had been a few days, and Richard was mostly spending his time either at the hotel or visiting the trailer of future Yahoo and Hilton to discuss his investment in LA Galaxy.


    The verbal agreement with Richard had already been finalized the previous day. Today, he brought along Adam Lewis to finalize the legal aspects of the deal.


    All the founding members had already given their approval, acknowledging Richard¡¯s proposal and his involvement with LA Galaxy.


    Of course, since he only held 10% of the shares, the club still remained under the control of Anschutz Entertainment Group.


    But Richard didn¡¯t mind. He already knew that, for at least the next ten years, MLS would run at a loss. Well, at least not until David Beckham arrived.


    By then, MLS would have grown from a struggling league into one of the most promising soccer leagues in North America, attracting international players and high-profile coaches. The inclusion of world-renowned stars like Thierry Henry, Zlatan Ibrahimovi?, and Carlos Vela would help elevate its status.


    Back in the present, the franchise fee to enter MLS was around $10 million per team.


    Since the league was still in its early planning stages¡ªsetting up its structure, securing ownership groups, and outlining operations¡ªit would take at least another year or two before officially kicking off.


    "We¡¯re learning from the past," said Lamar Hunt, one of MLS¡¯s key financial backers, during the meeting.


    This was Richard¡¯s first time meeting him in person.


    "The North American Soccer League folded in 1984," Hunt continued. "We can¡¯t afford to repeat their mistakes."


    Richard nodded, flipping through the briefing documents, which included a detailed history of the NASL.


    That league had operated from 1968 to 1984 and enjoyed a brief boom in the late ¡¯70s, with legends like Pel¨¦, Franz Beckenbauer, and Johan Cruyff drawing global attention. But over-expansion and unsustainable spending had led to its swift collapse.


    It reminded Richard of Manchester City under Francis Lee¡¯s management¡ªfew trophies, reckless spending, and little return on investment.


    "That¡¯s why we¡¯ll operate under a single-entity structure," Phil Anschutz added. "And implement a salary cap to keep things sustainable."


    Richard frowned at this. Now he understood why MLS would bleed money in its early years. No superstar players, low salary caps, limited international signings, and centralized control over all contracts? It was hardly enticing for talent.


    "What about stadiums? Are we investing in our own venues right away? That would be a huge cost," someone asked.


    It¡¯s going to take time¡ªand everyone here is a businessman. Naturally, they want to observe the situation first before jumping in. Don¡¯t forget, soccer is going to be a tough sell in the U.S., especially when it¡¯s up against giants like the NFL and NBA.


    "No," another executive replied. "I¡¯ve spoken with the General National Football Foundation. We¡¯ll borrow NFL stadiums first¡ªit¡¯s the safest route for now."


    At the end of the day, the investors weren¡¯t taking bold risks. After all, the creation of MLS wasn¡¯t because of expected profits¡ªit was to honor FIFA¡¯s condition for awarding the World Cup: the U.S. had to create a permanent, top-level professional soccer league.


    The next item on the agenda was player recruitment. Currently, there was no established national player pool. They didn¡¯t want one team hoarding all the stars like the Cosmos did in the NASL, nor did they want unsustainable spending¡ªPel¨¦¡¯s signing in 1975 had been iconic, but also enormously expensive.


    So MLS planned to create a system for fair talent distribution, and required each club to operate youth academies. There was, after all, no real development pipeline for American talent yet.


    The meeting to set up the league lasted more than four hours, and Richard didn¡¯t stay for all of it.


    In his mind, there was no need¡ªwhat he really wanted to know was how the league would be structured. That way, in the future, when MLS started generating profits, he could possibly establish his own club¡ªjust like David Beckham did with Inter Miami.


    Richard was busy, and so was Manchester City¡ªespecially John Maddock, who had flown to France to meet with AS Cannes.


    Meanwhile, O¡¯Neill was also dealing with a series of challenges and responsibilities himself as the current manager of Manchester City.


    "...This isn¡¯t going to be easy," O¡¯Neill muttered.


    "Wouldn¡¯t it be better to play the younger ones? We¡¯re going to need physicality for the next match," Robertson, his assistant, asked with concern.


    Their next opponent?


    The Crazy Gang¡ªWimbledon.


    Indeed, they needed more than just skill to face them. Just as Leeds United fans had earned a reputation for extreme racism, Wimbledon were infamous for their bruising, no-nonsense, almost boxing-style approach to football¡ªbrutal, aggressive, and unapologetically physical.


    O¡¯Neill felt a headache coming on just thinking about it. He could already foresee another injury happening to one of his players.


    As the year drew to a close, the weather naturally turned colder. But what surprised them most was that the players getting injured weren¡¯t the foreign ones unfamiliar with the English winter. No¡ªit was the homegrown lads, the ones supposedly used to this kind of climate.


    With the injuries piling up, the team now leaned heavily on their full-backs and strikers to break down opponents. O¡¯Neill was placing his faith in their creativity and the tactical freedom they¡¯d been given to make things happen on the pitch.


    Rebuilding the team during the winter break was always going to be a risk. Only minor tweaks could be made, and at this point, all they could do was experiment with the players still available.


    Currently, City had to rely on the few midfielders who were still fit: Mike Phelan, Jamie Pollock, Jeff Whitley, Keith Gillespie, and Graham Fenton.


    On the other hand, the injury list was a grim sight¡ªIan Taylor, Tony Grant, Steve Lomas, Ian Ferguson, and Paul Lake were all sidelined.


    "Why did it have to be them getting injured at a time like this?" Robertson sighed, glancing over at O¡¯Neill, who was frowning at the tactical board.


    "What¡¯s the update from the physio team?" O¡¯Neill asked.


    Robertson shook his head. "At least two weeks¡ªminimum¡ªbefore any of them can play properly again."


    "Then there¡¯s no use complaining," O¡¯Neill muttered. "They won¡¯t be back anytime soon."


    He and his staff had pinned high hopes on the loanees Ian Taylor and Tony Grant. But both had gone down with untimely injuries just before the year ended, throwing their plans into disarray.


    If only they had a complete central midfielder¡ªsomeone who could sit deep as a playmaker, hold the line defensively, or even go box-to-box. Right now, that kind of versatility felt like a distant luxury.


    "Then let¡¯s go with two defensive midfielders in the next match. Keith Curle and Mike Phelan will anchor the back, and Jamie Pollock will partner them this time." O¡¯Neill said finally.


    Up to this point, both Curle and Phelan had logged only around 300 minutes in midfield. One was known for his precise passing, the other for his sharp ability to read the game.


    "We caught them off guard," O¡¯Neill explained. "We played long balls from deep at the back. As long as we can snatch one or two goals in the first half, then we sit back and defend in the second. That¡¯s the strategy."


    However, reality often turns out quite different from what you plan.


    Deviation.


    A tactical shift that¡¯s hard to predict doesn¡¯t automatically lead to victory.


    If the opposing team can¡¯t read it, that usually means it¡¯s never been used before in an actual match. In other words, it¡¯s unfamiliar and untested¡ªnot just for them, but for them as well.


    If the players on our side can¡¯t coordinate or adapt to the change, it could easily backfire¡ªwith disastrous consequences.


    Everyone was watching: the players on the pitch, both benches, the home supporters, and the away fans. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At the end of December 30th, Manchester City were set to face the notorious Crazy Gang¡ªWimbledon¡ªat Maine Road for their 18th league match. O¡¯Neill was eager to see how his recent tactical adjustments would hold up in a real test. More than anything, he needed a win to validate and reinforce his new approach.


    "Wimbledon is a very dangerous team," O¡¯Neill said as he addressed the players in the dressing room after their warm-up. "But this will be a great test of everything we¡¯ve worked on over the past week."


    He paced slowly in front of them, eyes sharp with focus. "Just a few things I want to see out there¡ªbe fast, be simple, be direct, and above all, be productive. That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking. Go on, lads. Let¡¯s do this."


    After the briefing, the players clapped, stood up, and headed out to the pitch with determination in their steps.


    Meanwhile, across the Atlantic in the U.S., Richard was just settling in and tuning into the radio broadcast. Since Second Division matches weren¡¯t televised, radio was his only way to follow the game.


    "Welcome! You¡¯re listening to coverage of the FA Cup¡¯s fourth round¡ªa classic David versus Goliath clash between Second Division Manchester City and Premier League side Wimbledon!"


    Moments later, a shout rang through the radio.


    "Oh no! Phelan loses the ball¡ªwhat a costly mistake! Clark seizes the opportunity... but Curle steps in with a crucial challenge! Wait¡ªhe¡¯s down! Curle is writhing in pain on the pitch! That has to be a card¡ªhe was scissored from behind by Barton!"


    "And..."


    "That¡¯s it¡ªWarren Barton gets a yellow card and a warning!"

 Chapter 114: Wimbledon, the

    Chapter 114: Wimbledon, the "Thugs"Facing Wimbledon¡¯s rough style of play, O¡¯Neill finally erupted¡ªfurious that Warren Barton had injured Curle within the first minute of the game.


    He shouted at the notorious hardman, "You¡¯re going nowhere with this football career! Go act in movies or fight Mike Tyson instead!"


    His outburst quickly made him a target for attention¡ªnot because he was wrong about Wimbledon¡¯s physicality, but because his anger wasn¡¯t directed solely at them. Because this time, O¡¯Neill pointed his finger at the referee.


    Of course, current Wimbledon manager Joe Kinnear¡ªnever one to back down from a verbal scrap¡ªhad clearly caught wind of O¡¯Neill¡¯s outburst.


    "You¡¯ve got some nerve!" Kinnear bellowed across the narrow gap between the dugouts, loud enough for half the crowd near the sideline to hear. "You¡¯re acting like this is ballet out here! It¡¯s football¡ªfootball! What did you expect, a hug and a handshake?"


    "Bloody mugging! Curle didn¡¯t even get a chance to touch the ball before Barton went in studs-up! It¡¯s reckless, and you know it!" O¡¯Neill turned sharply, his coat flapping as he stepped forward, pointing accusingly toward the pitch.


    "Oh, come off it! If your lad can¡¯t handle a challenge, maybe he should be the one looking at acting school! You don¡¯t complain when your lot dish it out, do you?"


    "Don¡¯t compare us to this circus you¡¯re running. There¡¯s a difference between hard football and flat-out thuggery!"


    "Oh please¡ª" Kinnear fired back, his voice rising.


    The fourth official moved quickly between the two, arms stretched wide as both managers shouted over his head. Linesmen were already glancing over nervously, and a few substitutes from both benches had stood up, sensing things were boiling over.


    The referee, having had enough, jogged over and gave both managers a stern warning, threatening to send them to the stands if they didn¡¯t calm down.


    O¡¯Neill backed away with a frustrated grunt, still muttering under his breath. Kinnear, smirking, turned and sauntered back to his bench like a man who¡¯d just won round one.


    The crowd buzzed with energy. Even the players on the field seemed to feed off the tension brewing on the sidelines.


    "What the hell! Whitley, why are you still here? Didn¡¯t I tell you to warm up?"


    Jeff Whitley was baffled¡ªwhen had the manager asked him to warm up? But he knew now was clearly not the time to argue with the agitated O¡¯Neill. He hurriedly took off his jacket and jumped off the substitutes¡¯ bench.


    The substitution on City¡¯s bench hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed by Joe Kinnear. He squinted toward the touchline, eyeing the unfamiliar figure warming up.


    "Mick, who¡¯s that player getting ready to come on?" he asked his assistant.


    Mick took a moment, then replied, "Jeff Whitley¡ªjust got promoted from the reserves team."


    Kinnear chuckled. "Looks like they¡¯ve thrown in the towel." He turned back toward his bench and barked, "Press high! All-out attack! Tear their defense apart from middle!"


    Wimbledon United wanted to go all out attack, and this was exactly what O¡¯Neill wanted.


    Facing the overall ethos of English football¡ªespecially Wimbledon, a club famous for its rough play¡ªsuch tactical fouls could create immense psychological pressure on opponent teams, seizing momentum in the game.


    That¡¯s why they usually play man-to-man marking, focusing on who¡¯s in possession of the ball and taking them out. The people here could hardly criticize such practices. While Wimbledon had some blame, they were actually somewhat innocent, as they weren¡¯t the original practitioners of such tactics.


    These had become common in the 1980s, when early fouls were often used strategically to intimidate opponents. Still, it was Wimbledon¡¯s unapologetic execution of this style that boiled his blood.


    If Kinnear hadn¡¯t had the boldness to let his team attack, O¡¯Neill might have found his plan difficult. But if they all-out attacked, it meant their defenders would also press high, stretching the distance between the center-backs and the goalkeeper


    O¡¯Neill motioned for Whitley, who was ready to come on to replace Curle. "Tell Ole to stay up front. Campbell and Cox should hold their positions¡ªno pushing forward. "


    Jeff Whitley nodded.


    PHWEEE!


    "And here comes a substitution for Manchester City¡ªKeith Curle makes way, and it¡¯s the young Jeff Whitley stepping onto the pitch. Let¡¯s see how the youngster settles into this intense match."


    The cheers of Wimbledon fans echoed through Selhurst Park Stadium¡ªironically, the home of Crystal Palace.


    Wimbledon¡¯s original ground, Plough Lane, had been deemed outdated and unfit for modern football standards, especially after new regulations required all-seater stadiums in the wake of the Hillsborough disaster. Unable to afford the costly renovations needed to upgrade Plough Lane, Wimbledon entered into a ground-sharing agreement with Crystal Palace, making Selhurst Park their temporary home.


    Wimbledon¡¯s attacks came in waves, with the ball spending most of its time in Manchester City¡¯s half.


    On the sidelines, Joe Kinnear was a flurry of movement, waving his arms and barking out attacking instructions, determined to seize the initiative and overwhelm City.


    In stark contrast, O¡¯Neill stood calmly with his hands in his pockets, showing no sign of impatience. To him, the match wasn¡¯t as one-sided as it appeared.


    Wimbledon played a traditional 4-4-2 formation, initiating their attacks from the midfield and defense, always sending a long ball forward to search for their forwards.


    It was a traditional approach¡ªone of the most common in English football¡ªand coincidentally, O¡¯Neill had employed the same formation.


    Though many critics considered the English 4-4-2 rigid and outdated, Richard didn¡¯t agree. That¡¯s why he had chosen O¡¯Neill, a manager who had found success with the 4-4-2 setup even during his time at Wycombe.


    Because footballers aren¡¯t static¡ªonce the whistle blows, they don¡¯t just stand in fixed positions. The beauty of 4-4-2 lies in its flexibility. Offensively and defensively, it can morph into several variations depending on movement and roles.


    For instance, with one central midfielder pushing up and the other sitting deep, the midfield takes the shape of a diamond. If the wide midfielders drift inward, it creates a narrow formation that allows full-backs to overlap and support the attack.


    The forwards can drop back while wingers push up, transitioning into shapes like 4-2-3-1, 4-1-4-1, or even 4-3-3. In short, 4-4-2 is far from rigid¡ªit¡¯s a fluid system with endless possibilities.


    Judging a team¡¯s tactics purely by its starting formation is a shallow view. In Italy, where tactical sophistication is almost an art form, teams often switch formations multiple times during a single match. It¡¯s this constant evolution that makes football tactics so fascinating.


    "Oh no! Phelan loses the ball¡ªwhat a costly mistake! Clark seizes the opportunity... but¡ªwhat a save from Shay Given!"


    But the danger wasn¡¯t over. The rebound fell kindly for Earle¡ªhe hit it first time¡ªblocked! The City defense threw their bodies in the way.


    The commentator nearly jumped out of his seat.


    "Absolute chaos in the box! It¡¯s pinball in there¡ªbut somehow, somehow, third-tier Manchester City survive Wimbledon¡¯s onslaught! Incredible determination¡ªthis is football at its most frantic!" he shouted, fully caught in the adrenaline of the moment.


    Wimbledon¡¯s Kinnear anxiously yelled from the sidelines.


    His team seemed to be attacking relentlessly, but every time they attempted to deliver the ball to the forwards from the back or the flanks, their two strikers found themselves physically blocked by Campbell and Ian Cox.


    After failing to score despite numerous attempts, Kinnear couldn¡¯t help but grow increasingly anxious.


    One of the most common features of high-tempo football matches is that if a team fails to convert numerous chances, they are likely to concede sooner or later.


    His coaching experience was considerable, especially in England, and it was not uncommon for top teams to get caught out by lower-tier sides in competitions like the FA Cup or League Cup.


    Definitely, definitely, as a Premier League team, Wimbledon knew they could not afford to concede first against a second-division side.


    He knew all too well that once a team concedes, the opposition usually parks the bus!


    On the field, Wimbledon attempted another cross from the flanks. Their right midfielder managed to send a diagonal long pass into City¡¯s penalty area just before Campbell could close in for a challenge.


    The trajectory of the ball was promising, landing right around the penalty spot¡ªa perfect opportunity for the strikers to dart in and head it.


    Wimbledon¡¯s two forwards indeed dashed towards the landing spot of the ball, and the fans held their breath, nervously watching this attack unfold. They began to rise from their seats, tense with anticipation.


    Thankfully, Shay Given, who had already seen the danger, reacted quickly. With a swift move, he punched the ball out of the danger zone, sending it soaring toward Cafu¡¯s feet.


    After collecting the ball, Cafu turned sharply.


    The opposing central midfielder was too far forward, attempting to pressure him, but Cafu effortlessly faked a move and passed it to Phelan, who had already scanned the field and saw the opportunity. With a quick flick, Phelan sent a long ball forward.


    The crowd, initially silent, erupted in applause as City launched a blistering counterattack. The momentum had shifted in an instant.


    Cafu didn¡¯t waste time dribbling but instead made a precise diagonal pass to Jeff Whitley, standing near the center circle.


    From the sidelines, Kinnear¡¯s anxiety was palpable. He watched with growing concern as City¡¯s attack moved seamlessly, and his heart tightened. Without hesitation, he barked commands, urging his players to focus and track back.


    Whitley, sensing the moment, carried the ball forward with purpose, his mind racing with possibilities. He seemed to channel a bit of Maradona, dodging a challenge before passing to Roberto Carlos, who was drifting in from the left.


    Roberto Carlos, having already made an overlapping run, found himself in the wide area just past the halfway line. He paused for the briefest moment¡ªa flicker of hesitation over whether to take on the defenders himself or deliver a cross.


    Then he noticed a raised hand¡ªRonaldo, signaling and already preparing to make his run. The defender assigned to mark him was too fixated on the ball at his feet to notice.


    Choosing not to rush, Roberto Carlos maintained his position on the left sideline. Without hesitation, he executed a precise through ball, threading it perfectly between the center-back and the full-back.


    Ronaldo was already on the move, anticipating Roberto¡¯s pass. The Brazilian chemistry was in full display!


    Though the pass had moderate speed, its accuracy was flawless. The exact moment Roberto played the ball, Ronaldo surged forward, evading the attention of Wimbledon¡¯s left-back.


    Wimbledon, having spent nearly 70 minutes attacking and pressuring City, were completely unprepared for this sudden breach. What caught them even more off guard was Ronaldo¡¯s blistering speed!


    The center-back, deciding to ignore Solskj?r, tried to chase down Ronaldo, but no matter how hard he pushed, the distance between them only grew wider. He even had no chance of grabbing hold of Ronaldo¡¯s jersey.


    Ronaldo expertly timed his run, positioning himself one-on-one with the goalkeeper.


    The entire crowd stood as one, their collective gaze fixed on Ronaldo as he surged toward the goal. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Watching the attack unfold from the sidelines, O¡¯Neill¡¯s heart raced with exhilaration. His calm exterior cracked, replaced by pure anticipation.


    Even Richard, holding his radio, whispered under his breath, "Put it in the net, put it in the net, put it in the net!"


    The fifth round of the FA Cup!


    A victory here would take them to the sixth round, and just one more win would see them through to the semi-finals¡ªan incredible achievement for the new Manchester City!


    As Ronaldo neared the edge of the penalty area, he subtly slowed his stride, scanning the goalkeeper¡¯s position. Dropping his shoulder slightly, he feinted as if about to unleash a thunderous right-footed shot.


    The goalkeeper took the bait. Instinctively, he launched into a full-stretch dive, limbs splayed like a spider, hoping to block what he thought was a certain strike.


    But this was Ronaldo Lu¨ªs Naz¨¢rio de Lima¡ªthe future legendary R9.


    With the effortless grace that defined his greatness, Ronaldo coolly nudged the ball to his left, slipping past the diving keeper without breaking stride.


    The fake worked to perfection, leaving the goalkeeper sprawled helplessly on the turf. One defender was scrambling back in panic behind him, desperate to cover the open goal, but Ronaldo kept his balance and composure.


    He took one more controlled touch, angled his body, and calmly slotted the ball into the empty net¡ªno power needed, just precision.


    No panic. No wasted motion.


    Just pure brilliance, sending the south section of Selhurst Park into ecstatic uproar!

 Chapter 115: Double Red Card!

    Chapter 115: Double Red Card!Fans in the stands threw their arms up in jubilant delight, leaping and cheering with childlike exuberance.


    After slotting the ball home, Ronaldo sprinted along the byline toward the corner flag, igniting a wave of celebration among the nearby supporters.


    "Ro~nal~do!"


    "Booh~"


    A roar of approval rang out¡ªmixed with a chorus of boos from the opposing side.


    The two sets of fans clashed in a battle of noise¡ªchants, cheers, and jeers echoing around the stadium. And though City¡¯s supporters were vastly outnumbered, their voices rose with pride, refusing to be drowned out by the Wimbledon faithful.


    After conceding the goal, Wimbledon grew more aggressive. True to their identity, they kept relying on long balls, but their forwards looked noticeably disheartened.


    Every attempt to challenge in the air was shut down by the imposing figure of Campbell, whose experience and physical presence proved too much. On the flanks, Cafu and Roberto Carlos were relentless, blocking every route and forcing turnovers.


    Wimbledon were well-known for their physical challenges¡ªit was their trademark. That aggressive style worked well when trying to win back possession. But once the ball was at their feet, things changed.


    When it came to technical play, they were noticeably lacking. Truth be told, their main attacking plan relied almost entirely on the height and strength of their strikers to create goal-scoring chances.


    Once again, Wimbledon¡¯s Nigerian star Efan Ekoku, positioned on the left flank, shaped up to deliver a cross. But Ian Cox read the move perfectly.


    With a well-timed stretch of his leg, he intercepted the ball and sent Ekoku tumbling onto the turf. The ball trickled to Campbell¡¯s feet, who calmly passed it to Cafu.


    Ekoku, was livid. "What the hell! That was an obvious foul! Damn it, a foul!" he bellowed toward the pitch. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    But the referee was unmoved. No whistle. No foul. No card.


    The crowd erupted¡ªnot in protest, but in raucous applause. Even some Wimbledon fans couldn¡¯t help but join in.


    What was football to them? Tactics? Rules?


    To them, football was a mix of booting the ball... and booting legs.


    Cafu wasted no time. He skipped dribbling altogether and passed it swiftly to Phelan, who, sensing the urgency, released it just before an onrushing forward could close him down.


    The ball reached Ronaldo at midfield. Without delay, he launched a long ball forward that dropped beautifully at Solskj?r¡¯s feet.


    Solskj?r surged ahead toward the center. Just five meters away, Wimbledon¡¯s defenders began to collapse on him, trying to block a possible long-range strike. But instead, with flawless precision, Solskj?r split the defense with a through ball, threading it between the center-back and the left full-back.


    "Oh! Roberto Carlos is already on the run¡ªhe¡¯s winding up for a cross¡ªNo, wait! That¡¯s not a cross! That¡¯s a shot! What a strike from Roberto Carlos! It¡¯s 2¨C0 to Manchester City!"


    Indeed, just as the ball reached the edge of the box, Roberto Carlos had already wound up his legendary left foot. The Wimbledon goalkeeper launched himself toward the near post, expecting a traditional delivery.


    But the ball wasn¡¯t aimed for anyone.


    It was aimed for glory.


    With the force of a cannon, Roberto Carlos unleashed a howitzer of a shot that curved wickedly through the air. The keeper, mid-dive, glanced back helplessly.


    Too late.


    The ball soared past his fingertips and curled into the far corner of the net, spinning gently to a stop inside the goal.


    Selhurst Park shook with the noise of City¡¯s small section going wild. Wimbledon stunned. Roberto Carlos¡ªunstoppable.


    After City¡¯s second goal hit the back of the net, the entire away end erupted. Near the corner flag, supporters surged forward in celebration, many nearly spilling over the barrier as they tried to get closer to Roberto Carlos¡ªthe man of the moment.


    Thankfully, the security fence held firm.


    On the touchline, Robertson turned to a beaming O¡¯Neill and shouted over the noise, "Did you see that?!"


    O¡¯Neill laughed, eyes wide. "Of course I did! That left foot of his¡ªit¡¯s magic!"


    No wonder Richard had asked them to arrange special shooting and free-kick training sessions for him¡ªnow everyone could see exactly why.


    The two exchanged a grin before turning back to the pitch, clapping and shouting to rally the players. City now had one foot in the next round. In this FA Cup fifth-round clash, they were already two goals up.


    As the game resumed, both managers made substitutions at the same time.


    O¡¯Neill, looking to secure the lead, brought off Ronaldo for center-back Nick Fenton and swapped Phelan for the more defensive Richard Jobson. Meanwhile, Wimbledon showed their hand¡ªthey pulled a midfielder and threw on an extra striker. It was clear: they were going all in.


    The commentator shouted, "It¡¯s do-or-die now for Wimbledon¡ªwait, what¡¯s happened?!"


    O¡¯Neill, mid-instruction with his two incoming players, turned sharply toward the City goal with a look of disbelief.


    Red card!


    Ian Cox has just been sent off, and Wimbledon have been awarded a penalty!


    O¡¯Neill knew that a coach¡¯s perspective from the sidelines could often reveal more than a TV broadcast¡ªbut not always the most breathtaking moments.


    So what had just happened?


    He hadn¡¯t even had a chance to ask Robertson when Kinnear, visibly furious, stormed toward him, only to be restrained by the official.


    "What¡¯s your player doing? What the hell does he think he¡¯s doing¡ªattempting murder?!"


    O¡¯Neill was taken aback. It wasn¡¯t until he spoke with McLaren and the others that he and Robertson finally pieced together the full sequence of events.


    Ian Cox had just received the ball near City¡¯s defensive third when Wimbledon¡¯s Efan Ekoku charged in to press.


    The tension had been simmering for a while, but it flared instantly. Ekoku was aggressive, leaning in with elbows and hands, and Cox, clearly irritated by the physicality, shoved him away with both arms.


    The referee blew his whistle sharply¡ªfoul, but no card. Just a warning, as players from both sides rushed in to separate them.


    But it was a sign of things to come.


    What Ian Cox did next was completely unnecessary. A free-kick was awarded to Wimbledon, and that¡¯s when the chaos truly began.


    For the third time in a row, Ian Cox was at the center of the commotion.


    Wimbledon were pushing everyone forward¡ªincluding their full-backs and center-backs. Campbell and Cox were no longer calmly anchoring the backline; they were firefighting, scrambling desperately to plug gaps and stop aerial threats.


    Another attack surged down Wimbledon¡¯s left flank.


    Ekoku swung in a dangerous cross, and the penalty area became a tangled mess of bodies.


    Cox locked eyes with Warren Barton, the Wimbledon defender charging in. Both men hurled themselves toward the ball. It resembled a wrestling match more than football¡ªpulling, elbowing, and jostling for every inch of space.


    He leapt into the air to meet the cross but mistimed his jump. He collided mid-air with Barton, their heads crashing together with a sickening thud. As they dropped to the ground, Cox instinctively wrapped his arms around Barton in a bear hug, preventing him from regaining balance.


    "Oi! Get off me!" Barton roared, struggling to break free, fists clenched and face red with fury.


    "Make me!" Cox snarled, nose-to-nose now, breath ragged, eyes blazing.


    "You n*gger son of a bitch!" Barton snapped, landing a punch to Cox¡¯s face and pulling him to the ground.


    That was the tipping point.


    "You say that again?" Cox barked, stepping in close. "Say it again to my face!"


    Campbell, nearby, rushed in to restrain the furious Cox, stopping him from lashing out with fists or kicks.


    PHWEEE!


    The referee¡¯s shrill whistle pierced the tension. Players from both Manchester City and Wimbledon, momentarily stunned, rushed toward the scene.


    "Oi! Cut it out!"


    Pandemonium erupted.


    Players poured in like a dam had burst. Campbell stepped between them, trying to separate Cox, while Wimbledon¡¯s Alan Reeves and Andy Clarke dragged Barton away from the melee.


    But Cox wasn¡¯t done¡ªhe broke free and stormed toward Barton, ignoring the referee, the chaos, and even his own teammates.


    "What the hell did you just say?!" he shouted, voice slicing through the noise.


    The referee didn¡¯t hesitate.


    The red card flashed toward Cox¡ªno surprise, as from the official¡¯s point of view, Cox had thrown the first punch and was also at the center of the chaos.


    Barton was satisfied, thinking he¡¯d gotten away with it. He turned away from the scuffle, brushing off his shirt as if nothing had happened. But just as he spun around, the referee was already striding toward him, eyes locked with purpose.


    And then¡ªsnap¡ªthe yellow card first before the red card was raised.


    Barton froze, stunned. "What?! I didn¡¯t do anything!" he blurted, throwing his arms out in disbelief.


    His face twisted in confusion and outrage as he tried to plead his case, but the decision had been made. The referee wasn¡¯t interested in excuses¡ªhe had seen enough.


    Loud jeers and wild applause erupted from the Selhurst Park stands, the crowd feeding off the storm of drama playing out on the pitch.


    By the time they all pieced together the events, Ian Cox had already stormed off the pitch, fury in every stride. As he neared the touchline, O¡¯Neill and his staff moved quickly to intercept him, hoping to calm him down.


    "Ian, just¡ªcalm down! What happened?" Robertson urged, reaching out.


    But Cox brushed their hands away, his face flushed with rage as he paced furiously near the dugout, punching the air and muttering curses under his breath.


    "Let him be," O¡¯Neill said quietly, glancing at Robertson. "He¡¯s not hearing anyone right now."


    All they had seen was the brawl between Cox and Barton¡ªthey didn¡¯t know exactly what had happened.


    It was the 90th minute when Wimbledon was awarded a penalty.


    After a tense moment, they converted it, bringing the score to 2¨C1.


    Selhurst Park finally erupted¡ªnearly every section roared with renewed hope and adrenaline.


    "Come on, come on!" one of Wimbledon¡¯s players shouted, pumping his fists toward the stands as he sprinted back toward the center circle.


    Wimbledon were throwing absolutely everything forward now¡ªeven their goalkeeper had crept out near the halfway line, waiting for a possible final set-piece.


    City, meanwhile, scrambled to stay organized. O¡¯Neill, arms crossed tightly, looked tense as he barked at his backline: "Hold your shape! No fouls!"


    The final moments were going to be a storm¡ªone last desperate surge to decide the fate of the match.


    In a subsequent final attack, Ekoku once again received a pass and should have chosen to pass it to a better positioned Reeves to let the latter make the breakthrough. Instead, after he took a few steps, he kicked a very demoralizing booter.


    Since it was already the final minutes, and tensions had boiled over, the City fans in the stands couldn¡¯t help but get cheeky.


    With grins on their faces and mischief in their voices, they burst into a lively chant: "Wimbledon¡¯s an excellent American football club! They boot the ball straight into the sky! Oh yeah, oh yeah¡ª They¡¯re just here to kick, not to try!"


    O¡¯Neill glanced at his watch before pumping a clenched fist into the air. "Yes! That¡¯s it!"


    FWEEE!!


    The final whistle blew.


    Manchester City had done it¡ªthey had just secured victory in the FA Cup fifth round!

 Chapter 116: Personal Connections to Seal the Deal

    Chapter 116: Personal Connections to Seal the DealRichard, listening to the match broadcast from across the Atlantic, frowned deeply as the commentator described the final minutes.


    "A brawl?"


    He paused, thoughts swirling. Something didn¡¯t sit right.


    He quickly searched for an image of Warren Barton.


    As the photo loaded on screen, Richard¡¯s frowned more. A few scenarios formed in his mind, but one rose to the top.


    He didn¡¯t waste time¡ªhe called coach McLaren immediately.


    "A sudden brawl? Were there any signs the two had clashed before?"


    A pause.


    "No? Alright, I understand. Thanks for the information."


    After ending the call, Richard rubbed his chin, staring at nothing in particular. The pieces were slowly clicking together. He didn¡¯t know exactly what had happened, but if Cox¡ªnormally level-headed and quiet¡ªhad exploded like that, something serious must¡¯ve triggered it.


    The top possibility in his mind?


    Barton had said something or something like that. And what, in that era, could hit harder than a racist slur?


    The fact that Cox refused to talk about it spoke volumes.


    Different Era, Different Culture.


    In the football world of the past¡ªespecially during the 1990s¡ªracism was often ignored, tolerated, or swept under the rug by officials, clubs, and even the media.


    Players were expected to "get on with it," particularly if they were young, new to the league, or from lower-tier clubs like theirs.


    There were no formal anti-racism protocols like today¡¯s UEFA three-step procedure, which allows referees to pause or abandon a match in response to racist abuse. There was no VAR, and no network of microphones or cameras capturing every interaction.


    That made acknowledging or proving such abuse incredibly difficult. Players didn¡¯t have social media either¡ªno platform to share their side or rally public support. Unless the press picked up the story¡ªand many didn¡¯t¡ªthe incident often went unnoticed and unaddressed.


    Richard couldn¡¯t say for certain what Barton had said. But the silence from Ian Cox said a lot. Maybe that silence was all he needed to know.


    And sadly, it wouldn¡¯t be the first time.


    Legends like John Barnes, Cyrille Regis, and Paul Ince had all spoken about enduring monkey chants, racial slurs, and even having bananas thrown at them. And time and time again, they were told to ignore it and just keep playing.


    And what about Vinicius Jr. in the future? Hah!


    For now, did anyone ever fight back?


    Occasionally, yes¡ªsome players did lash out or confront their abusers directly. But more often than not, it was the victim who ended up paying the price. Referees didn¡¯t always understand the context¡ªor worse, chose to ignore it.


    Richard leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.


    "Forget it. Let O¡¯Neill handle it," he muttered to himself.


    The fifth-round FA Cup victory had put Manchester City in a jubilant mood. It was their first time reaching the sixth round in five years, and the prospect of advancing to the semi-finals¡ªsomething they hadn¡¯t achieved in over a decade¡ªwas enough to ignite hope throughout the club.


    But their celebrations were quickly overshadowed by a wave of complications.


    Captain Keith Curle suffered a knock late in the match, and the medical team feared it could keep him sidelined for months.


    To make matters worse, defender Ian Cox found himself at the center of controversy after an on-pitch altercation drew disciplinary attention.


    FIFA handed down a six-match suspension for violent conduct, citing video evidence of Cox¡¯s challenge as "deliberate and dangerous."


    The club immediately appealed the decision, with manager John pleading the case personally. "It was emotional, heat-of-the-moment stuff," he said. "Not malice."


    But the appeal was swiftly rejected.


    "We cannot tolerate violence in any form," read the official response from the disciplinary committee. "Regardless of intention, the safety of players must remain our top priority."


    Now, with Cox banned and Curle injured, City¡¯s defensive line was dangerously thin at a crucial point in the season.


    "We¡¯re going with a 5-4-1 formation. Given remains in goal. In defense: Cafu, Tony Vaughan, Sol Campbell, Nick Fenton, and Roberto Carlos. In midfield, we¡¯ll have Jamie Pollock, Jeff Whitley, and Keith Gillespie. Up front, it¡¯s Ronaldo playing just behind Solskj?r."


    O¡¯Neill definitely opted for the most reliable and conservative tactic.


    Back in the League, Manchester City stumbled again¡ªfirst dropping two points in a 2-2 draw with Northampton, then losing more ground on the promotion chase with another draw, this time 1-1 against Mansfield. City were now winless in two consecutive league games¡ªhardly the form of a team pushing for promotion.


    Sensing that the current squad might not be strong enough to get the job done, O¡¯Neill took action. He bypassed John entirely and went straight to Richard with a demand: get a real midfielder this time.


    "Where¡¯s John?" Richard frowned.


    He remembered clearly¡ªhe had already told John to handle the Patrick Vieira transfer as soon as possible.


    And with good reason.


    AC Milan were rumored to be circling Vieira, and it was only a matter of time before they made a serious move. Richard knew he had to act before it was too late.


    Seeing that John couldn¡¯t be relied upon, Richard made his decision.


    Without wasting another second, he picked up the phone and called AS Cannes¡¯ sporting director, Jean-Claude Elineau, directly.


    When you have connections, you use them¡ªespecially in moments like this. This was exactly the kind of moment where Richard¡¯s past as a player agent paid off. In football, relationships could matter just as much as money¡ªif you knew how to use them the right way.


    His objective was simple: place the highest bid and ensure that AS Cannes slammed the door shut on any other club trying to sign Vieira.


    If it had been any other player, Richard might not have stood a chance¡ªVieira could have rejected him outright. But the situation was more complicated.


    He had been a major supporter of Vieira¡¯s family, helping to pay for his brother¡¯s and sister¡¯s education. That made things personal¡ªVieira would feel uncomfortable turning him down.


    Especially when Richard made a special call to Patrick¡¯s mother. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll call him and help you," she said kindly. Then, glancing around to make sure no one was listening, she leaned in and whispered, "I heard his club is under investigation... Can you tell me what¡¯s going on?"


    Richard immediately understood.


    AS Cannes were indeed under investigation by the Direction Nationale du Contr?le de Gestion (DNCG), due to a series of questionable player transfers in the previous season. Among the names involved were William Ayache, Franck Durix, and David Jemmali.


    The reason was clear: the club had allegedly facilitated transfers through personal contacts, bypassing official procedures and potentially breaching transfer regulations. Rumors suggested that manager Safet Su?i? had personally handled some of the deals without informing the club.


    This left Cannes¡¯ sporting director, Jean-Claude Elineau, furious.


    As a result, the team was left weakened and unable to properly replace the players they had lost. Instead of pushing for a top-half finish, Cannes now found themselves battling relegation. There were even whispers that relegation from Ligue 1 was a very real possibility for the club this season.


    "It¡¯s not exactly that they¡¯re under investigation," Richard clarified. "It¡¯s more like they¡¯ve been asked to provide clarification about their previous transfers. It¡¯s the same with Patrick. Last season, AC Milan made contact with AS Cannes, but when they realized Patrick¡¯s contract would expire next season, they pulled out of the deal. They¡¯d rather wait until his contract runs out."


    He sighed, his voice growing uncertain. "I just don¡¯t know what Patrick thinks about moving to City..."


    "Can you guarantee that Patrick will actually play?"


    "Of course," Richard said confidently. "Madam, to be honest with you, now is the best time for Patrick to move. I know AC Milan and some Italian clubs are interested too, but they¡¯re choosing to wait until his contract ends¡ªwhich is still a year and a half away."


    He leaned in, his tone more persuasive. "If he stays at AS Cannes, there¡¯s a real risk the club gets relegated¡ªand that could seriously stain Patrick¡¯s career records. But if he comes to City now and helps the club win promotion, it¡¯ll be his name in the headlines. Isn¡¯t that better than going down with Cannes?"


    "Hmmm," Madam Vieira said, pausing and then hesitating, "But what if Patrick rejects the offer and insists on moving to Milan instead?"


    "Madam, don¡¯t worry. You just need to persuade Patrick, and I¡¯ll take care of Director Elineau and the transfer," Richard reassured her confidently.


    From what he understood about how the DNCG operated, they were likely to freeze certain financial operations within the club.


    This could mean that the proceeds from the sales of players like William Ayache, Franck Durix, and David Jemmali, until clarification was provided, couldn¡¯t be reinvested in acquiring new players, leaving AS Cannes unable to replace them with another high-profile signings.


    As AS Cannes continued their battle to survive in Ligue 1, naturally, they were determined not to face relegation after finally returning to the top tier of French football.


    Now, with AC Milan opting to wait until Patrick¡¯s contract expired, it became clear that AS Cannes wasn¡¯t willing to let him go for nothing. In their eyes, Richard¡¯s proposal presented the best possible solution, offering them immediate financial relief while securing a deal that would benefit everyone involved.


    Director Elineau immediately agreed to Richard¡¯s proposal, and with 500,000 British pounds¡ªequivalent to 5,265,000 French Francs¡ªsecured, the deal began to take shape.


    Now, they were just waiting to see how Patrick Vieira would respond.


    What will you choose, Patrick?

 Chapter 117: The Russian Face of Wealth

    Chapter 117: The Russian Face of WealthIn Los Angeles, the weather was just right¡ªnot too hot, not too cold.


    From the terrace of the penthouse suite at the Plaza Hotel, the lush green landscape stretched out beneath them. It was a perfect morning.


    Sitting at a table draped in a crisp white cloth, Alexander Abramov, Chairman of Evrazholding, casually scratched his ear, a faint grin playing on his lips.


    The Russians definitely knew how to enjoy life.


    With their rugged beards, gleaming G-Wagons, luxurious yachts, and a casual approach to vodka¡ªas if it were water¡ªtheir lifestyle was as bold as it was enviable. Just watching them, one couldn¡¯t help but feel a mix of awe... and maybe even a touch of jealousy.


    Many Russian businessmen aspire to symbols of success and power, which can manifest in expensive tastes, lavish homes, luxury cars, and high-end fashion. Status and wealth are often flaunted as proof of success and influence.


    The table before him was laid out with a glass of whiskey, freshly baked croissants, smoked salmon, and a vibrant salad of fresh fruits and vegetables. As he leisurely enjoyed his brunch, the suite¡¯s doorbell rang.


    Rising from his seat, he strolled across the spacious, elegantly furnished living room. When he opened the door, he found his colleague trainee assistant, Marina¡ªalong with a man unfamiliar to him.


    He couldn¡¯t help but scrutinize the stranger from head to toe.


    Richard simply smiled and nodded in greeting, prompting Abramov to return the gesture with a slight nod.


    Marina raised her hand, gesturing toward Richard¡¯s confident, well-dressed figure.


    "This is Richard Maddox, the CEO of Maddox Capital¡ªthe one interested in investing in us, as I mentioned."


    "Thank you," Richard said, stepping inside with quiet ease. As they crossed into the living room, his eyes immediately locked onto two men seated near the windows.


    He recognized them instantly¡ªhe had done his homework.


    His attention lingered on the man skimming the pages of The Wall Street Journal.


    ¡¯Roman Abramovich...¡¯ Richard murmured internally.


    The ultimate beneficiary of Evrazholding. The future owner of Chelsea FC.


    A man of few words, but immense weight.


    "You¡¯re almost late," Abramovich said without lifting his gaze, his voice deep and steady.


    "But not late, Mr. Abramovich," Richard replied smoothly, offering his hand. "It¡¯s an honor. I¡¯m Richard Maddox."


    The room paused.


    Abramov, Frolov, and Abramovich all stopped what they were doing. For a beat, no one moved. Then, slowly, all three men looked up at Richard.


    He stood his ground, still smiling.


    First test passed. At least he wasn¡¯t a chick.


    Courage was currency here.


    In Russia, personal relationships weren¡¯t just important¡ªthey were everything. Deals weren¡¯t sealed with ink alone, but with trust, loyalty, and shared grit. Respect wasn¡¯t given freely. It had to be earned.


    "Please, have a seat," Abramovich said, gesturing toward the plush leather sofa.


    Richard nodded and settled in.


    "What would you like to drink?" Abramovich asked.


    "Orange juice, please," Richard replied with a polite smile.


    Aleksandr Frolov, the lean, dark-haired CEO sitting beside Abramovich, added, "I¡¯ll take the same."


    "Shall we make it orange juice for everyone?" Abramov said, casting a glance at Marina.


    "I¡¯ve got it," she replied, moving toward the terrace to prepare the drinks from a nearby trolley.


    A brief silence followed¡ªthick, but not unfriendly.


    Breaking it, Abramovich gestured to the men beside him. "This is Chairman Alexander Abramov. And this is our CEO, Aleksandr Frolov."


    "Nice to meet you," Richard greeted them


    "The pleasure is mine. I¡¯ve been looking forward to meeting you," Abramov replied with a smile.


    Then, with a hint of curiosity in his voice, he added, "You see, Roman, Aleksandr, and I are in Los Angeles on business, meeting potential investors in the city. Naturally, many are very interested in Evrazholding. But the moment they hear my friend¡¯s name here¡ª" he gave Roman Abramovich a friendly tap on the arm¡ª"they start to hesitate. Suddenly, they¡¯re not so sure. They say they need to ¡¯think it over.¡¯"


    He raised an eyebrow at Richard, leaning in just slightly.


    "So tell me... why is that?"


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched. Of course, they didn¡¯t dare¡ªor perhaps, they were just waiting for someone to lead by example.


    Roman Abramovich came from humble beginnings.


    Orphaned by the age of three, he was raised by relatives in Russia¡¯s vast, remote Komi Republic. He worked stints in the army and as a mechanic before moving to Moscow and into the world of business.


    He began trading commodities, and in particular oil, then. When the Soviet Union collapsed, Abramovich struck it big.


    In the economic turmoil following the collapse of it, he struck up a relationship with Boris Berezovsky, a flamboyant oligarch with strong ties to Boris Yeltsin, the first president of post-USSR Russia.


    This was exactly why every investor they met hesitated.


    First, Russia was in the midst of a crisis, with corruption running deep and entangling many oligarchs who had amassed their wealth through questionable means¡ªespecially the infamous schemer Berezovsky, whose reputation alone naturally raised red flags for investors.


    Abramovich, with Berezovsky¡¯s help bought a controlling interest in the newly created oil company Sibneft from the government for $100 million.


    The Sibneft deal sprang from the Russian government¡¯s "loans for shares" scheme, in which the Kremlin lent stakes in state assets in return for loans from the private sector.


    Yeltsin¡¯s government needed money urgently to pay government debts and fund an upcoming election campaign.


    The idea was that if the government defaulted on its loan payments (which it eventually did), the lenders kept the shares.


    The scheme was reportedly mired in corruption, with allegations of rigged auctions and shares being transferred for what analysts considered to be just a fraction of their true value.


    The result was a rapid transfer of state assets into the hands of a fortunate few¡ªand the three men in front of him were undoubtedly among them.


    It¡¯s only natural that most investors would hesitate to take the next step. After all, Russian businessmen carry a reputation¡ªmany seen as schemers who once dared to betray their own country, colluding with insiders to siphon off national assets during times of chaos.


    Did Richard care about any of this?


    He didn¡¯t.


    Because at the end of the day, there would be only one man to lead Russia toward stability and renewed greatness: Yeltsin¡¯s chosen successor, Vladimir Putin.


    ¡¯Let¡¯s see who dares to cross him in the future,¡¯ Richard chuckled to himself.


    At least for the next 20 years, everything would be safe.


    Richard met the piercing gazes of all three men with a calm, composed demeanor.


    "Why... does an investor really need a special reason to invest in a promising company?" he replied smoothly.


    Roman Abramovich narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering behind them.


    "Is that truly all there is to it?" he asked, his voice low and probing.


    As someone who had successfully navigated the treacherous world of Russian politics and risen to the top, Abramovich¡¯s instincts were razor sharp. He didn¡¯t surround himself with just anyone¡ªmany of the people he entrusted with key roles were former intelligence operatives.


    Take, for instance, the man Richard had met at the Evrazholding booth during the WWW Conference the previous week¡ªOtari Arshba. A former KGB officer and later a member of the FSB, he wasn¡¯t just a corporate figure; he was a watchful gatekeeper.


    Richard simply shrugged and returned the gaze evenly. "What else could there be?"


    "..."


    "I¡¯d like to ask what it is you¡¯re suspicious of," he added, his tone steady.


    For a moment, Abramovich hesitated, then he finally spoke with a stern expression. "After learning that you¡¯ve been buying up shares, I looked into the Maddox Capital."


    "And?"


    "Despite being a relatively new venture capital firm, your track record is impressive. Real estate, Rover Group, and now, I¡¯ve heard you¡¯ve made several investments in internet companies. Well, to be honest, I was particularly struck by how you managed to acquire Rover Group from the hands of BMW. It¡¯s quite remarkable. Marina!" he then called.


    Richard shot a thumbs-up toward Abramovich. He had only invested a few weeks ago, and yet he already had access to that kind of information? Holy moly. You really don¡¯t want to play dirty with guys like them!


    Marina then arrived¡ªthe woman Richard had met at the WWF conference, the one who had introduced him to Evrazholding and soon brought him into the fold¡ªappearing with the documents.


    Richard was surprised. ¡¯Wait, isn¡¯t she just an ordinary Apple salesperson in disguise? Did he really allow her to attend and listen to this kind of conversation?¡¯


    None of them could read what Richard was thinking as Abramovich continued, his tone sharp: "It seems odd that a new venture capital firm, typically focused on short-term gains, would suddenly invest in a company with such a high valuation. Doesn¡¯t that strike you as contradictory?"


    His words were confrontational, as if challenging Richard to explain himself.


    "No," Richard responded suddenly, emphasizing his point. "You almost forgot, Rover was on the brink of bankruptcy, ready to be swallowed."


    Abramovich paused, considering Richard¡¯s words before nodding. "Fair enough," he said, then continued, "To be frank, I¡¯m concerned that Maddox Capital might have ulterior motives in targeting our company."


    Just like how he swallowed Rover Group.


    Richard allowed a moment of silence to pass before responding calmly, "I think you¡¯re greatly mistaken about something."


    Abramov, Frolov, and Abramovich all stared at him, scrutinizing his every word. But Richard remained composed, unaffected by their gaze.


    "I have no plans to interfere with the company¡¯s management or challenge your control," he added, speaking with genuine sincerity.


    Unless he wanted to be blocked and shut out by the UK government, he saw it the same way as his other investments¡ªbuy low, sell high, making billions before funneling the money into his Manchester City.


    After all, his expertise was in football, and he believed that City would generate more money than any of his other businesses, as long as he played his cards right, of course.


    As for Evrazholding, while he had no desire to get entangled in Russia¡¯s political web, the temptation to invest under Roman Abramovich¡¯s name was simply too enticing for Richard to pass up.


    "I mean exactly what I said. I have no intention of involving myself in Evrazholding¡¯s management," Richard repeated.


    "..."


    "Believe it or not, it¡¯s the truth," he said, taking a sip of his orange juice.


    Abramovich, his confusion growing, asked pointedly, "Really? Wait, if you¡¯re not going to interfere with management, why are you investing?"


    At the end of the day, most investors they had met so far were focused on buying shares with the aim of controlling the company. They had never encountered someone like Richard, who was simply giving money without any strings attached.


    "Isn¡¯t investing under your name enough?" Richard pointed out. "Roman Abramovich, owner of Gazprom Neft, the third-largest oil producer in Russia; Alexander Abramov, a former member of Russia¡¯s space and defense program; Aleksandr Vladimirovich Frolov, a former scientist at the Kurchatov Institute of Atomic Energy in Moscow."


    There was a pause.


    "Unless, of course, you plan to dismantle Evrazholding," Richard added calmly. "But other than that, I don¡¯t see why you¡¯d risk cheating me out of a mere million."


    "..."


    "Hahaha!"


    The Russians burst into hearty laughter. And just like that¡ªunknowingly¡ªRichard had passed the second test.


    It was a measure of how tough and adaptable he was under pressure. How he handled adversity. How much trust and integrity he carried, especially when the heat was on.


    After he passed the two tests, the atmosphere finally relaxed, and the conversation began to flow with ease.


    Abramov turned to Richard. "Tell me, Richard... have you ever dealt with the Chinese?"


    Richard smiled. "Not yet. But I understand people, remember?"


    The Russians laughed, grinning like wolves. Abramovich raised his glass again.


    "To Evraz," he said.


    "To Evraz!" they echoed.


    The three of them clinked glasses and drank. No contracts. No lawyers. Just trust, instinct... and the unspoken understanding that real deals are never made in boardrooms. They¡¯re made in luxury penthouses, over vodka, in the silence between powerful men who understand risk.


    DING~


    The doorbell rang again. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Marina, ever the dutiful assistant, stepped forward with a polite smile. "Allow me to get that," she said, and the others nodded, thinking little of it.


    Moments later, two people entered the room.


    One of them was Otari Arshba, the former KGB officer Richard had met during the WWW conference.


    In his hand, he carried a folder¡ªinside it, a proxy agreement granting Richard the right to delegate his voting power as a shareholder.


    A muscle twitched at the corner of Richard¡¯s mouth. So, they still didn¡¯t fully trust him. But that was fine. He hadn¡¯t expected them to.


    "Ah, Richard," Abramovich said, turning toward the newcomers. "I haven¡¯t had the chance to formally introduce my personal assistant. Going forward, if anything comes up, you¡¯ll speak to her before coming to me. This is Cassandra Granovskaia."


    He paused, then nodded toward the woman standing beside her¡ªthe woman who had been accompanying them all this time¡ªsomeone whose face Richard definitely familiar.


    "And beside her is her younger sister, Marina Granovskaia. I believe you two have already met before."


    Richard was momentarily stunned before his eyes widened. So, the woman he had been interacting with all this time was...


    Granovskaia...


    ¡¯The most powerful woman in football?!¡¯ he almost blurted out.

 Chapter 118: Netscape

    Chapter 118: NetscapeDING~


    The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Richard stepped in alongside Marina Granovskaia.


    "..."


    Nana~????????


    An awkward silence settled between them as light, almost comically upbeat elevator music played in the background, making the situation even more surreal.


    Richard cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. "Ehem... Miss Marina, have you worked with Mr. Abramovich for a long time?"


    Marina, as composed as ever, glanced at Richard with a faint smile and shook her head gently."No, I actually just started not too long ago. My sister was the one who introduced me."


    "Ah, I see. Following in the family¡¯s footsteps?"


    Marina thought for a moment before replying with a soft chuckle. "Not exactly. I¡¯m working with Mr. Abramovich as part of my thesis¡ªjust until I can graduate."


    "Ah, so you¡¯re still a student?"


    "Almost done," she replied, a little sheepishly. "Just one more paper to go."


    The tension in the elevator slowly melted into easy conversation. They began talking more freely, and Richard found himself learning bits and pieces about her.


    Current Marina Granovskaia had studied at the Faculty of Foreign Languages at Moscow State University¡ªbright, well-spoken, and clearly thoughtful. Her older sister had introduced her to Roman Abramovich, which led to this internship-like role at Sibneft.


    Richard nodded quietly to himself. The future Iron Lady of football¡ªcool-headed, formidable¡ªwasn¡¯t quite there yet. But even now, something in her calm, unshaken poise stood out.


    When the elevator opened, both of them stepped out into the underground parking lot and headed toward a sleek black G-Wagon.


    Marina had been assigned to escort Richard to his hotel.


    Richard opened the door on his side but paused before getting in. "Miss Marina¡ªby the way, could you drop me off in Mountain View first before heading to the hotel?"


    Marina glanced at him with a hint of curiosity. "You have business there?" she asked, then quickly realized how forward she sounded. "Ah¡ªI¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to be intrusive."


    Richard let out a small laugh, waving it off. "It¡¯s alright, don¡¯t worry. Just a small visit to tie up a few things. I promise I won¡¯t take long."


    She gave a polite nod, slipping behind the wheel. "Of course. Just point me in the right direction."


    As the G-Wagon pulled out of the garage and into the quiet city streets, Richard leaned back in his seat, eyes on the skyline.


    An idea was forming in his mind.


    This was Richard¡¯s final stop in the United States¡ªand possibly his last investment on American soil.


    Originally, he had placed his hopes in Yahoo, betting on its potential to soar so he could eventually cash out his shares for a solid return. But to his disappointment, the company still felt more like a glorified directory than a serious tech powerhouse.


    With no other choice, he shifted his focus to another internet browser company: Netscape, one of the twin pillars of the dot-com boom.


    If Cisco represented the peak of the bubble, then together, Netscape and Yahoo! were the two companies that sparked the revolution, introducing the internet to the masses¡ªigniting the global dot-com frenzy.


    Just imagining the potential profits from both IPOs brought a smile to his face. By rough estimates, he could walk away with at least two billion.


    Richard was determined. No matter the cost, this was an opportunity he absolutely had to seize. These two pillars were too important to miss.


    Richard and Marina sat at one of the tables in a quiet restaurant. Richard placed his laptop on the table and opened it, catching Marina¡¯s curious gaze.


    "What¡¯s that on your computer?" Marina asked, blurting out the question as something on the screen caught her attention.


    Richard gave her a puzzled look. "What are you talking about?"


    "That one," she pointed at the screen, where a globe encircled by a curved line was displayed¡ªsymbolizing the browser¡¯s role in connecting the world through the internet.


    "Oh, this?" Richard replied casually. "That¡¯s the Mosaic web browser."


    "Why?" he added, "You recognize it?"


    She nodded. "Mr. Abramovich always uses it for work."


    ¡¯As expected of Abramovich,¡¯ Richard thought. If it weren¡¯t for the fact that they were separated by continents¡ªhe would¡¯ve already launched an attack on Mosaic.


    "It¡¯s just the internet. A tool to browse stuff and all that," Richard explained casually.


    "But this one feels different, doesn¡¯t it?" Marina said, still eyeing the screen. "There are a lot of browsers out there now, but this one... feels unique."


    At the time, the internet, computers, and laptops were still rare¡ªmainly limited to large corporations and universities. And even then, not all of them had Mosaic installed. She only knew about it because she once saw Abramovich tweaking his laptop, playing around with Mosaic.


    "Oh, you¡¯re not wrong," Richard said, clicking through a few pages. "Unlike older browsers that only display text, Mosaic can show background images and other graphics. Plus, you can use hyperlinks to jump between pages with a single click. That¡¯s probably why Mr. Abramovich likes it."


    He clicked again, demonstrating the browser¡¯s features.


    Mosaic¡ªthe first graphical web browser¡ªwas nothing short of revolutionary. In many ways, it was the ancestor of modern browsers like Google Chrome, Mozilla Firefox, Opera, and others. A simple interface, but a monumental leap forward.


    Soon, the door to the restaurant opened, and two people walked in¡ªthe very ones Richard had been waiting for.


    Jim Clark, the visionary founder, and Marc Andreessen, the brilliant co-founder who helped turn the idea into reality. But today, both looked utterly exhausted. Their eyes were dark and heavy¡ªgive them pillows, and they¡¯d probably fall asleep right then and there.


    And Richard knew exactly why.


    The NCSA¡ªthe National Center for Supercomputing Applications¡ªwas a public research institute founded by the National Science Foundation, working alongside universities to develop programs for public use. Mosaic was one of its flagship creations.


    Most people assumed the Mosaic web browser was entirely a product of the NCSA. But they were wrong.


    "If they¡¯ve agreed to meet with me," Richard said quietly, leaning closer to Marina, "then it probably means they¡¯re getting ready to leave NCSA."


    Marina blinked, surprised. She leaned in and whispered back, "Why? Didn¡¯t you say their browser¡¯s a massive hit? Two million users already¡ªwhy walk away from that?"


    "That¡¯s exactly the problem."


    "What do you mean?"


    "It¡¯s causing issues because it¡¯s doing so well."


    "That doesn¡¯t make any sense."


    Richard glanced at "the future Iron Lady" before finally explaining, "What do you think happens when a student researcher who hasn¡¯t even graduated yet creates a web browser that suddenly takes all the spotlight?"


    He turned his head slightly, eyes following the two men as they approached. "Of course, that¡¯s bound to rub some people the wrong way."


    Marina¡¯s eyes widened. "Wait... you mean they created Mosaic?!"


    Richard nodded. "Jim Clark¡ªthe man on the left¡ªhe¡¯s the one who made it all happen. From what I heard, they offered him a full-time researcher position after graduation... but only if he stepped away from the browser project."


    "So, they¡¯re trying to push him out?"


    "Exactly. And it gets more absurd. When he protested, do you know what the NCSA said?"


    "What?" Marina leaned in, clearly intrigued.


    For some reason, she had always been drawn to business politics like this. Maybe it was just in her blood¡ªa sign of the sharp instincts that would one day make her a master of player recruitment.


    "They claimed that since Mosaic was developed using NCSA¡¯s resources and people, it wasn¡¯t his¡ªit belonged to the organization. Too high-quality to be a solo project" Richard mused.


    "That¡¯s outrageous."


    "True. It¡¯s a job offer in name only. They¡¯re practically telling him to leave as NCSA holds all the rights to Mosaic."


    "Exactly," Marina agreed with Richard, then continued, "If I were in his shoes, I¡¯d quit too¡ªjust out of sheer frustration."


    Given that it was his idea and he had led the development, NCSA¡¯s response was nothing short of infuriating.


    Richard smiled at this. He almost felt thankful to NCSA for being so shortsighted and petty as to alienate them.


    ¡¯This is incredibly unfair and infuriating for them¡¯, he thought, ¡¯but for me, it¡¯s a golden opportunity.¡¯


    "The fools at NCSA who are pushing him out will regret it someday¡ªmark my words," Richard said.


    "Does he have any specific plans?"


    Richard shrugged. "Probably thinking about heading to Silicon Valley to start fresh."


    Nodding slightly, Marina replied, "Well, he¡¯s the genius behind the wildly popular Mosaic web browser, so I¡¯m sure companies will be lining up with great offers¡ª" S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She stopped mid-sentence as something clicked in her mind. She remembered what Richard had said earlier.


    "You want to invest in their new company?!"


    "Of course. If I weren¡¯t serious, why else would I have stayed in the United States for two months waiting for them?"


    "But starting a company will take more than just two people. It¡¯s going to require a lot of manpower¡ªand serious funding."


    Richard simply smiled. "And I have the money," he said confidently. Then he stood up and extended his hand toward the two newcomers.


    "At last, you accepted my invitation. My name is Richard Maddox, and I¡¯m very interested in your next project¡ªNetscape."

 Chapter 119: Successful Investment

    Chapter 119: Successful InvestmentMosaic had only come to life through the tireless efforts of Jim Clark and another talented programmer, who had spent 18-hour days for three straight months crafting a 9,000-line demo.


    The official version 1.0 took even longer¡ªmonths of additional work by a growing team of researchers. Even now, they¡¯re still patching bugs and refining it.


    As the Mosaic team expanded, it was only natural that the senior researchers at NCSA began to resent the fact that a 22-year-old kid was leading the development.


    That¡¯s exactly why Jim Clark had recruited Marc Andreessen as co-founder. Andreessen had already stormed out of Illinois in a fit of anger, leaving before he even graduated¡ªfed up with the unfair treatment he received from NCSA.


    The moment he arrived in Silicon Valley, companies swarmed him. Everyone wanted the young genius who had helped create the revolutionary Mosaic browser. Offers rolled in¡ªpositions, titles, salaries. Recognition was everywhere.


    But none of it seemed to excite him.


    "This isn¡¯t what I want," he muttered under his breath.


    Leaving NCSA had been a bold move, but what he truly wanted was to build something even better than Mosaic¡ªto bring down the arrogant NCSA that had pushed him aside. However, the companies interested in him had no desire to support a non-profitable web browser project.


    He had the vision. He even had a prototype. But the thought of crawling back to NCSA¡ªor letting his idea die¡ªwas more unbearable than anything.


    "Am I just supposed to conform to reality? Just a little more... just a little more and..."


    Jim Clark felt torn¡ªcaught between chasing his dream and compromising with reality. He knew that if he didn¡¯t find a job soon, he¡¯d be worrying about food expenses by next month.


    Lost in thought, his focus snapped back as an envelope slipped under the door of his cramped, rented apartment.


    "Maddox Capital?" he murmured, brows furrowing at the bold heading.


    But as he read on¡ªand saw their interest in his browser¡ªsomething sparked inside him. After weeks of rejection and silence, hope stirred once again in his chest.


    "At last, you accepted my invitation. My name is Richard Maddox, and I¡¯m very interested in your next project¡ªNetscape."


    The opening was direct¡ªalmost disarmingly so¡ªand Jim was momentarily taken aback.


    He looked up to see a sharply dressed British man standing confidently before him: Richard Maddox. Jim recognized the name immediately¡ªthe very man who had shaken up the British automotive industry with his bold acquisition of Rover.


    "Uh, yes," Jim replied, nodding slightly.


    Richard offered a warm, polished smile that revealed a set of perfectly aligned white teeth. "Pleasure to meet you. I¡¯m Richard Maddox, and this is my assistant, Marina." he teased the future Iron Lady.


    Marina¡¯s brow twitched slightly at the introduction¡ª¡¯Who¡¯s your assistant?!¡¯ She glanced at him again, and he responded only with another bright smile at her annoyed look.


    Still, she extended her hand politely. Jim, slightly awkward, stood to shake it.


    "Shall we sit and talk?" Richard said, gesturing to the table. "Ah, by the way¡ªwould you like some coffee?"


    "Sure," Jim said with a nod, easing back into his seat just as Marc joined him at the table.


    As the waitress left after taking their coffee orders, Richard turned back to Jim. "Why did it take you so long to respond to my invitation? If you¡¯d replied just a little later, I would¡¯ve already been back in the UK by now."


    Jim offered a wry smile. It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t want to respond¡ªhis time had simply been consumed by developing the new web browser and pitching the idea to every company that came knocking.


    The problem was, none of them dared to invest.


    His new browser, after all, wasn¡¯t radically different from Mosaic. And from a business perspective, who would want to put money into a product that looked like a rebranded version of his previous work?


    Business isn¡¯t some dramatic movie where the underdog always gets revenge and wins in the end.


    Seeing no response, Richard wasn¡¯t bothered. "Alright then. By the way, since we¡¯re not that far apart in age, how about we drop the formalities?" S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard¡¯s friendly approach seemed to put Jim at ease. He nodded slightly. "Yeah, sounds good."


    Just then, the waitress returned with their coffee, offering them a bright smile. "Enjoy!"


    "Thanks," Richard said, flashing her a warm smile in return.


    After taking a sip of his iced latte, Richard leaned forward and asked, "I¡¯ve heard the rumors. Is it true you got kicked out of NCSA?"


    "I left, okay? I left them. They didn¡¯t kick me out," Jim emphasized, clearly irritated.


    It was obvious NCSA¡¯s treatment of him still struck a nerve.


    Richard nodded slowly. "People around here have been talking about your fallout with NCSA. I also heard you¡¯re working on a new web browser. How far along are you now?"


    Jim forced a bitter smile. "If things were going well, I wouldn¡¯t be sitting here today."


    "Fair enough," Richard said, stirring his coffee before his tone shifted to something more serious. "I¡¯ve heard the gist of it, so I¡¯ll cut to the chase."


    Both Jim and Marc gave a small nod, signaling they were ready to listen.


    "If you¡¯re still committed to developing this new project, I want to invest in it."


    "...I¡¯ve heard of Maddox Capital," Jim replied cautiously. "But building a real, competitive web browser is going to take serious money."


    He let out a long sigh.


    "If you¡¯re just looking to casually throw around a few tens of thousands of dollars for fun, then honestly, it¡¯s better not to waste your time¡ªor mine. Not that that kind of money is insignificant to me, but still."


    He shrugged, his tone edged with dry honesty.


    Marina glanced sideways at Richard, half-expecting him to take offense or react defensively. But to her surprise, Richard simply nodded in agreement.


    It was fair. Understandable, even.


    Why should Jim trust anyone right away?


    Maddox Capital had pulled off the bold acquisition of Rover, yes¡ªbut that was just an acquisition. The real results hadn¡¯t come in yet.


    Although he was young, Jim had led the team that developed Mosaic at NCSA, so he knew better than anyone how much manpower and money it would take to develop a superior web browser. Naturally, he had to be realistic.


    "Of course, I understand that enthusiasm alone isn¡¯t enough to achieve our goals," Richard acknowledged.


    "Then there¡¯s no point in continuing this conversation, is there?" he replied, looking even more dejected.


    As his expression turned bitter, Richard asked, "Are you sure you won¡¯t regret ending it here? Mosaic wouldn¡¯t have seen the light of day without you. Doesn¡¯t it make you angry to see it all taken away?"


    Jim frowned, meeting Richard¡¯s gaze. "Of course I¡¯m angry!" he snapped, before slumping back in defeat. "But what can I do against NCSA?"


    For developers, their programs are like their children, much like how artists cherish their creations. The truth was, no one was angrier than him. It was just that the harsh reality had forced him to give up.


    "The Mosaic that¡¯s out there now isn¡¯t the final product. I¡¯ll help you create something even better¡ªa web browser that¡¯ll make NCSA eat its words. Won¡¯t that be satisfying?" Richard urged.


    Jim Clark looked at him, filled with suspicion. "Why are you more upset about this than I am?"


    Having been betrayed by NCSA, he couldn¡¯t help but be suspicious.


    "I saw the future in your Mosaic web browser."


    "..."


    "The internet holds endless possibilities, but it¡¯s still too complex¡ªtoo difficult for the average person to access. You, more than anyone, understand that."


    Jim gave a small nod. Mosaic had been built to address exactly that problem.


    "In this situation, a web browser that unifies everything¡ªFTP, email, online navigation¡ªinto a single, intuitive interface is nothing short of revolutionary. The fact that millions of users flocked to it as soon as it was released proves that I¡¯m not exaggerating. Richard leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp. "If you¡¯ve heard about my acquisition of Rover, then you probably know my background. We¡¯re not so different, you and I."


    He paused, then mouthed a single word, almost theatrically: "Visionaries."


    Marina and Marc, who were mostly just there for moral support, were instantly hit with secondhand cringe from Richard¡¯s dramatic "visionary" monologue. In perfect, unspoken sync, they both took slow sips of their coffee¡ªalmost as if the bitter taste might somehow wash away the memory of what they just heard.


    Jim Clark flushed slightly¡ªpart embarrassment, part pride. Still carrying the sting of NCSA¡¯s betrayal, he found himself genuinely moved. At last, someone saw his worth and shared his vision. His guarded demeanor began to ease.


    Richard chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "The way I see it, the future of the tech industry is going to revolve around the web¡ªand the businesses built on top of it. I¡¯m ready to bet everything on that."


    "You¡¯re right," Jim said. "The web browser will be the window to everything on the internet. It¡¯ll be the entry point to the future."


    "I couldn¡¯t agree more," Richard replied, nodding with conviction.


    However, despite the brief spark of determination in Jim¡¯s eyes, it faded again just as quickly.


    "But like I said earlier, it¡¯ll take a lot of money to develop a browser that can surpass Mosaic. And I just don¡¯t have that kind of money," he muttered helplessly. "Even a bank loan wouldn¡¯t be enough."


    At that moment, hearing the helplessness in Jim Clark¡¯s voice, Richard raised his hand to catch the attention of a passing waitress.


    "Excuse me."


    "Yes? How can I help you?"


    "Could I get a napkin, please?"


    "Just a moment," the waitress replied, quickly fetching one from the counter and handing it to him.


    "Thank you."


    Even Marina¡ªwho had spent the past two years accompanying Abramovich and thought she¡¯d seen it all¡ªwas puzzled. What¡¯s with the napkin? she wondered. But then, from her angle, she saw it.


    "Just wait a moment," Richard said, pulling out his brand-new Montblanc fountain pen and scribbling something on the napkin. Then, he slid it across the table to Jim Clark.


    "If you¡¯re serious about starting a company, I¡¯m willing to invest the amount written here for a 40% stake," Richard said.


    "...!"


    Marina¡¯s eyes widened in shock as she glanced at the number on the napkin: $3,000,000.


    Even Jim and Marc froze. Their throats felt dry as they swallowed hard, eyes locked on the figure before slowly looking up at Richard in disbelief.


    "Three million... Are you seriously offering this much?" Jim asked, his voice barely above a whisper.


    "Of course. I¡¯m not here to joke around."


    Jim hesitated for a moment before speaking cautiously, "Just to be clear, NCSA owns all the rights to Mosaic, and my prototype is basically just the same as Mosaic."


    "I know."


    "And you¡¯re still willing to invest this much?"


    "Hmm," Richard said thoughtfully, "let¡¯s just say I believe in you."


    "...!"


    Jim was stunned. The spark in his eyes, which had been dimmed by years of frustration and disappointment, suddenly reignited. He looked like the passionate developer who had worked tirelessly on Mosaic, full of hope and determination once again.


    "Alright. Let¡¯s do this."


    Richard extended his hand, smiling. "So, we¡¯re partners now. I look forward to working with you."


    On the outside, Richard remained calm and composed, but inside, he was practically bursting with excitement.


    ¡¯Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.¡¯


    He could hardly believe it¡ªhe was investing in two of the pioneers who would go on to shape the future of the internet.


    Jim grinned back, shaking it firmly. "Today is the best day of my life."


    "Mine too," Richard agreed, sharing the sentiment.

 Chapter 120: PSV Eindhoven Trick

    Chapter 120: PSV Eindhoven Trick"Another damn draw?"


    Harry van Raaij, the current chairman of PSV Eindhoven, bellowed angrily from the directors¡¯ box as PSV once again failed to win¡ªthis time at home against SC Heerenveen.


    "Score a goal already! Let¡¯s finally get a win!" he shouted.


    "What? You missed that? Defense is the only thing you¡¯re good at, and now you can¡¯t even do that? Useless lot!"


    He finally exploded, no longer caring that people were now staring at him with strange expressions.


    FWEEEET!


    The referee¡¯s whistle blew. Full time.


    1-1.


    Technically, it wasn¡¯t a loss¡ªbut the atmosphere in the stadium felt like it. From the stands behind the bench, he could hear frustration, see fans shouting and cursing.


    "We have to win at home. A draw is no longer enough. The fans feel the same way," he muttered under his breath.


    His face was grim. Now, he had to admit it¡ªthe decision to let Rom¨¢rio go to Barcelona last year was a mistake.


    With the ¡ê8 million they received from that transfer, they had hoped to rejuvenate a squad that was beginning to age¡ªlooking at the long term. And more importantly, they wanted to challenge Ajax, who had been dominating Dutch football for the past year and were still unbeaten in the league.


    (P.S.: Transfer fees were often quoted in pounds¡ªespecially before the euro was introduced¡ªbecause the pound was more stable and trusted than many volatile European currencies. As a result, international deals were sometimes negotiated in pounds or even U.S. dollars.)


    He sighed heavily.


    Aad de Mos, the previous manager, had built a solid squad with players like Phillip Cocu, Jaap Stam, Boudewijn Zenden, and Wim Jonk. They had even signed Luc Nilis, hoping he could fill the void left by Rom¨¢rio.


    If Richard had been around, he would¡¯ve definitely understood what was going on with PSV Eindhoven.


    In fact, former manager Aad de Mos had predicted it perfectly. Had Richard not interfered with Ronaldo¡¯s transfer and allowed him to join PSV, then this year, Luc Nilis and the 17-year-old Ronaldo could¡¯ve formed a deadly duo.


    The young Brazilian striker went on to score 30 goals in his debut season, while Luc Nilis was named Dutch Footballer of the Year¡ªeven in an otherwise trophy-less campaign. Unfortunately, Richard¡¯s involvement created a butterfly effect that altered the course of PSV¡¯s entire season.


    Harry van Raaij suddenly remembered what Aad de Mos had said before being sacked:"I only need one more striker. Luc Nilis is the kind of forward who needs a partner to truly unlock defenses, you know? Just one! Let me get that kid from Cruzeiro!"


    But they failed.


    He pursed his lips as he flipped to page 9 of The Sun, the bold headline jumping out at him in thick, black letters:


    [...New Signings Ronaldo & Solskj?r Shine Again! Dynamic Duo Lead City to Thrilling 2¨C1 Victory Over Huddersfield!...]


    Just below it, a smaller line drove the point home:


    [...Ronaldo is on fire¡ª19 goals by mid-season! Manchester City owner Richard Maddox personally signed the young phenom from Cruzeiro!...]


    He stared at the paper in silence, the corners of his mouth tightening.


    ¡¯Nineteen goals... in just half a season?¡¯


    He instantly began to regret it¡ªthe decision to delay Ronaldo¡¯s transfer. He had wanted to wait, to see how the young Brazilian would perform at the upcoming World Cup before making a move.


    It seemed like the cautious, smart thing to do. But that hesitation had cost him everything.


    And just like that, the rising star who could¡¯ve been the jewel of Eindhoven was now lighting up English football in sky blue. (Chapter 75: Back to England ¡ª Ronaldo¡¯s Transfer to Manchester City Edges Out PSV)


    After the conclusion of the 20th fixture in England¡¯s second division, it could be said that, despite City¡¯s somewhat inconsistent record, Ronaldo was always there¡ªscoring goals and either securing victories or forcing draws. It was a remarkable achievement.


    Mainstream media was hardly paying attention to English football¡ªespecially the Second Division¡ªbut for them, it was different. Ronaldo was making waves and they was still craving another Ronaldo.


    So, he called the newly appointed manager, Dick Advocaat and current PSV sporting director, into his office, and together they began formulating a strategy.


    "According to this newspaper, Ronaldo recorded one goal and two assists in the last match against Huddersfield. Are those stats accurate?"


    At his question, the sporting director hesitated before replying, "Yes, it¡¯s accurate." Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Harry van Raaij took a deep breath. "You said it was better to wait and see how he performed in the World Cup first, so we could potentially lower his price if he got limited playing time, right? Give me the report," he demanded sharply.


    Their current sporting director¡ªoften criticized for his limited tactical knowledge¡ªwas nonetheless known for his excellent club management. His reports were always thorough and clearly written, allowing Harry to understand a player¡¯s strengths, weaknesses, and even the flow of matches without being there in person. That¡¯s the reason he still kept his job.


    He removed his glasses and reread the report.


    The flow and details of the game were clearly outlined¡ªhow the goal was scored, how the assists were made. It was pure skill. Just like Rom¨¢rio. In other words, they might¡¯ve just missed another Rom¨¢rio... only younger, tougher, and possibly even more skillful?


    He wasn¡¯t sure how to answer that.


    While the report highlighted that all of Ronaldo¡¯s contributions¡ªhis goal and two assists¡ªstemmed almost entirely from individual brilliance, it still raised one important caveat: this was the third tier of English football. It was entirely possible Ronaldo was simply exploiting the weakness of lower-division defenders.


    That thought gave him a bit of comfort.


    After rereading the report once more, he looked up. "Is there any chance we can still sign Ronaldo next season?"


    "That... was..." The sporting director faltered, struggling to find the right words.


    Harry van Raaij clicked his tongue in irritation, and the director visibly flinched under the weight of his glare.


    "If a shot goes in, it¡¯s because the player trained for that relentlessly. If a deflection leads to a goal, it¡¯s because the team practiced positioning until it became second nature," he said sharply. "But if he can dribble, shoot, pass, and defend..." He stopped, glaring. "You told me to wait and watch. Well, I waited. And now that kid¡¯s tearing up the English league while we¡¯re still drawing matches here."


    The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling like fog.


    "So, tell me," Harry van Raaij said, eyes narrowing. "Is there any chance we can get Ronaldo next season¡ªor have we truly missed our last shot?"


    "..."


    The scathing words left the sporting director drenched in cold sweat. Grinding his teeth, he finally mustered the courage to speak.


    "It will be very difficult for us to get Ronaldo now... he currently has five years left on his contract."


    Both Dick Advocaat and Harry van Raaij were dumbfounded.


    "Five years?!" Advocaat repeated, shocked. "A six-year contract?!"


    The sporting director nodded awkwardly, not meeting their eyes, then quickly tried to redirect the conversation.


    "But, sir, I¡¯ve already found another potential replacement. Take a look at this."


    He handed over another report¡ªone related to a player he believed could fill the role they had once meticulously prepared for Ronaldo.


    "Rivaldo?" Harry van Raaij asked, raising an eyebrow. Just from the name, he could tell it was another Brazilian.


    "Where is he playing now?"


    "He¡¯s currently on loan at Bristol City... from Manchester City."


    "Interesting. A visionary playmaker, but also a prolific scorer," Advocaat muttered as he skimmed the profile. "But wait¡ªhe¡¯s only played nine matches so far. Why is that?"


    The sporting director shrugged. "From what I¡¯ve heard, it¡¯s partly due to Manchester¡¯s weather. Plus, when City first brought him in, he was a bit too skinny for the league. That made them hesitant to play him regularly. But once they saw his skill in training and matches, their stance changed¡ªthey¡¯re now seriously considering keeping him permanently."


    If Richard found out that his previous move had already tipped off the ambitious PSV¡ªthat they were now eyeing Rivaldo to fill the void left by Ronaldo¡ªhe¡¯d probably want to pull his hair out in frustration.


    After all, his ultimate goal was to unite the legendary "Trio R" at Manchester City!


    "Dick, what do you think?" Harry van Raaij asked, turning to his manager.


    "I think he¡¯s a good option on the left wing," Dick Advocaat replied. "The formation I prefer is 4-2-3-1, so in the end, I¡¯d rather have a strong winger than another out-and-out striker."


    "Is that so?" Harry van Raaij nodded thoughtfully, then turned to his sporting director.


    "Can you handle the Rivaldo situation with Bristol City?"


    "Yes. If you approve, I¡¯ve already prepared a draft agreement. We can offer Bristol City a friendly match next season as part of the deal. In addition, we could loan them one of our academy players¡ªit¡¯s a win-win. Our player gains experience, and they get something in return."


    He leaned forward, voice steady.


    "As for Rivaldo, we¡¯ll pitch him on the promise of top-flight football and remind him of Rom¨¢rio¡¯s success here. PSV isn¡¯t just a club¡ªit¡¯s a launchpad. We want him to be the next big Brazilian star in Europe. We can also offer favorable climate, excellent training facilities, and comfortable living conditions."


    Richard, still in the U.S., had no idea what was happening back in Europe. He was fully immersed in the whirlwind progress of both Yahoo! and Netscape.


    As for Yahoo!, he had already discussed the topic of equity with Jerry Yang and David Filo. The initial agreement valued the company at $5 million, with Richard set to invest $1,000,000 in exchange for a 20% stake.


    However, things had developed further.


    After Richard shared several unique concepts¡ªincluding a monetization strategy and structural ideas for scaling¡ªboth Jerry and David agreed to increase the equity offer.


    This was part of Richard¡¯s condition: in total, he would receive 25% equity in the company.


    20% would be purchased with $1,000,000 in cash, and the remaining 5% would be granted in exchange for his ideas.


    He had tried to negotiate for more, but Jerry and David were only willing to give up 25%. Richard didn¡¯t press too hard. From the company documents, even without his revenue idea, the company will still be valuable since there are already several key patents registered.


    The fact that he was able to almost double their original offer was already a huge win. With a 25% equity stake, even future dilution wouldn¡¯t stop him from eventually appearing on the list of billionaires.


    "Jerry Yang will hold 37.5%, David Filo will also hold 37.5%, and Maddox Capital will take the remaining 25%. Please confirm if everything looks good."


    With that, the three men signed the final legal documents.


    And just like that, they were officially the three founders of Yahoo!

 Chapter 121: City Entered the Internet First

    Chapter 121: City Entered the Internet FirstTwo days later, Richard met Jim Clark of Netscape again in the business meeting room of the hotel where he was staying.


    As they sat down to finalize the investment contract, Jim, dressed in a slightly awkward suit, looked tense. Beside him, a lawyer sat ready to offer legal advice.


    Richard was also accompanied by Adam Lewis, who had arrived from New York the day before.


    After thoroughly reviewing the contract, the stern-looking lawyer in a black suit with a tightly knotted tie spoke up. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "There are no issues with the content."


    Richard smiled and added, "As agreed, $1 million will be invested in exchange for 40% equity in the company. Additionally, there¡¯s a clause granting our representative the right of first refusal if any further investment is required."


    Jim, already familiar with the terms, nodded slightly.


    "Then, if there are no objections, you may go ahead and sign the contract," the lawyer said.


    Jim exhaled deeply, emotions rising within him. He was on the verge of restarting the web browser development project he¡¯d nearly given up on due to the harsh realities he had faced.


    After a brief moment of hesitation, Jim took the pen handed to him by the lawyer. With a mix of anticipation and resolve, he signed the contract.


    Richard, smiling broadly, stood up and extended his hand.


    "Now we¡¯re really in this together. I¡¯m looking forward to seeing you create a fantastic web browser that will leave NCSA in the dust."


    "Thanks for believing in me. I won¡¯t let you down," Jim replied, his face flushed with excitement as he shook Richard¡¯s hand, before suddenly realizing something.


    "By the way, let¡¯s change the name of your current prototype."


    Jim was caught off guard. "What do you mean? Is the name not good?" he asked, puzzled.


    "It¡¯s not that, but it could cause problems down the line. Even though you developed the web browser, NCSA owns all the rights to it," Richard pointed out the loophole.


    "Ah, I see," Jim said, his face twitching slightly as he nodded, still stung by the realization.


    "If you create a new web browser, NCSA will be unhappy. If you use the name ¡¯Mosaic,¡¯ how do you think they¡¯ll react?"


    "But ¡¯Mosaic¡¯ is the name I came up with!" Jim snapped, feeling defensive.


    "I get it. I understand how you feel, but since NCSA holds the rights, the name is no longer really yours," Richard said sympathetically, but with a firm tone.


    "Damn it," Jim cursed, frustrated as he came to terms with the truth of the situation.


    Lewis, who had been quietly listening, spoke up.


    "The representative is right. NCSA could make things difficult if you continue using the ¡¯Mosaic¡¯ name."


    Jim¡¯s lawyer, too, sided with Richard, which caused Jim to bite his lower lip in frustration. After a moment, he sighed, resigned. "You¡¯re right. It would be foolish to hold onto something I can¡¯t reclaim."


    He calmed himself, finally accepting the situation.


    Relieved that Jim Clark was willing to listen to reason, Richard felt a weight lift off his shoulders. ¡¯Even if we avoid using the Mosaic name, NCSA will likely find other ways to go after us. But it¡¯s better to limit the chances of giving them any ammunition,¡¯ he thought.


    Jim¡¯s entire philosophy and approach to web browser development were deeply rooted in his experience with Mosaic, so conflicts with NCSA were likely inevitable. However, Richard was satisfied that they had avoided using the name and the potential legal issues it could bring.


    "What do you think about the name Netscape for the browser?"


    Jim tilted his head, looking intrigued. "I¡¯ve never heard that word before."


    "It¡¯s a combination of ¡¯network,¡¯ meaning the internet, and ¡¯escape,¡¯ as in adventure or exploration. I came up with it," Richard explained, keeping a straight face, even though he knew the real creator was sitting right in front of him. "It symbolizes a gateway to explore new worlds through the internet. What do you think?"


    "Netscape..." Jim muttered, repeating the word a few times. His eyes suddenly lit up. "It¡¯s easy to remember, and it rolls off the tongue nicely. More importantly, the idea of exploring new worlds through the internet is perfect for a company developing a web browser. I love it!"


    "I¡¯m glad you like it," Richard replied.


    "I don¡¯t just like it¡ªit¡¯s much better than Mosaic," Jim said enthusiastically, even clapping his hands.


    Given that the real Jim Clark had coined the name Netscape in the original timeline, it was only natural that he would be so pleased with it.


    Richard nodded, pleased. "So, the first thing we need to do is find an office, right?"


    But Jim shook his head. "No, there¡¯s something we need to do first."


    "What¡¯s that?"


    "I need to bring over the colleagues who helped create Mosaic."


    "..." NCSA is a national research center, and this is a fledgling startup. Do you think they¡¯ll be willing to jump ship so easily?" Richard asked, concerned.


    Jim nodded reassuringly. "The people who joined later are just along for the ride. The real core members are the student researchers who worked with me from the beginning. They haven¡¯t left yet, but they¡¯re just as dissatisfied as I was with NCSA¡¯s interference and disregard for our work on Mosaic."


    If NCSA had treated even the founder poorly, there was no reason to think they had treated the other early developers any better.


    Of course, NCSA would be furious when they found out their people had been poached. But that was NCSA¡¯s fault for not properly valuing and respecting their talent.


    "If I go and talk to them, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll join us," Jim said confidently.


    Moreover, with a powerful competitor like Microsoft potentially entering the web browser market at any time, there was no room for hesitation.


    Having reached that conclusion, Richard then warned, "Even if they¡¯re dissatisfied, it won¡¯t be an easy decision to leave the security of NCSA for a new startup."


    "That¡¯s true... It wasn¡¯t easy for me either," Jim admitted, recalling the difficulties he had faced when he decided to leave NCSA for Silicon Valley.


    "Passion is important, but you need to offer them appropriate compensation and incentives. After all, that¡¯s why you left NCSA, isn¡¯t it?" Richard pointed out.


    "You¡¯re right. Asking them to join without any guarantees would be selfish," Jim said, nodding heavily as he realized the seriousness of the issue.


    "It would be best to offer stock options so they can share in the company¡¯s growth. That way, they¡¯ll be more motivated to work hard," Richard suggested.


    As the company grew, the value of the stock options would also increase, encouraging everyone to work harder and take initiative. So he cleared his throat and said, "You know what? I¡¯m actually willing to part with my shares to provide for the employee stock option pool ¡ª in case Netscape decides not to issue new shares."


    Jim, and even Marc ¡ª his partner ¡ª were taken aback. The room instantly grew serious.


    Different from Jim, who was purely tech-savvy, Marc had a pure business background, so he definitely knew that Richard was probably trying to bait them.


    "The catch?"


    Richard leaned forward and said, "I¡¯m only willing to part with my shares when Netscape goes public; that¡¯s the priority here. And..." He cleared his throat. "I want it in writing that Netscape will work with Maddox Capital, but publicly, it¡¯s not Maddox Capital investing in Netscape ¡ª it will be Manchester City. Also, Netscape needs to be City¡¯s official sponsor for the next year."


    If the timeline is correct, then next year, at the latest, Jim Clark¡¯s Netscape will go public. Doesn¡¯t that mean free exposure?


    "Manchester City?"


    Both Jim and Marc exchanged confused glances.


    For them, the only "Manchester" they knew was United, not City.


    Richard saw their confusion, but after explaining, they began to understand.


    "You want exposure?" Marc asked, raising an eyebrow.


    Richard nodded confidently.


    "Of course. The earlier, the better."


    Just like how Arsenal.com launched in 1996, becoming the first Premier League club to create an official website ¡ª and one of the first football clubs worldwide to do so.


    Richard¡¯s idea was for Manchester City to be the first to launch their own site, ManCity.com, with basic news updates, match previews, and results. It would eventually evolve into player bios, fan features, and even early digital revenue models to generate income online.


    Richard had done his homework, and he was already ahead of the curve.


    This season, Manchester United had already made one of their first major pre-season tours abroad ¡ª to Thailand, Malaysia, and Hong Kong.


    It was clear they were targeting the Asian market aggressively, trying to compete with Liverpool¡¯s established fanbase in the region ¡ª especially in Malaysia, Thailand, and Singapore, where Liverpool had a huge following.


    Chelsea, still in the pre-Abramovich era, remained relatively quiet on the international stage.


    Arsenal, thanks to their established status as one of the "Big 4" clubs, had gained prime coverage in the region over the past two years, ever since the Premier League sold its broadcast rights to Asian networks like Astro (Malaysia), Star Sports (India/SEA), and ESPN Asia.


    As for Serie A ¡ª no question there. The league had already reached niche markets via stations like TVRI (Indonesia), RTM (Malaysia), and NHK (Japan), thanks to its powerful reputation.


    Serie A was massive in Asia, especially AC Milan and Juventus, which were among the most recognized teams in the region, playing in high-profile matches in Asia ¡ª mostly via the Toyota Cup.


    As for the Spanish giants, Real Madrid and Barcelona, the Gal¨¢ctico era didn¡¯t begin until the late 90s/early 2000s, so there wasn¡¯t a strong push in the region until then. Similarly, Barcelona, while admired by diehard fans and football purists, saw its branding and global expansion come much later ¡ª particularly after the Ronaldinho and Messi eras.


    When compared to Manchester City, it can be said that the club, both in its current form and in the years before Sheikh Mansour¡¯s takeover, failed to fully capitalize on its commercial potential.


    It¡¯s basically the same as how the Scottish league eventually lost more than 90% of its fanbase in Asia starting in the 2000s.


    In countries like Thailand and Malaysia, Celtic and Rangers actually had large pockets of support due to the UK¡¯s cultural influence (ex-colonies, military bases), Scottish expats, and missionaries. However, they never fully commercialized this audience.


    Similarly, Manchester City, even in the future, didn¡¯t fully capitalize on the popularity of players like Sun Jihai from China.


    After the contract was signed, Richard checked out of the hotel and, along with Lewis, headed to Los Angeles International Airport.


    As he leaned back in his seat, gazing out at the passing scenery, Lewis, seated next to him, cautiously broached the subject.


    "Richard?"


    "What is it?"


    Lewis cleared his throat and carefully said, "I think you need to see this."


    At first, Richard dismissed it¡ªuntil he saw the news that made him stop in his tracks.


    [...Rivaldo reached an agreement to join PSV Eindhoven in a deal worth ¡ê6 million...]


    "What the fuck...?"


    Richard could only mutter as he picked up his phone, ready to call the current person handling Manchester City ¡ª John Maddock.


    Just as Richard was about to dial John¡¯s number, his phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the screen ¡ª a French country code. His heart skipped a beat.


    "Hello?"


    "Mr. Richard?" came the voice on the other end.


    "Madam Vieira? Yes, this is Richard."


    There was a long pause. The silence on the other end made Richard uneasy.


    "Mada¡ª"


    "Mr. Richard, I¡¯m sorry," she finally said, her voice hesitant. "But... it seems I can¡¯t convince Patrick to join your club."


    Richard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had feared this might happen.


    "Please, Madam Vieira," he said gently, "tell me exactly what happened."

 Chapter 122: Totally Done with the Physios

    Chapter 122: Totally Done with the PhysiosRichard was happy that his investment in United States had started to show success, but he didn¡¯t expect to be suddenly hit with two pieces of bad news.


    Rivaldo had signed a verbal agreement with PSV.


    Patrick Vieira had decided to accept AC Milan¡¯s offer.


    "Damn you, John!!!"


    Before coming to the United States for business, Richard had already told John to handle the issue with O¡¯Neill, who was requesting another midfielder.


    Naturally, Richard had recommended Patrick Vieira¡ªthe one he trusted and knew well. He never expected Vieira¡¯s mother to suddenly call him about her son wanting to join AC Milan.


    If things turn out this way, then Vieira will follow his original timeline¡ªjoining AC Milan before eventually moving to Arsenal.


    In Italy, he¡¯ll end up making only five first-team appearances for the club. So, wouldn¡¯t it be better for him to come to Man City instead of wasting a year drifting aimlessly at AC Milan?


    Unfortunately, Vieira doesn¡¯t know any of this. And with a smile, he gladly accepts AC Milan¡¯s offer.


    And then about Rivaldo, how could he suddenly reach a verbal agreement with PSV out of nowhere?


    The fact that he still has half a year left on his contract means that City must have opened the door to PSV. And who else could have opened that door if not the current, beloved general manager of Manchester City?


    Richard paused for a moment before dialing Roman Abramovich.


    "Richard?"


    "Mr. Abramovich, I apologize for disturbing you at this moment, but are you heading to London today?"


    "I am. What¡¯s going on?"


    Richard cleared his throat. "Mr. Abramovich, could you do me a favor? Is it possible for me to hitch a ride with you to London? I have an urgent situation here."


    "We¡¯re leaving in an hour."


    "The sooner, the better," Richard replied.


    "Then come to Los Angeles International Airport. I¡¯ll send Marina to guide you through the terminal."


    "Thank you very much, Mr. Abramovich."


    "No worries."


    After hanging up the phone, Richard sighed in relief. He glanced at Adam Lewis. "What about you? Are you coming with me?"


    Lewis shook his head. "De Marco¡¯s thesis paper will be reviewed next week, so I¡¯ll stay to oversee that."


    Richard nodded, not pressing him further.


    After parting ways with Lewis, Richard gathered his things and headed down to the hotel lobby, where he found Marina already waiting for him.


    The limousine sped down the long, straight road, eventually arriving at the Los Angeles International Airport, located south of the city. As one of the top-ranked hub airports in the United States, it was bustling with aircraft from all over the world, crowding the vast tarmac.


    Among the large, bulky commercial airliners, a sleek white Gulfstream IV business jet stood out, its body gleaming under the sunlight.


    The black limousine carrying Seok-won and Landon glided to a stop next to the elegant jet. A white driver in a suit opened the door, and the two men stepped out. As the driver retrieved their luggage, they climbed the steps into the jet, where a tall, slender flight attendant greeted them with a bright smile.


    "Welcome aboard."


    Richard nodded slightly in response to her greeting and took a quick look around the cabin.


    The interior was spacious and luxurious¡ªlike a penthouse in the sky. Adorned with the finest materials, the cabin featured plush leather seats, polished wood accents, thick carpeting, and softly glowing wall panels that bathed the space in warm light.


    As he stepped further in and settled into one of the wide leather seats, facing the jet¡¯s owner, Roman Abramovich, along with Alexander Abramov and Aleksandr Frolov.


    "This is really impressive," Richard remarked as he looked around, taking in the opulence.


    "Is this your first time?" Abramovich asked, glancing over at him.


    "I¡¯ve chartered a few times before, and the rest was just first class," Richard replied honestly.


    "First class is nice," Frolov said with a chuckle, "but compared to this, it¡¯s like the difference between a deluxe room and a presidential suite."


    "Indeed it is," Abramovich agreed, laughing.


    Richard leaned back in the seat, letting himself relax. "Flying is always such a hassle, but I could get used to this. Shame I¡¯m only hitching a ride this one time."


    "You could easily afford one of these," Abramov remarked. "Why not buy one?"


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched into a small smirk. The idea intrigued him, so he turned to Abramovich. "How much does one of these cost?"


    "The price varies depending on how it¡¯s outfitted," Abramovich replied smoothly, "but this model goes for around $25 million."


    Well, it¡¯s not exactly cheap, but it¡¯s not out of reach either," Richard mused.


    Just wait until all his recent investments pay off¡ªthen he could easily afford a jet of his own, maybe even something bigger than this one.


    Just then, the flight attendant approached with their luggage. "We¡¯ll be taking off shortly, so please fasten your seatbelts."


    As they buckled up, she smiled kindly and asked, "Is there anything you¡¯d like?"


    "We have Macallan 25-year and Balblair 17-year," Abramovich added, turning to Richard. "What about you?" sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Orange juice, please."


    "As always, huh?" he smirked, then nodded toward the flight attendant.


    The jet left the tarmac, rolling along the long taxiway until it reached the end of the open runway and came to a stop.


    [Good afternoon, this is your captain speaking. I¡¯d like to extend a warm welcome to our VIP guests on board. We will be departing from Los Angeles shortly, en route to London Heathrow Airport. The estimated flight time is 10 hours and 20 minutes. We wish you a safe and pleasant journey.]


    After the captain¡¯s announcement, the jet received clearance from the control tower. The engines roared to life, and the aircraft accelerated down the long runway before taking off and soaring into the sky, disappearing into the white clouds.


    Richard spent one day in London, spending time reuniting with his father and mother before he drove his Porsche the next day towards Maine Road stadium.


    Extraordinary General Meeting!


    The first thing he did upon arriving in Manchester.


    Miss Heysen, as the club secretary, naturally informed everyone involved¡ªfrom the general manager and coaches to the physios and senior non-football management staff.


    The atmosphere was very serious in the meeting room. After all, the current City team was still languishing in mid-table in the Second Division, plagued by injuries.


    "Thank you all for being here in full. I also appreciate your contributions while I was away in the United States. Now, let¡¯s begin."


    First, the injury crisis currently surrounding Man City.


    Richard sat at the head of the table, reviewing the medical reports with a furrowed brow.


    "Is it really this serious? Five players recommended for rest?" he muttered, rubbing his temples.


    He glanced up at the assistant head physio, his expression sharp.


    "Isn¡¯t that a bit much? The players look fine. Sure, the schedule¡¯s been tighter lately, but each of them needing a full month off? That¡¯s four league matches lost!"


    "Sir, I understand your concern, but¡ª"


    Richard held up a hand, cutting him off.


    "Let¡¯s talk about Paul Lake. Can he still play or not?"


    The physio team exchanged uncertain glances, clearly reluctant to speak. Richard sighed¡ªhe already sensed the answer. He turned toward the assistant head.


    "Wasn¡¯t it your team that cleared him to play? And now, one tackle and he¡¯s out again? No¡ªhe was given clearance even during Alan Ball¡¯s time, wasn¡¯t he? If he¡¯d focused on recovery instead of being pushed to play, none of this would¡¯ve happened. Am I wrong?"


    "..."


    "And where is the head physio? Why are you the one standing here in his place?"


    "..."


    "No answer? Fine. Let me ask you this instead." Richard cleared his throat. "I¡¯m not a medical professional, but I¡¯ve taken the time to educate myself on this field. Correct me if I¡¯m wrong."


    "Doctors can often identify an athlete¡¯s sport by the nature of their injuries. For instance, a snooker player may have an unbendable spine due to prolonged upright bending, divers often experience retinal issues, runners face stress fractures, and football players frequently experience tendinitis. If someone presents symptoms related to most of these ailments, they¡¯re likely a football player, am I right?"


    Everyone¡¯s eyes widened slightly after a moment of silence.


    Richard calmly asked, "With so many daunting injuries currently plaguing City, my question is simple: can our medical department handle these injuries? Can we provide our players with the best medical treatment, both now and in the future? Can you guarantee that?"


    "..."


    "Still no answer?"


    Richard leaned back in his seat, exhausted by the situation. He didn¡¯t have the energy to ask any more questions.


    "Alright, then."


    After that, he began with finance, marketing, media communication, and even stadium & matchday operations.


    CLAP!


    "Now, everyone, listen to me," he clapped his hands to get everyone¡¯s attention. "I¡¯m making this clear¡ªstarting today, we¡¯re doing things differently."


    As the sole owner of Manchester City, Richard began laying down new directives, ready to reshape the club according to his vision.


    "Centralized control from the top," he emphasized. "Every department must align under a unified vision. Every decision¡ªwhether in football or non-football operations¡ªwill go through a centralized leadership team that reports directly to me."


    He definitely rejected the old-fashioned conservatism often found in English clubs. He had no interest in clinging to outdated traditions.


    "Now, as for the current physio team, Mr..."


    What he needed were top-tier professionals to fill key non-football roles¡ªfinance, marketing, legal, operations¡ªpeople with strong corporate backgrounds who shared his ambition for long-term sustainability and global reach.


    He didn¡¯t just want success on the pitch¡ªhe wanted to build a lasting institution. To do that, he looked to the model used by top European clubs in the years to come, especially with the unique advantage of knowing how the future would unfold.


    Starting with the physios, Richard had finally had enough¡ªboth with their mishandling of Paul Lake and the injury crisis currently plaguing the club.


    "So, for every person I just mentioned, I expect you to pack your things before this weekend and prepare to leave the premises. We will ensure that you receive your severance pay, which will be processed according to company policy. Please understand that this decision is final, and your departure will be handled with respect and professionalism. A member of the HR team will assist you with any questions or details related to the process."


    "Wait sir, you definitely can¡¯t¡ª"


    "Oh, I definitely can. There¡¯s clear evidence of gross negligence and repeated failure¡ªespecially in how you mishandled one of our players, not to mention the increasing number of injuries under your care. So, personally, thank you for your service over the past years. Your contractual severance package may offer more than the standard, and it will be processed accordingly."


    Richard¡¯s words left everyone momentarily speechless.


    After finishing all the non-sport-related matters, Richard finally turned his gaze toward John.


    "Follow me."

 Chapter 123: You’re Fired!

    Chapter 123: You¡¯re Fired!From the meeting just now, it was clear to everyone that Richard, the current owner, meant business. The situation echoed the time when he fired the entire scouting department¡ªhe wasn¡¯t playing around.


    Firing the entire physio team? Was he out of his mind? What would happen if a player got injured?


    John, who walked behind Richard, couldn¡¯t help but question the decision. After all, for a football club, the pillars of the sporting department are the coaching staff, scouting, medical, and the academy.


    So, someone with experience in football certainly couldn¡¯t comprehend what Richard aimed to achieve by firing the entire physio team.


    "Richard, I get it¡ªyou¡¯ve already fired the entire coaching staff and the previous scouting department. But now, the physio team? Are you crazy? What happens when a player gets injured? Don¡¯t tell me we¡¯re supposed to take every injured player to the hospital."


    "Isn¡¯t it better?"


    That was all Richard said to counter his questioning, leaving John speechless.


    The injury rate among football players is high, and predicting specific injuries is challenging. In many ways, football has advanced medically, increasing awareness of terms like meniscus, metatarsals, peroneus brevis, and cruciate ligaments.


    The sheer volume of injury-related terminology can be overwhelming, even for something as comprehensive as the Encyclopedia Britannica.


    Richard opened the document, selected five of them, and placed them in front of John.


    "These are the background checks for the five physiotherapists at City, including the head and his assistant. Two are licensed doctors, and the other three are former fitness coaches. So, if I ask you¡ªwhen a player gets injured, like Paul Lake, would you trust his recovery to a fitness coach instead of professionals with medical expertise?"


    In 1990s, many clubs still operated with relatively basic medical equipment. Physiotherapists primarily relied on manual techniques such as massage, stretching, ice baths, and bandages to treat injuries.


    It¡¯s the same with personnel¡ªwhy would the current City squad only have five physios, with three of them being former fitness coaches and not medical doctors?


    It¡¯s because football clubs at the time had more generalized medical staff, where one or two physiotherapists treated players, while others focused on immediate treatment during and after matches.


    This approach was less structured, and physiotherapists didn¡¯t have the specialized roles or advanced skills seen in modern sports medicine.


    Rest and basic treatments like ice packs, bandages, and heat were the most common forms of injury recovery. But for specific injuries like ACL tears, dislocated joints, and fractures, further medical assistance was often needed.


    "..."


    John was left speechless.


    Even with physiotherapists on staff, injuries may not always be treated properly or in a timely manner, leading to extended recovery times or even more severe long-term damage.


    For Richard, the current state of City¡¯s medical department could be summarized as follows: a lack of preventative care, insufficient expertise in medical emergencies, and a less structured approach to injury prevention.


    Paul Lake¡¯s injury is the prime example.


    Had they been providing tailored treatment plans based on his specific needs, perhaps Paul¡¯s injury would not have worsened to this extent, potentially jeopardizing his career.


    Richard spread his hands and stated matter-of-factly, "See? This is exactly my point. We must expand the medical department to avoid misdiagnoses and improper treatments in the future, ensuring the health of our players. Therefore, I plan to build a medical center step by step, eventually evolving it into a specialized hospital dedicated to catering to Manchester City."


    "What?! But the budget¡ª" John interjected, clearly surprised by Richard¡¯s proposal. He felt that suggesting the club should build a hospital was a bit extreme.


    Richard turned and looked at John, his tone calm but firm. "John, do you know how much a star player could cost in the future?"


    John shook his head, unsure.


    "I¡¯ll tell you," Richard continued. "Ten million is just a standard transfer fee for a regular player. True stars? They¡¯ll go for anywhere between thirty and sixty million. So, this isn¡¯t just about the medical department. From a business perspective, if a player suffers a career-ending injury, we¡¯re looking at a loss of millions. If multiple players fall to injuries, it becomes an astronomical figure. Keep any doubts about player value to yourself¡ªtime will prove me right."


    "..."


    That¡¯s when John suddenly brought up the keyword ¡¯budget,¡¯ causing Richard¡¯s eyebrow to twitch.


    "Alright, enough with the medical discussion. Now tell me, how has Rivaldo already reached a verbal agreement with PSV? What have you been doing?!"


    His plan to bring in the trio¡ªRonaldo, Ronaldinho, and Rivaldo¡ªwas in shambles, thanks to the guy in front of him.


    Originally, his plan was simple: let the trio "R" take care of City¡¯s front and then sell them for a high price after the 2002 World Cup. How much money could he rake from that?


    John remained calm as he answered Richard¡¯s question. "You said before that you¡¯d handle Patrick Vieira¡¯s transfer. But our current transfer budget isn¡¯t enough to¡ª"


    "Didn¡¯t I approve you to allow such a transfer?" Richard cut in sharply.


    John hesitated. "But usually, under Lee¡¯s management, I was the one who handled those kinds of¡ª" S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard raised his hand abruptly, clearly frustrated. He was tired of John hiding behind Francis Lee¡¯s management style to making decisions on his own.


    "Am I Francis Lee to you?" Richard¡¯s voice was low but sharp.


    "..."


    "What was my instruction to you before? Take care of Vieira¡¯s transfer, right?" Richard pressed on. "Now, tell me, how far along is the transfer? What progress have you made?"


    John frowned, hearing the urgency in Richard¡¯s tone, but he still tried to explain. "Well, after I get the fee from Rivaldo, I can raise the funds to meet As Cannes¡¯ asking price for Vieira¡ª"


    "Are you sure about that?"


    "What do you mean?"


    Richard took a deep breath. "Do you know that Berlusconi approached Vieira before you even made your first move? While you were busy negotiating Rivaldo¡¯s transfer behind my back, Vieira was already halfway to signing with AC Milan."


    John stood frozen, completely dumbfounded.


    "That¡¯s impossible, I already¡ª" he stopped mid-sentence and instinctively reached for his phone, intending to call AS Cannes, but Richard waved his hand dismissively.


    "There¡¯s no point. How do you expect to compete with AC Milan now? Even if you offer him a bonus, there¡¯s no way Vieira will change his mind¡ªespecially not when Berlusconi himself got involved directly."


    John stared at him, still processing. "How did you find out about this? There hasn¡¯t even been any news yet..."


    Richard cast him a brief, sideways glance. "His mother told me."


    John shut his mouth instantly, realizing he was completely out of his depth.


    Richard let out a long sigh, picked up his phone, and dialed¡ªthis time, calling Rivaldo directly.


    The phone rang twice before the line clicked.


    "..."


    "Rivaldo, it¡¯s Richard."


    A brief silence followed. Then came Rivaldo¡¯s voice¡ªcalm, respectful, but distant. "Yes, Mr. Richard."


    "I¡¯ll get straight to the point," Richard said, leaning forward. "I heard about you and PSV. But I want you here at Manchester. We¡¯re building something big next season. You and Ronaldo¡ªwe¡¯ll build the team around you both. You won¡¯t just be a star. You¡¯ll be the foundation."


    Another pause. A longer one.


    "You haven¡¯t signed anything yet, have you?"


    "No," Rivaldo replied. "But where I come from, a promise is as good as a contract. And Mr. Richard..." Rivaldo hesitated for a moment before saying what was on his mind. "I¡¯m getting older, and with how City is performing right now, I¡¯m not confident the club can compete at the top level anytime soon."


    ¡¯You¡¯re still 22, for god¡¯s sake! Can¡¯t you come up with a better excuse than that?¡¯


    "..."


    Richard took a deep breath. He didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he quietly ended the call, his expression unreadable, then dialed again¡ªthis time, Vieira.


    The line picked up quickly.


    "I¡¯m sorry¡ªI¡¯m really sorry!" Vieira said before Richard could even speak. "I just signed the contract with them. They¡¯ll probably announce it tomorrow."


    Richard slowly set the phone down.


    Sometimes your investment pays off, and sometimes it doesn¡¯t. Even if you¡¯ve approached the player¡¯s family, at the end of the day, football is all about the relationship you build with the player. If it fails, then somewhere along the line, there was an external factor that caused it to fall through.


    Admit it and move on¡ªbut first, you need to remove those external factors


    Across the room, John stood frozen, wide-eyed, as the weight of the moment sank in.


    He hadn¡¯t expected AC Milan to move so quickly¡ªswooping in and snatching up Vieira while he was still busy finalizing Rivaldo¡¯s transfer to PSV!


    "Two, John..." Richard could barely get the words out before his voice rose in frustration. "TWO! You just lost two players¡ªplayers I personally recruited and watched develop!"


    How much had he lost in value? Ten million? Twenty?


    He had just lost two future stars¡ªtalents he knew would rise to the top and could¡¯ve been sold for a massive profit. The thought of it all made Richard¡¯s blood boil.


    "Get out."


    "...What?"


    "I said get out. Don¡¯t come back here again. Go, get your payout from Miss Heysen and be thankful I even gave you that. Consider it a gesture for your so-called contribution¡ªlike selling fucking Rivaldo behind my back!"


    "W-wait, I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª"


    "I don¡¯t give a damn anymore. Just go. When you sabotage my players and my club, your position is already gone, John. There¡¯s nothing left to discuss. Just leave."


    "I¡ª" He wanted to say something, but no words came out. With a heavy sigh, he turned around¡ªuntil Richard stopped him.


    "Wait¡ª"


    John felt a flicker of hope, hoping for another chance... but then he saw Richard pull out a document from his drawer and hand it to him.


    "Let¡¯s skip the handover process and public statement. You don¡¯t need to come in today, tomorrow, or ever again."


    "..."

 Chapter 124: John Terry

    Chapter 124: John TerryWith a three-match winning streak, the team¡¯s morale surged as they triumphed over Cambridge United, York City, and Chester City, followed by a draw in the League Cup against Newcastle United!


    With this result, the first-team players could finally enjoy a well-deserved three-day break in peace.


    Richard decided not to visit the first-team squad and instead headed over to the youth team, or what they still called City¡¯s A and B teams.


    Today was the FA Youth Cup match, and Richard took out his phone to call Willie McStay, the current coach of Manchester City¡¯s A team.


    He informed him that he wanted to take a closer look at the development of a few specific players.


    Paul Robinson, John Terry, Rio Ferdinand, and William Gallas¡ªthese were the only players he had personally recruited for City¡¯s academy since taking over the club.


    Twenty minutes later, he stood alone on the almost empty Maine Road.


    It seemed the match had already been underway for some time, and Richard couldn¡¯t help but wonder how the team was performing.


    When the club owner appeared on the sidelines, the first to take notice were Willie McStay and O¡¯Neill, who was also keeping an eye on potential players for promotion. Soon, both of them approached to greet Richard.


    "Mr. Richard, what brings you here?" O¡¯Neill asked, extending his hand in greeting.


    "I¡¯ve come to see if the youth team has any outstanding players," Richard replied with a polite smile, shaking his hand and then McStay¡¯s before taking a seat beside them.


    Both McStay and O¡¯Neill exchanged a glance but tacitly agreed not to say anything. After all, the current owner just wanted to watch and observe, not intervene with anything.


    "What about you, Martin? I thought you were supposed to be overseeing the first-team training?"


    O¡¯Neill gave a bitter smile. "It¡¯s about Ian. After the incident with the Wimbledon player in the last match, he¡¯s refused to play."


    "What do you mean, refused?"


    O¡¯Neill explained, and the pieces quickly fell into place¡ªit was about the red card in that match.


    "Do you know why he¡¯s really refusing to play?" Richard asked quietly.


    O¡¯Neill let out a sigh. "Because we didn¡¯t appeal the ban. He thinks the club didn¡¯t stand by him, and he¡¯s frustrated with how we handled the situation."


    "But he also didn¡¯t tell the club, did he?" Richard pointed out, highlighting the source of the problem.


    It was indeed a racism issue¡ªjust as he had suspected. But don¡¯t be too quick to blame the club.


    The reason City didn¡¯t appeal the ban wasn¡¯t because they didn¡¯t want to, but because Ian Cox kept everything to himself. By the time the truth came out, it was already too late.


    Ian had already served his one-match ban, which meant that even if City appealed, they were almost certain to lose. As a result, the club¡¯s legal solicitor, Frank Shepherd, advised against proceeding¡ªan opinion that John, who was in charge at the time, chose to follow.


    Racism in football was unfortunately prevalent, both on and off the pitch. Players often faced racial abuse from fans, and incidents like this were all too common.


    In many cases, players felt that their clubs weren¡¯t doing enough to support them when such situations arose, leaving them feeling isolated and unsupported. For example, in 1993, the infamous "racist chants" incident involving John Barnes saw not only the opposing team¡¯s fans but even some of his own teammates¡ªand even the tea lady!


    That¡¯s why, in the current era, the victim had no outlet to express themselves¡ªvery different from the future, where even the smallest incident could spark attention on social media. For now, they chose to stay silent, likely doubting the club¡¯s stance. If only Cox had known the club would support him, things might never have reached this point


    "Since he didn¡¯t tell us, there¡¯s nothing we can do," Richard said with a slow nod, finally understanding the heart of the issue¡ªbut said nothing more.


    If he still didn¡¯t want to play for the next match, he wouldn¡¯t mind putting him on the transfer list. It would just be a waste of money paying his salary.


    Back to the match again.


    No one could recognize Richard¡ªprobably just a few people did¡ªbut still, everyone on the pitch was neither blind nor a fool, especially current City players.


    When they saw O¡¯Neill¡¯s sudden appearance on the sidelines, they knew this was a good opportunity to make an impression.


    This included Ferdinand, Gallas, Terry, Robinson, and also all their teammates.


    They were all working hard to perform well, each determined not to fall behind. The only problem is... you know those who can¡¯t resist the urge to show off.


    It¡¯s a simple and unpredictable mindset from the young players. The more they try to dazzle, the tighter they grip the ball, and the longer they hold on, the more all eyes are on them!


    The balance was broken the moment players began forcing risky passes, dribbling aimlessly, and holding onto the ball for too long¡ªgradually eroding City¡¯s statistical edge.


    Not that it mattered.


    The scoreboard on the sidelines showed the match score so far: 1-0. The home team, Manchester City A, was ahead of the visiting team, York City youth.


    Before Richard knew it, he was already scribbling notes during the match¡ªa small habit he had maintained for a long time. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Much like writing official reports on upcoming opponents, player strengths and weaknesses, and other tactical observations, note-taking had become second nature to him. He had developed the habit during his previous occupation as a scout, long before becoming a football agent.


    He was especially focused on gathering information about upcoming opponents and individual players¡ªidentifying strengths and weaknesses, analyzing how teams played with and without the ball, studying set-piece diagrams, and observing how opponents reacted under pressure.


    For him, evaluating a player¡¯s potential required fair and comprehensive judgment. All of this informed his approach to team selection and match strategy¡ªor didn¡¯t, depending on the circumstances.


    This became even more crucial when he already knew that a player was destined to become a star.


    Timing was everything.


    Sometimes, you couldn¡¯t tell if external factors were affecting a player¡¯s performance¡ªmaking them look poor when they actually weren¡¯t. Just like a player who seemed unimpressive early on but suddenly blossomed after a transfer¡ªleaving their former club to watch in regret.


    That was exactly what he wanted to avoid.


    So, his best approach for now was to rely on his old-school scouting methods: using his future knowledge as an advantage, applying stats where appropriate, but above all, trusting the evidence of his own eyes.


    Just like the current situation¡ªan anomaly¡ªespecially the most noticeable one: John Terry


    Richard frowned and turned to McStay, unable to help but ask, "Number thirty¡ªis that John Terry?"


    McStay was caught off guard for a moment, but quickly glanced over and nodded, as he had expected.


    "That¡¯s John Terry, right. He just joined, and to be honest, if we weren¡¯t so short on players right now, I wouldn¡¯t have played him."


    His performance had been poor. Very poor.


    McStay deeply regretted the decision. If they had another player who could fill in at midfield, things would have been different. But with the squad stretched thin and needing rotation, he had no choice but to play him in this match against a lower-tier team.


    "During shooting practice, even with an open goal, he couldn¡¯t score a single goal out of ten attempts. And when it came to driving the ball into the net, he had no clue. I had to teach him. But... damn, this kid¡¯s attitude is awful. He refuses to listen and always wants to do things his own way. If it weren¡¯t for the rotation, he wouldn¡¯t even be in the squad today," McStay briefed Richard.


    "When was he brought on?"


    "He¡¯s in the starting lineup."


    "Do you have his current statistics?" Richard asked.


    McStay quickly called the assistant, who had just walked away, and asked for the details. After a quick check, he shook his head. "Nearly forty minutes¡ªno shots, no assists, no interceptions, no tackles, no chances created, not even a foul... nothing whatsoever."


    Zero.


    Absolutely zero?!


    Richard frowned deeper, his concern growing. ¡¯Even if you¡¯re not playing in your natural position, it¡¯s not supposed to be this bad... right?¡¯


    He kept watching, more intently now¡ªuntil something glaringly obvious caught his eye.


    "Wait... why is he so small?" Richard said, standing up and walking toward the edge of the pitch to make sure his eyesight wasn¡¯t playing tricks on him.


    But no¡ªnothing had changed.


    Out of all 22 players on the field, why was Terry, essentially, the smallest one out there?


    He was stunned. Turning toward McStay, he couldn¡¯t help but ask, "Is there something wrong with him? Why is he so small? Is he... malnourished or something?"


    It reminded him a bit of Rivaldo¡ªbut that couldn¡¯t be right. He¡¯d never heard of Terry having that kind of issue.


    If there was something glaringly off, it wasn¡¯t on the pitch... it was off the pitch. Cough¡ªyou know... the kind of "team bonding" Terry got a bit too famous for later on.


    Also...


    "And what the heck is he even doing right now?" he couldn¡¯t help but ask, his eyes never leaving the field.


    He frowned as he watched John Terry, who was clearly struggling to grasp the game.

 Chapter 125: City’s Backline is in Safe Hands

    Chapter 125: City¡¯s Backline is in Safe HandsJohn Terry started out with the famous East End feeder club Senrab before joining West Ham¡¯s academy setup under their academy boss Tony Carr.


    To be honest, for Richard, it wouldn¡¯t have been easy to convince Terry if he hadn¡¯t personally stepped in to recruit him.


    At the time, Terry was already on a YTS contract with West Ham, so Richard¡¯s first move was to approach Terry¡¯s father. Initially, he was rejected. His dad told Richard that it had always been his dream to see his son captain the Hammers.


    (P.S. YTS *Youth Training Scheme* was the name in the United Kingdom of an on-the-job training course for school leavers aged 16 and 17)


    However, Richard had a few tricks up his sleeve. He essentially sweet-talked both John and his father into making the move to City. He offered money, a release clause in case City failed to gain promotion to the Premier League within three years, and other benefits, like the promise that John would eventually be made team captain. In the end, Terry, ever obedient, agreed to join Manchester City.


    Richard still remembered how Tony Carr cursed him when he found out Terry was leaving West Ham. For Carr, it was the second time a highly talented player he had admired had just walked out the door.


    The first was Tony Adams. Though Carr had managed to bring him to West Ham initially, Adams informed him on decision day that he¡¯d be signing for Arsenal instead. Fair enough¡ªArsenal probably offered better terms.


    But Terry? A massive disappointment.


    When you¡¯ve had a player in your care for two years, and then he suddenly ups and leaves to sign for another club¡ªit stings. It forces you to question everything: ¡¯Why did he leave? Was it something we did? Did we not treat him right? Was he unhappy with his position?¡¯ Something, clearly, had gone wrong.


    Clearly, just like how strong Arsenal scouts back then managed to entice Tony Adams to reject them, the name of the UK¡¯s youngest billionaire, Richard Maddox, was enough to persuade John Terry and his father as well.


    Of course, he cursed in the media, though not directly¡ªhe used difficult metaphors and slang that Richard couldn¡¯t care less about. For him, the most important thing was that he got his man.


    Watching John Terry¡¯s performance, Richard was lost in thought. Not because of his disappointment, but because... he was interested.


    As the future captain of England and Chelsea, if following the original timeline, naturally, leadership, mental strength, emotional control, and decision-making are key priorities. So, what would you do, John, if you were in this situation?


    He was interested in how this future England great defender would handle it


    And Richard was right. Currently, John Terry was in crisis.


    He was not blind. He saw O¡¯Neill and even Richard Maddox¡¯s sudden appearance on the sidelines and knew that this was a good opportunity to show himself. His teammates were also trying hard to perform well, and he was not willing to fall behind


    It was just that no one was willing to pass the ball to him, because if it were passed to him, it would only make the team¡¯s overall performance look bad. Everyone else would lose the chance to perform.


    Because... he is the youngest on the team, and people don¡¯t believe in him.


    When Richard asked why John Terry¡¯s physique was noticeably smaller than that of the other players, he initially assumed it was due to nutrition or something along those lines. But he didn¡¯t expect the reason to be truly messed up.


    "You say what?!" Richard was stunned as he listened to McStay¡¯s explanation.


    Every player on the pitch was at least 16¡ªGallas and Ferdinand included. Paul Robinson was 15, but he was a goalkeeper, which Richard could understand.


    But John Terry?


    A fuckin 13 years and 1 month old.


    That group of players would usually share a few laughs, but when it came down to the crunch, who wouldn¡¯t prioritize themselves first? There was nothing to be done. Such was the harsh reality of professional football. One couldn¡¯t complain about others not giving them a chance if they didn¡¯t have the strength to earn it.


    Still, though, at the last moment, one or two chances came his way, and the ball landed right at his feet. Terry knew this was his chance. He made a run before striking the ball, but instead of heading towards the goal, it veered off towards the stands.


    Terry wondered if his performance was over just like that.


    Looking at his teammates¡ªhow the more they pressed on, the closer they got, and how, as a midfielder, the more he kicked, the farther away he was from the goalmouth¡ªhe thought that maybe taking off the blue jersey and following his father to work in construction, a job that didn¡¯t require any skills or positional awareness, was the most suitable option for an uneducated clod like him. As long as he had the strength, he could do it.


    ¡¯What if I had stayed at West Ham instead?¡¯ Doubts flickered in his eyes.


    The pressure here, even though this club¡¯s reputation is far below West Ham¡¯s, why does it feel like the pressure is so much greater?


    "Mr. Richard, do you think Terry has the potential to be a great footballer?" McStay couldn¡¯t help but tease, speaking aloud in a way that made O¡¯Neill, who was sitting beside him, skip a beat.


    After all, this is the renowned "Super Agent Richard"¡ªa man with 13 players under his name, each one exceptionally talented. You could say every player he represents is top-tier, with Premier League clubs lining up to pay millions for their signatures.


    Rumors even say he managed to buy Manchester City using the money he earned from brokering deals for the top players under his management.


    Richard didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he rubbed his chin and watched more closely as John Terry, Rio Ferdinand, William Gallas, and 15-year-old Paul Robinson played.


    As for Paul Robinson, there¡¯s no need to discuss¡ªhe¡¯s too young to be City¡¯s number-one goalkeeper, so that¡¯s something to skip.


    Rio Ferdinand, there¡¯s no need to question his ability. He had already become a starter at 11 years old and never once missed a starting spot at Eltham Town before gaining further experience at Charlton Athletic, Chelsea, Millwall, and Queens Park Rangers¡¯ youth teams.


    Not to mention, his mother even said he traveled north to Middlesbrough¡¯s training ground, spending a good part of his school holidays in a bedsit just to be there. Watching how Ferdinand played, Richard was satisfied and gave a thumbs-up to Tony Carr once again. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    First John Terry, and now Rio Ferdinand. Once again, he had been the one to go up against Richard to secure Ferdinand¡¯s signature. Thankfully, Richard and the Ferdinand family maintained a strong relationship, especially after all the support he gave to Anton Ferdinand. Even now, they stayed in touch.


    The next moment, Richard¡¯s gaze landed on William Gallas.


    He immediately turned to O¡¯Neill and pointed at Gallas, who was holding the ball.


    "Let¡¯s promote him to replace Ian Cox."


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s eyes widened before he looked to McStay, hoping for a different perspective. But to his surprise, McStay cleared his throat and said, "Bad communicator, but a fantastic player. If you¡¯re looking for versatility, Martin, I think if you want to promote someone, Gallas is definitely the better choice."


    ¡¯Of course, has any of you seen a defender wearing number 10, except Gallas?¡¯ Richard¡¯s mouth twitched, remembering the future he knew.


    He recalled from the future when Gallas played for Chelsea, and their manager, Jos¨¦ Mourinho, said, "Fantastic player. He¡¯s the kind of player that when you have him in your squad, instead of having 22 players, you have 24 or 25. He can play right-back, left-back, central defender on both sides. I don¡¯t remember a mistake from William; I just remember his untouchable performances."


    This is why Richard recruited Gallas in the first place. In case any club was willing to snap up their bank accounts for Campbell, Cox, Cafu, and Carlos, at least he had a reliable, versatile player to replace any one of them.


    And finally, the last piece of the puzzle¡ªJohn Terry, the current anomaly.


    He immediately turned toward McStay. "Want to bet?"


    "What?"


    "On what happens in the second half," Richard said. "Let¡¯s see if your opinion changes about John Terry¡ªwhether he can become a superstar or not. What do you say? Don¡¯t worry, it won¡¯t affect your career here."


    "...What¡¯s the catch?" McStay asked cautiously.


    "Hmm..." Richard paused, then held up two fingers. "Unconditional support¡ªno questions asked¡ªwhen I start revamping the academy. Second, I¡¯ll give you a list of players, and I want them to be your top priority for getting minutes on the pitch. Deal?"


    Football clubs¡ªespecially in England¡ªhave long followed a structured system, heavily influenced by ¡¯old-school¡¯ mentalities. Managers and coaches held most of the power over footballing decisions, including those related to the academy and player promotions.


    It was culturally rigid, as most owners didn¡¯t typically have the expertise or background to run a football club themselves. As a result, this structure was respected and rarely challenged.


    Micromanagement¡ªcommon in corporations¡ªwas rarely seen in football. The expectation was to trust the professionals hired for each role. Hands-on interference would have been viewed as ¡¯stepping on toes¡¯ or seen as disrespectful.


    Richard definitely wanted to break that culture at City. As someone passionate about football, he truly wanted to be more involved.


    Unfortunately, his business in America had already created a gap, so he couldn¡¯t just step into the current City first team setup as he pleased. He also couldn¡¯t fire O¡¯Neill, as the manager hadn¡¯t even been in the role for a full year yet.


    Since he couldn¡¯t get involved with the first team, focusing on the academy was the next best option. Exceptions did exist, after all. The only challenge was making sure he approached it not with force, but with a more careful and strategic touch.


    After O¡¯Neill and McStay discussed for a long time, they soon came to a conclusion. O¡¯Neill coughed before clearing his throat and asked, "Mr. Richard, pardon me if I¡¯m being offensive, but what if you lose?"


    Tapping his finger against his thigh, Richard responded, "Since I¡¯ve made two unconditional requests, I¡¯ll grant two requests from you as well, as long as they make sense and are within my reach. How does that sound?"

 Chapter 126: Revamping the Academy and Reserve

    Chapter 126: Revamping the Academy and ReserveRichard sat in his office, a gleeful expression on his face, while O¡¯Neill and McStay looked on with grim faces. None of them had expected John Terry¡¯s performance to turn around so dramatically in the second half.


    "So, what do you think?" Richard asked with a hint of amusement.


    He continued, "Dominating in the air during set-pieces, making clean, well-timed tackles, staying tight on his man and tracking the runs. Can you guess why Terry struggled in the first half?"


    "Was it because you instructed him not to push forward and stay back?" McStay asked.


    "Exactly!" Richard clapped his hands together. "And we¡¯ve found the perfect position for him."


    McStay thought for a moment before replying, "Defensive midfielder?"


    "Wrong! Centre-back!" Richard grinned. "It doesn¡¯t matter if he can¡¯t shoot or pass. What we need him to do is stop the attacks. He¡¯ll be the best stopper we¡¯ve got."


    But just as Richard was about to continue, his face suddenly darkened. He gestured for them to sit down, then began the conversation.


    "Tell me about the current City academy ¡ª the Reserve, A Team, and B Team. All of them."


    To think... they allowed a thirteen-year-old to play alongside sixteen-year-olds. How could anyone expect him to perform?


    From physical maturity alone, 13-year-olds are still in the early stages of development. This means there¡¯s a significant size and power discrepancy, which can create an imbalance ¡ª potentially leading to injuries or unfair competition.


    Currently, Manchester City competes in a total of four leagues across various levels.


    First, the main squad plays in the Second Division, the main squad.


    Second, the City Reserve team competes in the Central League (Northern Section).


    Third, the City A squad participates in regional divisions within the Youth Alliance, including the FA Premier Youth League.


    And finally, the fourth team ¡ª City B ¡ª focuses primarily on internal development and local friendlies. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    From there, Richard was finally able to understand how City¡¯s youth teams were run ¡ª a legacy left behind by Peter Swales and Francis Lee that had remained largely untouched and rarely re-evaluated.


    In the past, he had briefly taken on the role of a youth coach at City under Tony Book. But at that time, he was mostly in the background, and his role was so minimal that he never truly understood how things were running.


    Only after hearing McStay¡¯s explanation and reviewing the current regulation handbook did he begin to understand, little by little.


    He felt thankful that he had attended the youth match today, as it finally gave him insight into areas that needed improvement or change.


    Richard shook his head. "This isn¡¯t going to work," he said, glancing over at O¡¯Neill and McStay. "Starting next season, there will be no City A or City B anymore."


    What do you expect when a group of experienced 16-year-olds ¡ª who¡¯ve trained and played together for years ¡ª suddenly see a much younger kid joining them on the pitch?


    Thankfully, John Terry came from a tough environment, which built his mental resilience and ability to handle pressure. Even when the others refused to pass him the ball and isolated him in the previous match, he stayed focused and kept pushing through.


    "Wait, what do you mean there will be no City A and B next season?" McStay sprang from his chair.


    Youth teams are crucial for every football club. They provide a platform for clubs to identify potential talent early, which can later be nurtured into professional-level players. It¡¯s essential to ensure that clubs have a sustainable pipeline of talent, reducing their dependency on expensive transfers from other clubs.


    Even O¡¯Neill also couldn¡¯t help but frown at this.


    Every club should have at least a youth academy, and no, they basically need it as it¡¯s a way to reduce the need for expensive signings. Fans love to see "local" talent in the first team, which strengthens their emotional connection to the club.


    "I know what you mean, but we will not do it based on how the current league operates," Richard said before pulling out a blackboard and starting to write on it.


    "Let me explain it to you. The current City have Reserve, City A, and City B, right?" he said, then continued, "The reason I said there will be no City A and City B is because I want to change them next season to strictly define the academy based on age group categories."


    O¡¯Neill and McStay watched as Richard crossed out "Reserve Team" on the blackboard, only to write above it: "U-18," and "U-16."


    From a league perspective, there was no strict age-based league structure like the modern U-23, U-18, or U-26 setups. Most academies and youth development systems operated with broader age ranges for their teams, lacking clearly defined age group divisions.


    Richard originally wanted to emulate La Masia, which operates a comprehensive youth development system encompassing multiple age groups. But thinking about the costs, his mouth twitched.


    How much per year?


    Probably around ¡ê5 million ¡ª primarily due to the expenses associated with housing and training facilities for 60 kids alone.


    ¡¯Yeah, step by step. Step by step, alright,¡¯ Richard thought to himself.


    Moreover, there weren¡¯t many equivalent multi-tiered league systems for youth teams in England, unlike the Royal Spanish Football Federation (RFEF), which has long placed a high value on developing homegrown talent. They even encouraged the creation of age-specific leagues such as the Cadete (U16), Infantil (U14), Alev¨ªn (U12), and Benjam¨ªn (U10) leagues.


    In England, many clubs still operated traditionally with just a "Youth" and "Reserve" team, which meant they could include a mix of players from a broad range of ages, depending on their ability and development level.


    Heck, sometimes, if the coaching staff believed it would benefit a player¡¯s growth, they would be forcefully promoted¡ªjust like in the recent case with John Terry.


    Most clubs here prioritized their senior team, following a structured training regimen but with limited resources. Especially for clubs with tight budgets, the facilities for the reserve and youth squads were functional but modest¡ªgood enough to maintain standards, though not as polished as those of top-flight clubs.


    Richard didn¡¯t know exactly when the FA introduced specialized teams for each age group, such as Premier League 2 for Under-23 players, the Under-18 Premier League Cup, or the Under-16 Premier League.


    However, he didn¡¯t want to wait for it to happen.


    Even someone with little knowledge would understand that, as health and psychological awareness continues to grow, many youth sports competitions are structured by age categories to ensure fairness and safety. These rules are in place to protect younger players from competing in environments that may be physically or mentally inappropriate for their stage of development.


    "From now on, the current City setup, the academy will make a strong push to establish specialized teams for every age group," Richard said. "We want to provide better pathways for young players to develop at an appropriate level before stepping into senior football."


    Richard continued. "The new philosophy at the City academy will be that players move up not just based on ability and readiness, but also when their age is appropriate. Just like with Terry, I want their development to happen at the right pace¡ªnot rushed into situations where they might struggle. We¡¯ll gradually ease players into more competitive environments as they mature,"


    "Wait, wait, Mr. Richard!" McStay quickly stopped him before he could continue, pointing to the crossed-out words "Reserve Team" on the blackboard.


    "But why did you cross out the reserve team?"


    Unlike youth teams, reserve teams were more fluid since they weren¡¯t age-restricted. This allowed older players¡ªoften nearing the end of their careers¡ªor those returning from injury to get valuable game time. The reserve team also served as a bridge for youth players who weren¡¯t quite ready for senior football, as it featured a mix of older and younger players.


    "Oh, that¡¯s simple¡ªwe won¡¯t need it next season," Richard replied casually, leaving both O¡¯Neill and McStay momentarily speechless.


    "It doesn¡¯t matter, does it?" Richard said, glancing at the list of players in the reserve team. He then looked back at the two people in front of him. "The current City squad is lacking players, right? What¡¯s the point of having so many squads?"


    "Wait, but the current reserve team is still competing in the Central League," O¡¯Neill said.


    "But I said, this plan is for next year, isn¡¯t it?" Richard countered swiftly. "Even then, look¡ªthe current reserve team, competing in the Central League, only has two players aged 19 and 20. The rest are all still under 18. So what¡¯s the point of having the reserve team compete in the Central League?"


    "Then what about players who are coming back from injury? How will they get minutes to regain their fitness?" O¡¯Neill asked.


    "Then they will train with the U-18s to regain their fitness or do personal training sessions," Richard replied confidently.


    O¡¯Neill wanted to say something, but his words got stuck in his throat. He wasn¡¯t wrong, though.


    CLAP


    Richard clapped his hands before handing O¡¯Neill two names. "Prioritize their promotion for the rest of the season."


    "Wait, what about the midfielder I requested?" O¡¯Neill asked, glancing at the two names. "And why are you giving me two names? Didn¡¯t we only discuss Gallas before?"


    "Gallas as the replacement and Ferdinand as the backup."


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s brow furrowed in response, but there was nothing he could do. Now, he had to join McStay to discuss matters with Richard.


    Richard looked at him with a knowing expression. "Because your player stepped out of line. I have to make a strong statement." He paused, glancing out the window at the silent Marine Road pitch. "We have to set a clear example for anyone who disrupts team harmony and negatively impacts performance."


    Ian Cox was transfer-listed by Richard!


    Of course, O¡¯Neill, known for his strong protection of his players, vehemently rejected Richard¡¯s decision. However, Richard had a valid reason for placing Ian Cox on the transfer list.


    "When a player refuses to play without a valid reason, it sets a poor example for the rest of the team, especially those who might later make similar demands," Richard stated firmly. "I can¡¯t allow that. I don¡¯t want to make the current City squad appear weak or disorganized. We¡¯ve already had the double relegation issue, and the last thing we need is more problems down the line."


    After a lengthy back-and-forth, O¡¯Neill reluctantly agreed to the decision. However, he continued pressing for another midfielder.


    Richard, however, knew he had to respond differently this time.


    "I¡¯ll think about it," he said, a response that was notably different from the promise he had actually made to O¡¯Neill ¡ª one to bring in another midfielder.


    You¡¯re kidding me, right?


    Even without a world-class midfielder, with the Brazilian trio, Shay Given, Sol Campbell, Solskjaer, and Emile Heskey ¡ª and now adding Gallas and Ferdinand ¡ª if O¡¯Neill¡¯s performance is still poor, then Richard will probably have to start looking for another manager to replace him.


    Finally, both of them left his office. With O¡¯Neill and McStay gone, Richard returned to his work, quickly becoming fully immersed in it.


    Barely twenty minutes had passed when a sudden knock interrupted his focus. Before he could respond, Miss Heysen burst through the door.


    "Richard!"


    Startled, he looked up to see Miss Heysen standing there, visibly out of breath and clearly alarmed. "What is it, Miss Heysen?"


    "You¡¯re in the newspaper!" she exclaimed, holding it up.


    Richard frowned and snatched the paper from her hands, his eyes scanning the front page.


    John Maddock, in an interview with the Manchester Evening Herald: "It left me feeling sick... I can honestly say it left me wondering why I bother."

 Chapter 127: Entering Working State

    Chapter 127: Entering Working State"I wonder why the media never covered this story before. I thought they weren¡¯t interested¡ªbut now, suddenly, here they are," Richard mused.


    Miss Heysen had expected him to be angry. But to her surprise, he wasn¡¯t. He had clearly anticipated this all along.


    "Did you expect this to happen?" she asked.


    "Of course, Miss Heysen," Richard replied calmly. "And not just this. After this article, more people will flood the media with opinions¡ªcriticizing Manchester City left and right. Just wait and see."


    After all, many people probably still resent the way he completely overhauled nearly all of City¡¯s most important departments. There were also several club legends who hoped to be called back¡ªbut never were.


    They probably felt like they were ghosted by him, which is ironic, considering he never intended to call them in the first place.


    Richard shook his head and decided to dismiss it. He turned to Miss Heysen, but before he could speak, the loud whirring sound of the fax machine suddenly filled the room.


    KRRRRRRRT! BZZZZZ! TCHK-TCHK-TCHK¡ªSKREEEEEE!!


    "Incoming fax!"


    Richard¡¯s eyes lit up as he stood and grabbed the paper from the machine, quickly returning to his seat to examine it.


    The first document was a ¡ê6 million offer from PSV, along with an agreement from Bristol City¡ªthe club currently hosting Rivaldo on loan from Manchester City.


    Richard didn¡¯t know what exactly PSV had promised them, but somehow, they¡¯d managed to get Bristol on board. Now, all that was left was his approval.


    ¡¯Six million...¡¯ Richard thought for a moment before giving the green light on the transfer.


    He bought Robvaldo for ¡ê2.5 million, which means he made a ¡ê3.5 million profit from the transfer. Well, since the player wanted the move, it was better not to hold him back.


    "Miss Heysen, please check the club¡¯s account for me and let me know if there¡¯s any incoming transfer from the Netherlands. The amount is six million."


    "Understood," Miss Heysen replied, sighing as she gave up on persuading Richard. She then began to focus on her own work.


    "And also, Miss Heysen¡ªwait a moment, please," Richard hurriedly stopped her and handed over a document. "Please help me contact a list of hospitals around here and ask if they¡¯re willing to collaborate with Manchester City for serious injuries and general medical support."


    Miss Heysen nodded. "Any other instructions regarding the hospitals?"


    "Yes. The collaboration should last for a year. We want priority access to orthopedic surgeons or sports medicine specialists who can perform necessary procedures and rehabilitation. Also, we want a specialist doctor to be stationed at Maine Road to ensure that injured players receive proper care as soon as possible."


    Miss Heysen looked a bit surprised. "So much?"


    "Of course," Richard said.


    Securing proper medical support for his players was just as crucial as finalizing transfers or managing club operations. At the very least, he knew Manchester City couldn¡¯t rely on their own medical department right now, since it was literally empty.


    "Alright, understood," Miss Heysen said before leaving Richard alone, who continued to read the newspaper, waiting to catch some of the latest transfer news, especially since it was still the peak of the transfer window.


    However, when he saw the news, he was left speechless.


    "What happened?"


    The Mirror called it "the night football died of shame."


    The Sun ran a back-page headline: "Is this the end for the madman?"


    The Express labeled it: "Absolute thuggery in front of the children."


    Even the BBC Nine O¡¯Clock News, which featured interviews with several schoolchildren, commented: "Sir Matt Busby would have sacked him, and Brian Clough said he would have ¡¯cut his balls off.¡¯"


    "Am I missing something?"


    Richard thought for a moment before reading further, finally understanding the reason behind all the madness when he saw the images of Eric Cantona¡¯s kung-fu kick, still radiating with his exhilarating power.


    The hooligans. Four minutes into the second half, he shouted, "Fuck off back to France, you French motherfucker," with impunity. Finally, he received Cantona¡¯s re-education program¡ªa flying kick, or his vigilante kick at Shaw, followed by the satisfied flourish of a red card.


    Manchester United fined Eric Cantona ¡ê20,000 and announced that he would not play for the first team for the rest of the current football season. Cantona also faced assault charges, with a police investigation pending. However, it soon became apparent that Cantona had overwhelming support among United supporters.


    For the current season, Manchester United was desperate to catch up with Blackburn Rovers, who were five points ahead and also had a game in hand. With Cantona banned, United needed another player of his caliber to lead their attack.


    With no other options, Manchester United broke the English transfer fee record by signing Andy Cole from Newcastle United for ¡ê7 million: ¡ê6 million in cash plus 19-year-old winger Keith Gillespie, valued at ¡ê1 million.


    This marked the first time an English club made a record-breaking transfer in the middle of the season, as high-profile signings typically occur during the summer transfer window.


    Talking about the transfer window, the modern system (summer + winter) was introduced by FIFA in the 2002¨C03 season. Before that, players in English football (and most of Europe) could be transferred at almost any time during the season, up until a set deadline later in the campaign (usually March).


    Most major European leagues ¡ª including Italy (Serie A), Spain (La Liga) ¡ª had different rules and systems for transfers. However, except for La Liga, which was more restrictive compared to the summer period, all teams could conduct business whenever during the season, though it was less common.


    There is a reason why FIFA formalized and divided the transfer season into two periods: summer and winter.


    From a practical standpoint, even though clubs had the ability to make signings throughout the entire campaign, summer transfers became the dominant period for big business, while winter transfers were usually lower-profile or strategic purchases.


    Top clubs had strong squads by mid-season and were generally reluctant to make significant changes, as it is harder for players to settle into a new team in the middle of a competitive campaign. Stability was key for these clubs, so unless it was absolutely necessary, they preferred to sign players who could have a full pre-season to integrate and adjust to the team.


    Still, the season is long, and sometimes unforeseen situations like injury crises or key players underperforming require adjustments. So, from December to January, there is activity in the transfer market, though it¡¯s less active. Only a few clubs look to strengthen their squad by bringing in a backup player, young prospect, or someone who could fill an immediate gap.


    All of this has turned the summer and winter transfer windows into cultural and market phenomena, creating expectations among fans. During these periods, clubs are more willing to make moves, and the media intensifies the transfer drama.


    This is why FIFA ultimately chose these two transfer windows as the best timeline for expected activity.


    The next news revolves around Arsenal, who found themselves at the center of a bung scandal and drug controversy.


    In November, winger Paul Merson publicly admitted that he had struggled with addictions to alcohol, cocaine, and gambling. He underwent a three-month rehabilitation program before returning to his career.


    Just before Merson¡¯s return, it was revealed that manager George Graham had accepted ¡ê425,000 in illegal payments from a Scandinavian agent, who had facilitated the signings of P?l Lydersen and John Jensen three years earlier.


    If proven, this could lead to Graham being banned, forcing Arsenal to fire him and search for a new manager.


    There was also Bruce Grobbelaar, the current Liverpool goalkeeper, who was accused by the British tabloid newspaper The Sun of match-fixing to benefit a betting syndicate, after being caught on videotape discussing match-fixing.


    He was charged with conspiracy to corrupt, along with Wimbledon goalkeeper Hans Segers, Aston Villa striker John Fashanu (who had only recently signed from Wimbledon), and a Malaysian businessman, Heng Suan Lim.


    So much happened in the span of a year, and all of it was massive. Richard took a deep breath and reminded himself: Football wasn¡¯t just about sport¡ªit was also about the media, the narratives, the drama, and the spectacle.


    Everything was interconnected, and the pressure to perform on and off the pitch was immense. It wasn¡¯t just the players who had to handle the heat; the managers, the club executives, and even the fans were part of the equation.


    Time passed, and by 2:57 p.m., hundreds of City fans crowded into Bescot Stadium, home of Walsall F.C., where Manchester City were set to play an away match.


    They stood proudly, waving flags emblazoned with a red ship and the Red Rose of Lancashire¡ªsymbols of Manchester¡¯s rich heritage and the heart of the club itself.


    Of course, Richard had already arrived early. He wanted to assess the team himself, to see whether adding another midfielder was necessary for the current City squad. S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The trees outside the car window quickly blurred past. The pastures along the way were full of cattle and sheep, and green wheat on the farms swayed in the breeze.


    It was D-Day.


    The players and coaching staff sat aboard the short-distance bus from Manchester to Poundland, and soon, Bescot Stadium came into view.


    After the players stepped off the bus, O¡¯Neill and his staff approached Richard, and the first thing they said left him stunned.


    "Mike has a sprained ankle. It¡¯ll take at least two weeks to recover."


    The "Mike" he referred to was Mike Phelan¡ªCity¡¯s backup midfielder. That meant the club now had only four fit midfielders remaining!


    Richard frowned. Six midfielders out injured in the span of three weeks?


    This is not normal.


    Still, he wasn¡¯t a physio or a doctor, so he just nodded and gave O¡¯Neill a quick, reassuring hug who was clearly in a frustrated mood.


    "Anyone you want to recommend?" Richard asked.


    O¡¯Neill gave a tired nod.


    "Give me the list after the match. I¡¯ll try my best to recruit them."


    "Really?" O¡¯Neill asked, still not quite believing it.


    Richard rolled his eyes.


    "Didn¡¯t you see? We just sold one of our best players to another club for six million."


    "You mean Rivaldo?"


    Richard let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah¡ªsix goals, nine assists for Bristol City. PSV spotted that, and goddamn John went ahead and sold him without blinking."


    O¡¯Neill nodded slowly. "So that¡¯s why he was ousted?"


    Richard gave him a sideways glance. "Don¡¯t forget¡ªhe also failed to bring in Vieira, even after I gave him clear instructions. That already told me he wasn¡¯t up to the job. And on top of that, he second-guessed nearly every decision I made."


    He then gave a slight shrug. "The Liverpool¨CHitachi deal went to his head, making him think he was untouchable at City." Richard paused, then looked at O¡¯Neill, his gaze steady and serious.


    "No one is untouchable at my City. As long as you perform, you¡¯re good to go. But if you start slipping¡ª" He paused for a moment, then walked off without even turning his head. "¡ªthen you¡¯re no different than the last guy."


    Is that a threat?


    More like a warning.


    O¡¯Neill gave a small nod. He didn¡¯t need the warning¡ªhe already knew.


    This was football. Ruthless, fast-moving, and unforgiving.


    You were only ever as good as your last win.

 Chapter 128: Gossip

    Chapter 128: GossipWalsall is the hottest promotion team in the second division this year.


    New manager Chris Nicholl led the club to promotion back to the third tier in his first season, building the nucleus of a strong and underrated team. A run of four straight wins before the end of January proved that City would be facing a tough team this time.


    Thankfully, Richard¡¯s threat seemed to have worked. Or perhaps it was Richard¡¯s promise to bring in players O¡¯Neill had been eyeing after the match¡ªeither way, O¡¯Neill wasn¡¯t about to let this opportunity slip by.


    From the time the referee blew the kick-off whistle, the game fell completely into City¡¯s rhythm.


    Ronaldo, in the fourth minute of the game, zigzagged past the left-back from the left to the center and swiftly moved into the penalty area. After receiving a pass from Keith Gillespie, he used his left foot to send the ball into the opposite corner of the goal.


    His goals soon came one after another.


    In the 11th and 13th minutes of the game¡ªwithin just two minutes¡ªthe alien scored two more goals to complete his hat trick.


    A damn hat trick.


    In the second half of the game, Richard saw O¡¯Neill substitute Ronaldo with Emile Heskey¡ªa decision he praised. After all, they were already leading 3¨C0. He also hoped that City¡¯s key players would be given more rest.


    The formation soon shifted to a 4-4-2, with Solskj?r and Heskey becoming the two spearheads up front.


    Richard stood up and scanned the entire stands and the pitch. City¡¯s current style of play was a clear contrast between the two halves.


    In the first half, they relied heavily on individual skill; in the second, they became calmer and played with more stability.


    Sometimes, Richard would watch Solskjaer make a brilliant dribble and link up with Emile Heskey, delighting the crowd with a beautiful play that earned an audible "ooh" and applause.


    Richard rubbed his chin, lost in thought.


    He picked up his phone and dialed Miss Heysen.


    "Hello, Miss Heysen," he said. "Can you contact Jako, the company that makes our jerseys? Let them know we¡¯re planning a big promotional campaign for four players who are currently in the spotlight¡ªRonaldo, Roberto Carlos, Cafu, and Ole Gunnar Solskjaer. They should probably consider making special edition jerseys to meet the demand. It¡¯s going to be huge."


    "..."


    "No, don¡¯t add more jerseys to the list. Just reduce the number of jerseys for players who are injured or simply cut back on other jerseys to make room for the ones we¡¯re promoting."


    "..."


    "Yes, let them know we¡¯re planning to make them the face of the club for now. And hey¡ªthanks a lot, Miss Heysel. Sorry you¡¯ve had to deal with things that aren¡¯t really part of your job. I really appreciate it. Thanks again!"


    Let¡¯s pump up their jersey sales while the iron¡¯s still hot!


    After the win against Walsall, Richard fulfilled his promise to get the list of players O¡¯Neill wanted after the match: Gary McAllister and Jamie Redknapp, which left Richard¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡¯Are you out of your fucking mind?!¡¯ Richard wanted to curse O¡¯Neill for suggesting these names, but thankfully, O¡¯Neill explained himself first.


    Gary McAllister¡ªeveryone knew Leeds¡¯ once-strong defense and midfield were showing cracks. Key players like McAllister had contracts that were nearing their end, but Leeds weren¡¯t planning to renew them. As for Jamie Redknapp, just last year he had finally recuperated from his knee injury and was struggling to secure consistent game time at Liverpool.


    Richard sighed as he patted O¡¯Neill¡¯s shoulder. "I¡¯ll try my best, but I can¡¯t promise anything."


    It¡¯s not like City is the only club interested in them. There are still Premier League and First Division clubs that could be keen on signing them.


    Done with O¡¯Neill, Richard then turned his focus to evaluating City¡¯s overall performance. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Winning against Walsall meant adding another win to City¡¯s tally in the league.


    Sitting in fifth place, with Birmingham City, Brentford, Bristol Rovers, and Blackpool ahead, City had also made it to the FA Cup sixth round and progressed to the League Cup fourth round.


    A good result, actually, as no one expected a third-tier club to manage squeezing their way into the FA and League Cup.


    Only... the next month.


    Richard sat in his office, staring at Manchester City¡¯s fixture list for February with a serious expression.


    February Fixtures (1994):


    02/02/1994: Preston North End (Second Division)


    07/02/1994: Bury (Second Division)


    14/02/1994: Swindon Town (Second Division)


    21/02/1994: Crystal Palace (League Cup Fourth Round)


    24/02/1994: Lincoln City (Second Division)


    28/02/1994: Manchester United (FA Cup Sixth Round)


    ¡¯Two Premier League teams...¡¯ Richard thought to himself.


    There are 17 matches left in the current Second Division campaign, and technically, City would need to win every single one to secure the automatic promotion. So, it was better if City gave up on the League Cup and FA Cup.


    "These two matches could go very well¡ªor very badly. Nevertheless, it¡¯s better to be prepared," he muttered.


    Before January ended, many faxes came in inquiring about players like Ronaldo, Solskj?r, Cafu, Roberto Carlos, and Campbell¡ªbut Richard definitely blocked all transfer negotiations regarding them and protected them strictly.


    Miss Heysen then entered with a fax. "Richard, Ian Cox has received an offer from AFC Bournemouth for ¡ê500,000, Richard Edghill from Blackpool for ¡ê100,000, and Paul Dickov for ¡ê225,000."


    Ian Cox had already been placed on the transfer list, and they had been in communication with Bournemouth. As for Edghill and Dickov, both a center back and a striker respectively, their playing time had been significantly reduced with the arrival of new players last season.


    Richard wasn¡¯t going to stand in their way.


    "Has O¡¯Neill given his approval as well?" he asked.


    Miss Heysen nodded. Richard then gave his full approval for the deals without a second thought.


    Learning from his past mistake with John, who had sold Rivaldo without his consideration, Richard had now made sure that all transfers, including contract discussions, must go through him first. No matter what, he was determined to be involved in every step, even if it meant stepping in during the early stages.


    Then he turned to look out the window, where City¡¯s first team was hard at work preparing for tomorrow¡¯s match against Preston.


    "You shouldn¡¯t slack off!"


    He could even hear O¡¯Neill roaring as he led the session with fiery energy, and the players¡¯ response was, naturally, laughter.


    "Haha, yes coach!"


    "Destroy them!"


    "Yeah!!" the players shouted in unison.


    Seeing the team¡¯s high spirits, Richard leaned back in his seat, then turned to Miss Heysen, who was standing nearby.


    "Miss Heysen, please arrange a meeting with Philip Harris from Lloyds Banking Group and Taylor Smith from Barclays. Tell them I¡¯d like to discuss the repayment terms for my billion-pound loan."


    "Yes, anything else?" she asked.


    "No, that¡¯s all for now," Richard replied with a slight nod.


    The next week, Richard was back in action, working on negotiations for the potential transfers of Gary McAllister and Jamie Redknapp.


    Unbeknownst to him, his talks had already been caught by the media, causing a stir.


    The press had picked up on the possibility of high-profile moves to Manchester City, a club currently struggling in the third tier of English football.


    The media had a field day with the news, and The Sun led the charge with biting commentary and ridicule. Headlines mocked Manchester City¡¯s position, sarcastically questioning whether the likes of McAllister and Redknapp would be "saving" the club from irrelevance.


    Richard gripped the newspaper in his hand as he read through the article. It wasn¡¯t the McAllister and Redknapp issue that upset him, but rather the picture.


    Yes, the picture.


    There was a photo of Ronaldo and Roberto Carlos at the club, and beneath it, the headline read: "From Premier League to Third-Tier Nightmares." The editor then added, "Will McAllister and Redknapp be the saviors, or are they just hopping on a sinking ship?"


    The mocking tone suggested they were more interested in parties and celebrity than in football¡ªan unfair shot at his two players.


    From Richard¡¯s perspective, it was clear what the editor was insinuating to their audience: "With players like this, known for their crazy lifestyles, are they really capable of saving a struggling club?"


    Richard didn¡¯t care about most of it¡ªuntil he turned the page of The Sun.


    "FUCK!" he shouted, slamming the newspaper onto the floor as his mood instantly soured.


    A bold red headline screamed across the page, alongside a photo of Maine Road and, of course, his!


    "...PLAYBOYS!!! PARTY ANIMALS!!! IRRESPONSIBLE...!!!"


    The implication was clear as they ridiculed and even doubted City¡¯s chances of promotion, hinting at the club¡¯s reputation ¡ª along with that of its players ¡ª for enjoying parties and the high life rather than focusing on football. Even him, as the chairman, was not spared by them.


    Richard tapped his fingers on the table, his mind racing.


    Once again, City was in the spotlight.


    It was likely due to their unexpected run in the League Cup and FA Cup, which had set them on a collision course with Premier League giants.


    The media, ever eager to seize on any angle, had latched onto this story, and the news about McAllister and Redknapp was probably just the spark they needed to launch another attack.


    ¡¯The Sun...¡¯ Richard thought to himself.


    In the British newspaper industry, there is a distinction between broadsheets and tabloids.


    Broadsheets typically feature larger pages and focus on more serious news. Notable examples include The Times, The Independent, The Daily Telegraph, and The Guardian.


    On the other hand, tabloids have smaller pages and are known for publishing "sensational news"¡ªthings like gossip, social affairs, celebrity scandals, and political expos¨¦s that attract a wide readership. Major tabloids include The Sun, The Mirror, The Daily Star, and The Daily Express.


    The term "sensational news" refers to stories that are designed to grab attention and often revolve around entertainment, politics, and personal drama¡ªmuch like what is currently happening right now.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


    "Come in," Richard said, raising his head.


    The door opened, and stepping into his office were Frank Shepherd (the club¡¯s solicitor), Gordon Barry (a barrister), and Martin O¡¯Neill¡ªhis expression dark and tense.


    The first to speak was Frank Shepherd. "I saw it too. This kind of fake news, designed purely to grab attention, is typical of The Sun. I¡¯m ready to sue them¡ªif you give me the green light."


    Richard was dumfounded at this.

 Chapter 129: The Sun

    Chapter 129: The SunFor outsiders, the situation at City after Richard Maddox¡¯s takeover seemed marked by a wave of terminations and contract cancellations. Whether it was due to massive spending or something else entirely, no one could say for certain.


    One thing was clear, though¡ªRichard never shared with the media or the public why he let all those people go, and even internally, he kept his reasons close to the chest.


    Even employees were required to sign non-disclosure agreements, preventing them from speaking about anything that happened internally at City. The moment you stepped out of Maine Road, you could talk about anything¡ªexcept what went on inside the club.


    John Maddock¡¯s resignation marked a tipping point, and now, with The Sun leading in charge, everything has broken down. The lingering discontent from the Swales and Lee era has begun to resurface.


    Tony Book, Glyn Pardoe, and even the scouting department led by Peter Pettigrew began speaking out, criticizing Richard for his pettiness over minor issues.


    They openly claimed that City would never go anywhere under his leadership and mocked the club¡¯s ongoing struggles in the Second Division.


    Tony Book (former youth manager and club legend):"What¡¯s happening at this club¡ªit¡¯s not the City I knew. We used to be a family. You might not win trophies every season, but there was pride in how we treated our own. Now it feels like a numbers game, and people are just being discarded. It¡¯s disgraceful."


    Peter Pettigrew (former head scout under Francis Lee): "You can¡¯t run a football club on ego alone. It won¡¯t work. What he did to John [Maddock] was personal, not professional. That man bled sky blue for years."


    Soon, more and more people came forward and spoke out.


    Mel Machin (former manager under Peter Swales): "There¡¯s no stability left. When you keep ripping the roots out of a tree, don¡¯t be surprised when it stops growing. I don¡¯t recognize this club anymore. It used to stand for something. Now? Now it¡¯s all PR, laziness, partying, and secrecy."


    Alan Ball (former manager under Francis Lee):"I worked under John for years. The man had an eye for talent and a heart for the club. To treat him like that¡ªit¡¯s personal. And the worst part? We can¡¯t even speak freely because of some NDA. What does that tell you? If things were really fine inside, would they need to gag us?"


    Ken Barnes (former head scout under Peter Swales):"Back in my day, City stood for something¡ªloyalty, development, trust in the people who¡¯ve dedicated their lives to the club. But now? It¡¯s just chaos and control."


    And the final voice, Francis Lee:"City isn¡¯t some toy project. It¡¯s a legacy. And if Maddox thinks he can build a future by tearing down the past, then he¡¯s got another thing coming."


    After Richard saw all the newspapers, it became clear that nearly all of them had bought into The Sun¡¯s narrative. Or perhaps they had finally found a way to join the chorus, using The Sun as a shield ¡ª or maybe, they were all secretly cooperating with The Sun behind the scenes.


    Richard didn¡¯t know which.


    The first to speak was Frank Shepherd. "I saw it too. This kind of fake news, designed purely to grab attention, is typical of The Sun. I¡¯m ready to sue them¡ªjust give me the green light."


    Richard was dumfounded by this.


    "Why would you sue them?" he managed to ask.


    O¡¯Neill was the one who replied angrily. "I already spoke to Ronaldo and Roberto. Honestly, we only went there to unwind, but The Sun only took a photo when we were talking to a woman. He pointed, "It was just a polite hug, but the angle they captured it from makes it seem¡ª" He trailed off.


    "Nonetheless, they¡¯ve portrayed our players here as lazy, always partying, and uninterested in football. It¡¯s completely misleading."


    Richard nodded, understanding why they wanted to sue The Sun, but he still shook his head.


    "We cannot sue them."


    It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t have the courage or didn¡¯t want to stand up for his current players, but as someone who understood the future, especially The Sun¡¯s tactics, he knew exactly how they operated when creating sensational gossip.


    Given his status as the youngest billionaire, The Sun might even be hoping he¡¯d take the bait, initiate a lawsuit, make a big deal out of it, and turn it into a major spectacle.


    This was a trap!


    For stories like this, they relied on speculative language, using terms like "allegedly" and "reportedly" in their reports.


    Even if they were forced to issue a public apology later, it would be minor and fleeting. Considering the exposure and sales they gained, the profit was massive.That¡¯s why he knew all too well that taking action would likely play right into their hands.


    For Rupert Murdoch, the owner of The Sun, this kind of operation is fundamental to their business model.


    Without it, News Corporation wouldn¡¯t have expanded so rapidly across the globe. In addition to more advanced and efficient business methods, they rely on a strategy of digging for news when it exists and, when there¡¯s none, doing whatever it takes to "create" stories to grab attention.


    "Then what are we supposed to do? Just stay silent while my players are being wronged?"


    O¡¯Neill couldn¡¯t help but criticize Richard, frustrated by how passive he seemed in handling the situation. It was similar to how Shepherd and Barry had begun to doubt Richard¡¯s capability as the sole owner of the club. However, Richard stood firm, unwavering, and insisted that he would not take action.


    ¡¯You¡¯ve underestimated Murdoch¡¯s influence far too much,¡¯ Richard thoughts to himself, disappointed by how both the club¡¯s solicitor and barrister dismissed the power of Murdoch¡¯s influence in the UK.


    Who owns British commercial television, BSkyB (British Sky Broadcasting)?


    Who owns the most currently biggest British newspapers like The Sun, News of the World, The Times, and The Sunday Times?


    The media mogul, Rupert Murdoch.


    In fact, with his vast media empire¡ªwhich includes newspapers, television networks, and later digital platforms¡ªMurdoch¡¯s ability to influence politics is significant. Even politicians fear him, as he can launch aggressive campaigns that make or break public figures and political careers.


    His ability to sway public opinion gives him a kind of power that politicians can¡¯t easily ignore, and Richard knew he wasn¡¯t ready to go head-to-head with Rupert Murdoch.


    ¡¯But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll just sit back and accept it without saying anything,¡¯ Richard muttered to himself.


    ¡¯First, let¡¯s deal with the current problem.¡¯


    He then turned to O¡¯Neill. "Can you call Ronaldo and Roberto here? Also, please ask Cafu, William, Rio, and Ole to come as well."


    O¡¯Neill initially frowned when Richard asked to meet Ronaldo and Roberto, but when he heard the other names, he was taken aback.


    He wanted to ask what was going on, but seeing Richard already buried in the newspaper, he swallowed his curiosity and instead called Robertson, his assistant, to fetch them.


    Before long, they all arrived. Naturally, Ronaldo and Roberto were visibly on edge ¡ª because when you hear your boss¡¯s boss wants to see you, it¡¯s either a promotion... or you¡¯re about to be turned into transfer-list soup. And judging by boss¡¯s face, it wasn¡¯t good news." Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Boss, why does your boss want to meet us?" Ronaldo asked, his voice uneasy.


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s mouth twitched in irritation. "Speak properly! Just call him ¡¯Chairman.¡¯ All this boss-this, boss-that ¡ª you¡¯re making everyone confused!"


    The others chuckled at O¡¯Neill¡¯s grumbling, and Ronaldo shyly scratched the back of his head. Clearing his throat, he tried again, "Yes, yes... what does the Chairman want with us?"


    None of them realized that Richard, leaning casually against the office door, had been listening to their conversation the whole time.


    Richard nodded slightly to himself ¡ª just as he expected. O¡¯Neill¡¯s relationship with the players had always been close, almost brotherly.


    "Don¡¯t worry," O¡¯Neill said, clapping Ronaldo lightly on the back. "Just tell the Chairman the truth about what happened. Don¡¯t keep him waiting. Go on!"


    He gave both Ronaldo and Roberto a little shove toward the door. The two exchanged nervous glances before stepping forward. After all, it wasn¡¯t just anyone they were about to meet ¡ª it was Richard Maddox.


    To them, Richard was a figure of immense weight and inspiration. As the one who had personally recruited them, they were naturally curious about what kind of man Richard Maddox really was. So, while they stayed in England, they searched for information about him and admired him deeply.


    They read about how he had suffered a devastating injury, been told he would never play football again, yet had refused to give in to despair. Instead of falling into darkness, Richard had risen again, stronger than ever, carving out a new path and becoming an incredible success.


    For Brazilians like them, it was all too common to watch neighbors or close friends crumble under the weight of poverty, falling into darkness and eventually getting trapped in a cycle of drugs, crime, and despair.


    Growing up, they had witnessed firsthand how easily dreams could be crushed under the harsh realities of life in the favelas. To them, Richard Maddox¡¯s story felt like a comet ¡ª brilliant, rare, and fleeting ¡ª something so extraordinary that it almost didn¡¯t belong to the same world they came from.


    Ronaldo and Roberto walked in front of Richard, visibly fidgeting.


    When they saw Richard place the newspaper in front of them, they looked up at him, and Richard never took his eyes off them.


    Richard finally spoke, ¡¯What do you think about this?¡¯"

 Chapter 130: Let Your Goals Do the Talking!

    Chapter 130: Let Your Goals Do the Talking!What Richard showed them was a picture of Eric Cantona kicking a fan ¡ª a moment so sensational that Ronaldo and Roberto Carlos¡¯s small scandal seemed almost trivial in comparison.


    Both Ronaldo and Roberto Carlos exchanged confused glances, not fully understanding what Richard was trying to convey.


    Noticing their silence, Richard didn¡¯t mind. He simply asked them to fetch their teammates ¡ª Cafu, their fellow Brazilian, along with Campbell, Solskjaer, Gallas, and Ferdinand.


    He asked them the same question, and their answers were similar to the ones people often give.


    Things can get blown out of proportion. That incident was much worse. The media twisted and exaggerated it. It¡¯s the fan¡¯s fault, or something like that. And everyone all agreed with that.


    Richard nodded in agreement. "It¡¯s the media. They see an opportunity and jump on it. We¡¯re always under their microscope. You know that."


    Campbell, who had already experienced the Premier League environment, naturally agreed. "It¡¯s not just about football anymore, is it? Everything we do gets magnified. And no matter what, the story¡¯s always bigger than the game. It feels like we¡¯re being targeted no matter what, and they don¡¯t care about the context."


    "Exactly, and even when they twist the facts, it doesn¡¯t matter, as long as their wallets keep getting fatter." Richard said, nodding again.


    He continued, "Ferguson had been so busy reorganizing United that he genuinely didn¡¯t see the incident. He only caught the tail end and thought Cantona had been dragged into the crowd as he walked past. The language used by everyone after the game, even the police, was sufficiently ambiguous, and Ferguson thought it was the worst."


    "..."


    Seeing everyone absorbing this, Richard was satisfied. "Even when he got home, his son hinted that the apocalypse was coming." He paused for a moment before turning to Campbell. "Sol, as the most experienced here, tell me, what punishment did Cantona supposedly face?"


    Sol Campbell thought for a moment before answering honestly, "Probably a massive fine, a ban, and then the possibility of his contract being terminated."


    CLAP!


    Richard clapped his hands sharply. "Exactly! His first instinct was that Cantona had to be sacked ¡ª and the United board agreed. But later, Ferguson changed his mind and gave Cantona his full, unconditional protection. Do you know what happened after that?" Richard asked, pausing just long enough to build suspense before continuing.


    Everyone looked around at each other, now starting to see where the discussion was heading.


    "Cantona was banned by the FA until the end of the season. But do you know how Manchester United punished him internally?" Richard leaned forward, a faint smirk on his face. "Just a 36-hour suspension and a ¡ê10,800 fine ¡ª that¡¯s just two weeks¡¯ wages! That¡¯s it. And after that, he was allowed to freely roam Old Trafford again, like nothing had ever happened."


    Of course, that didn¡¯t include the police, but as long as he had Manchester United¡¯s support, Richard believed Cantona would be fine.


    Richard dropped all traces of humor and instantly turned serious.


    With a sharp flick, he tossed the newspaper ¡ª the one with Ronaldo and Roberto¡¯s photos splashed across it ¡ª onto the table.


    Instinctively, everyone straightened their backs. The others couldn¡¯t help but steal glances at Ronaldo and Roberto, who were sweating bullets despite it being goddamn cold.


    What is the worst bad trait of every footballer? The one flaw that can instantly cause a club to lose millions upon millions?


    Some might point to what The Sun once accused Ronaldo and Roberto Carlos of ¡ª being lazy, living like party animals. But does that mean Brazilian footballers are lazy by nature? S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    No, not at all.


    Brazilian footballers are far from lazy. They can be tough and hard workers if they want to be.


    The real problem is that most footballers come from humble backgrounds ¡ª poor guys who, suddenly, still in their early 20s, become rich and famous. Some of them lose focus on their true profession, which should always be football.


    Richard called them distractions.


    Yes ¡ª distractions are the deadliest enemy of every footballer. At that point, they start focusing more on girls, scandals, prostitutes, shemales, drugs, parties ¡ª and whatever else money can buy that has nothing to do with football.


    He wanted to protect everyone standing in front of him ¡ª not just them, but every player he would eventually bring to City... before, of course, milking them for trophies and selling them for millions, laughing all the way to the bank.


    "I will protect you."


    So he said that.


    It was the last thing anyone expected to hear from him, especially when they were bracing themselves for punishments or fines.


    "I don¡¯t care if you want to have fun ¡ª go partying, go wild ¡ª that¡¯s your right," Richard said, rising from his chair, his voice firm.


    "But!" He raised a finger sharply. "No fights. No scandals. No breaking team rules. No reckless behavior before matches. Respect the curfew. And most importantly..." Richard¡¯s voice dropped, his tone turning deadly serious, "Especially no stupid stuff with women that could mess up the team¡¯s reputation. You get what I¡¯m saying, right?"


    Clubbing, partying, or kind like that itself isn¡¯t automatically irresponsible. Being reckless while representing the club definitely is. For example, in the current culture of English football, everyone knows that many players are more accustomed to spending their afternoons in the pub or playing golf.


    It¡¯s just that, suddenly, The Sun decided to target them and make a fuss about it.


    The reason behind all of this was simple. This month, they were facing Crystal Palace and then Manchester United. For a media outlet with no bottom line, stirring up drama was good business. As long as people kept buying their newspapers, it was all just part of their game.


    "Just focus on your game, let your goals do the talking, let your performance shut up all their doubts," Richard said, tossing the newspaper into the trash with a sharp flick.


    BANG!


    Leaning forward, he continued, "And the rest will be handled by us¡ªor more specifically, by me," Richard said, pointing at himself. "Remember, you were all brought here by me personally, and I give you my word¡ªyou are under my protection. No one will challenge the rules I¡¯ve set here."


    "..."


    Everyone gasped, and even Campbell was stunned by this declaration.


    You must understand that the head coach of English clubs is different from other places. Here, they truly act as a manager, which means they are involved in decision-making. In contrast, in other countries, they are primarily called ¡¯coaches.


    In many countries, particularly in places like Spain, Italy, or Germany, the title ¡¯coach¡¯ is used more commonly, and the role is often more focused on training and tactical guidance. The overall strategy and decision-making might be more heavily influenced by the board or sporting directors.


    Just like Silvio Berlusconi, who heavily influenced AC Milan¡¯s transfers and the club¡¯s overall direction, Juventus was significantly influenced by their top-tier executives, Giovanni Agnelli and Luciano Moggi. At Manchester United, Sir Alex Ferguson had a more direct say in the club¡¯s transfer policy, much like how Florentino P¨¦rez later dominated at Real Madrid, or how Uli Hoene? and Franz Beckenbauer had significant sway over decisions at Bayern Munich.


    Naturally, at the end of the day, everything will change when a super manager like Pep Guardiola, J¨¹rgen Klopp, or Jos¨¦ Mourinho comes in. But at least for now, it¡¯s simply simpler and purer.


    "Alright, that¡¯s it then," Richard finally gathered everyone¡¯s attention one last time. "What I expect is your performance on the pitch. That¡¯s it ¡ª whether it¡¯s in training, in matches, or how you carry yourselves outside. As long as it doesn¡¯t involve any scandals, you can do whatever you want. Especially you."


    Richard held his finger on Ronaldo a little longer, then pointed at Roberto, Cafu, and finally swept it across the rest of them, pausing especially on the younger ones like Ferdinand and Gallas.


    The current City ¡ª who is the most important player now?


    Of course, the alien, O Fen?meno.


    Richard paid close attention to him, and of course, to the others as well. But if he¡¯s being honest, Ronaldo did have a little bit of privilege here.


    It wasn¡¯t because he wanted Ronaldo to stay at City until he retired¡ªbut as a former footballer himself, Richard couldn¡¯t help but be curious.


    He wanted to understand why Ronaldo was so much better than other strikers, so he took the time to investigate his background a little.


    Brazil has produced quite a number of generational talents that gave football a good name, from Pel¨¦ to Garrincha, down to the current Rom¨¢rio, Rivaldos, the Naz¨¢rios, later Gauchos, and all the way to future stars like Neymar, Coutinho, Firmino, and many more.


    Richard, he knew this, and that¡¯s why he paid more attention to the Brazilians.


    Football is a cheap sport there, and all you need is at least a ball. That fits well in a poor country, making it the natural selection for the boys there.


    Ronaldo, grew up in Rio, living on a hill, where there were two teams: the uphill team and Ronaldo¡¯s team at the bottom. So to summarize, to score a goal, he literally had to fight his way uphill.


    So basically he didn¡¯t just have to attack and dribble past his opponents ¡ª he had to battle gravity as well. Doing this for years built incredible explosive power. His close control came naturally, shaped by this.


    Unfortunately, the future for Ronaldo was later marred by injuries that caused him to lose his explosiveness. People regretted not being able to witness his pure samba movements on the green field anymore.


    Football is a very interesting game, but it is very much unforgiving. You can possess the greatest talent and you can be loved and cherished by millions of fans around the world, but if you don¡¯t consistently play by the rules and put out good performances, you become a goner.


    Richard closed his eyes for a moment to make a mental note about how City would handle its medical needs.


    The sudden silence left everyone in front of him confused, but Richard didn¡¯t give them a chance to let their minds wander.


    After that, he busily talked this and that before letting them leave. As for the problem with Ronaldo and Roberto and The Sun, he reassured them not to worry about it.


    Thankfully, social media hadn¡¯t advanced too much yet, so they didn¡¯t have to read all those annoying comments.


    The conversation between Richard and the others was kept internally, meaning no one knew the content of their discussion except for them.


    Soon, everyone forgot about it as match day approached.


    The big games were coming thick and fast, and City won 2¨C1 against high-flying Preston, with the Blues now just four points behind the fourth-placed team.


    In the next match, City gained another three points on Preston as they trounced The Shakers 4¨C0 at Maine Road, with Ronaldo scoring a hat-trick once again ¡ª making Richard roar along with the fans.


    The third match of February was against Swindon Town, and City once again crushed The Robins with a 4¨C0 victory, with goals from Gallas, two from Solskj?r, and one from young Emile Heskey.


    Ten goals in three matches and just one conceded.


    O¡¯Neil stared at his players with a baffled expression, even wondering if Richard had secretly slipped steroids into their drinks.

 Chapter 131: Crystal Palace

    Chapter 131: Crystal Palace"Miss Heysen, could you please turn off the radio? I can¡¯t concentrate."


    Miss Heysen, who was currently serving as Richard¡¯s temporary personal assistant, could only look at him helplessly in this state.


    "Richard, did you not go home last night?"


    If she remembered correctly, she was the first to arrive at the board office¡ªand it was barely six in the morning. Yet the lights in his office were still on, which could only mean one thing... he hadn¡¯t gone home since yesterday!


    "You should really take some time to rest, Richard," she said, looking at her boss with concern.


    Richard gave a helpless nod. He couldn¡¯t help it.


    Ever since John left, he¡¯d been forced to take on all the responsibilities that he once handled. And after firing the entire scouting team, the physios, and merging several unnecessary departments, his plate was overflowing.


    Monday, February 21st, was a busy day for Manchester City¡¯s current manager, O¡¯Neill, as they were set to face Crystal Palace in the League Cup Fourth Round.


    After a seven-day break, the players finally regained their form and were ready to face their next tough challenge ¡ª a Premier League team.


    Although Crystal Palace had struggled in the Premier League, sitting in 18th place, a Premier League team is still a Premier League team, and this match wasn¡¯t going to be easy, even if they were playing at Maine Road.


    Steve Walford, the current team coach, stepped in to revise the day¡¯s training program, focusing on conserving their stamina.


    Richard sat in the stands, planning to observe the team during training. Soon, he was joined by O¡¯Neill and his assistant, Robertson.


    They walked onto the field where his squad was already warming up. The energy was intense. Every player knew what was at stake.


    "Alright, listen up!" O¡¯Neill clapped his hands to gather their attention. "We have two choices. We can either show up, enjoy the moment, take some pictures¡ªthen get embarrassed. Or... we can go to war."


    The players exchanged looks, determination settling in.


    A Premier League team!


    For players like Gallas and Ferdinand, who were recently promoted, to Solskjaer and the three Brazilians, this was their first time facing a top-flight club.


    "Make no mistake," O¡¯Neill continued. "Crystal Palace expects to roll over us here in our home. They think we¡¯re just a nuisance for them. They think we¡¯ll freeze under the pressure of the Premier League. But remember! They¡¯re battered, struggling in the Premier League themselves!"


    He paused, his voice dropping into something more dangerous. "Let¡¯s show them they¡¯re wrong."


    Soon, the Crystal Palace bus arrived at the designated spot. Players began to step off, and Richard immediately noticed their manager, Alan Smith. His disheveled appearance and dark eyes revealed the toll that the pressure of relegation was taking on him.


    Then, the last person to step off the bus was someone very familiar to Richard.


    Chris Armstrong.


    When Richard was a youth coach at City, he had recommended four young players to Tony Book: Chris Armstrong, Rob Jones, Graeme Le Saux, and Steve McManaman.


    Richard stood up and walked toward Armstrong, greeting him with a hug.


    "How¡¯s it going?" Richard asked, smiling as he saw the familiar face.


    Armstrong grinned, clapping Richard on the back. "All good. Just the usual grind. But, you know, things have definitely changed since I was last here."


    Richard nodded, scanning the area around Maine Road. "Yeah, I can imagine. By the way, congratulations, you¡¯re about to score your 20th goal for Crystal Palace."


    "Haha, thanks, coach."


    Richard chuckled at Armstrong¡¯s use of the term coach. "I remember when I recommended you to Tony. You guys were a different breed back then. So much promise," he sighed. "But in the end, you were sold, and City got relegated."


    Armstrong¡¯s smile softened. "Those were the days. But we¡¯re still pushing forward, right? Always striving for more."


    Richard gave a slight nod. "Exactly. It¡¯s all about moving forward. Let¡¯s make sure we don¡¯t lose sight of that, no matter what."


    With their moment of nostalgia behind them, the match between Manchester City and Crystal Palace was about to kick off.


    Richard sat in the director¡¯s box, this time alone, making him fidget uncomfortably in his seat.


    In the past, this area was always filled with people, executives and other important figures all gathering here, but now, as the sole owner of City, he found himself alone. It felt like being watched, as if he were an exhibit at the zoo.


    ¡¯It seems I need to invite some people here to watch the match,¡¯ he thought to himself, realizing the emptiness of the space around him.


    Crystal Palace immediately pushed forward, asserting their dominance with sharp passing and quick movement.


    After all, their opponents were only a third-tier team, so they were confident¡ªeven though not all of their starting players were on the field.


    Chris Armstrong, as always, became the biggest threat in their front line, along with Darren Pitcher, their midfielder and the club¡¯s new signing for the season.


    They finally managed to get a chance to counterattack, but their shot hit the advertisement board behind the goalpost. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the stands, and Richard, too, clutched his chest.


    Everything was still building up to the climax.


    Goalkeeper Shay Given hurriedly placed the ball on the ground, scanning ahead. His eyes locked onto Ronaldo, who had raised his hand and slipped past his marker. Without hesitation, Given launched a long kick toward Ronaldo on the left.


    Thankfully, Pitcher, who had noticed Given¡¯s intentions, was already in position. He managed to head the ball forward, but it soon landed at the feet of Keith Gillespie.


    Gillespie quickly passed it to the nearest Roberto Carlos.


    With his overwhelming composure, he managed to keep the ball under control.


    Ronaldo, seeing the pass fail, immediately dropped back to help with the defense. However, noticing the ball at Roberto Carlos¡¯ feet, he stopped his track suddenly, then made a sharp turn and dashed in the opposite direction, catching his marker off guard. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Seeing this, Roberto Carlos slid the ball toward him, aiming for Ronaldo, who sprinted forward.


    Alan Smith instantly sensed the danger. "Hey, watch them both! Fall back, fall back!"


    Everyone knew that, in the current City squad, there was one exceptional dribbler¡ªRonaldo¡ªwho was known for his confidence. He was never afraid to take on defenders and was always looking to make something happen.


    All of Crystal Palace¡¯s players were immediately alerted to the danger. They quickly swarmed to the left, surrounding him like a swarm of bees, including goalkeeper Nigel Martyn, who yelled, "Be careful! Mark him!"


    "Carlos slid a perfect pass through to the left¡ªRonaldo is in!!" the commentator exclaimed, rising from his seat.


    Ronaldo received Roberto Carlos¡¯s beautiful pass at the left corner of the goal area, before making a dash toward the left quadrant of the penalty box. In front of him stood three Palace defenders.


    Ronaldo raised his foot... and instinctively, the three defenders reacted in unison, ready to block.


    But Ronaldo didn¡¯t shoot.


    Instead, he passed the ball into the middle of the penalty area, where it was completely open!


    All of the Palace players had been completely fooled by him!


    "Oh, there¡¯s the open space! And Solskjaer¡¯s there, waiting!!!"


    As Solskjaer dashed forward, seeing the ball pass him by Ronaldo, all the Palace players stood stunned, paralyzed¡ªincluding their goalkeeper, who foolishly kept his eyes on the ball, still tracking it as it was curled across the penalty box. Only then did he realize the danger.


    Solskjaer, without hesitation, took the shot.


    The ball flew into the net at lightning speed, hitting the middle of the goalpost.


    The crowd erupted in cheers!


    In the Crystal Palace camp, there was a mix of disbelief and frustration, as their defense had been outfoxed. The goalkeeper, still frozen in place, slapped the ground in frustration. Alan Smith, their manager, could only shake his head in disbelief at what had just transpired.


    "Just like that," the commentator said, "City takes the lead, and what a team goal that was!"


    The score stayed the same until the halftime whistle blew.


    Manchester City 1-0 Crystal Palace.


    The fans in the stands slowly dispersed, eager to make the most of the 15-minute break. They replenished their energy and took a quick trip to the bathroom, all while mentally preparing for the intense battle that awaited in the second half.


    Soon the second half began.


    Richard had barely settled into his seat for the second half when Crystal Palace came out swinging. They played faster, sharper, and more ruthlessly.


    City had expected a storm.


    But this?


    This was an avalanche.


    In the 67th minute, City¡¯s midfield¡ªJamie Pollock, Keith Gillespie, and Graham Fenton¡ªcould not withstand the onslaught as Crystal Palace pushed everyone forward. They definitely didn¡¯t want to be the first team to lose to a third-tier side!


    Pitcher intercepted a lazy pass from Jamie Pollock, and City scrambled to win the ball back.


    After receiving the pass from Pitcher, Palace¡¯s winger drifted inside, picking up the ball between the lines. They knew that City¡¯s current weakness was controlling the ball in the middle ¡ª and they were right, as Keith Gillespie and Graham Fenton stepped forward to press ¡ª too late.


    A quick turn ¡ª their right-back was free on the right flank. Roberto Carlos tried to pull his shirt but was shrugged off, and in one swift motion, the right-back fired a split-second pass to Armstrong inside the box.


    Shay Given lunged forward ¡ª but it wasn¡¯t enough to stop the tap-in.


    "GOOOAAALLL!!! Crystal Palace have equalized! Chris Armstrong strikes again!" the commentator shouted. "Oh my God, that¡¯s his twentieth goal of the season! I bet a lot of clubs will be lining up for his signature next season!"


    "Rumor has it," the co-commentator added, "Tottenham have already made contact with Crystal Palace about Armstrong!"


    This goal truly became City¡¯s nightmare, as Crystal Palace¡¯s confidence surged to the max. Maine Road was filled with tension, the nerves almost tangible.


    And then, finally, everything broke down.


    90+1 minute.


    Disaster.


    Just as the fourth official put down the electronic signage board and turned away, Palace won a free-kick deep in City¡¯s half ¡ª about 25 meters from the penalty area.


    They had already earned five free-kicks throughout the match, but the first four had all been wasted by Pitcher.


    But this time...


    As Pitcher stood over the ball, the City fans around Richard were still singing and jumping, trying desperately to distract him.


    Richard stood up from his seat in the director¡¯s box, saying nothing, his eyes locked on the field. It was precisely moments like this that made him the most nervous.


    As long as City survived this free-kick, there would be a replay ¡ª a second chance. He could then use the waiting period to bring in another midfielder, strengthening the squad and hoping for a miracle.


    If they pulled it off, City would become the first Second Division team to reach the League Cup quarter-finals this season.


    It might not be the most glamorous achievement, but a record was still a record ¡ª and it would be a huge boost to the team¡¯s morale for the rest of the campaign.


    Pitcher had his back to the jeering City fans, and there was no close-up on the big screen. Richard couldn¡¯t see the player¡¯s expression in that moment.


    The head referee blew the whistle, and Pitcher followed up with his shot.


    Richard Given barely had time to react before Pitcher let it fly!


    A rocket¡ªcurling toward the top corner.


    Richard pulled his hands to his face in frustration, his eyes wide with disbelief.


    Given sprang to his left, stretching every muscle in his body, but the ball tore through the rain, arcing over the human wall. It spun, evading his outstretched hand, before crashing into the net.


    The water beads splashed in every direction, even blurring Richard¡¯s vision as the reality of the goal set in.


    Silence.


    A moment of pure disbelief inside Maine Road.

 Chapter 132: Concept of Team of High Performance

    Chapter 132: Concept of Team of High PerformanceRichard blinked several times to confirm what he was seeing.


    As the deafening shouts echoed through the stadium, it finally hit him ¡ª City had just suffered a comeback. The cheers weren¡¯t coming from the City fans; they were from the Eagles. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Armstrong was buried under a pile of his jubilant teammates, while the commentator excitedly announced, "In the ninety-first minute! Crystal Palace, Darren Pitcher! A stunning direct free-kick goal! They¡¯ve sent Manchester City to hell! This keeps their hopes alive for a League Cup title this season!"


    The roar from the Eagles¡¯ supporters filled the seating area, rumbling like rolling thunder.


    "God damn it!" Richard forcefully punched the seat beside him, and the fans surrounding him fell silent.


    Losing in the League Cup was one thing, but suffering a comeback in the dying minutes was another. It felt like a punch to the gut. The players on the field must have been feeling the same way, and Richard couldn¡¯t shake the worry¡ªespecially with the next match looming...


    ¡¯Lincoln and the final boss, Manchester United...¡¯


    "FUCK!" Richard shouted under his breath, standing up from his seat. With a final glance at the pitch, he made his way toward the exit.


    After the match, Richard stayed in the empty room next to the changing room, intending to eavesdrop and understand the current situation.


    The defeat to Crystal Palace still hung in the air.


    City had entered the match with confidence, aiming to seal a 1-0 win against a Premier League team, only to lose it all in the dying seconds. But football was ruthless¡ªthere was no time to dwell on it.


    The second division was still in full swing, and the FA Cup sixth-round tie against Manchester United loomed large. If City wanted to keep their season alive, they had to move on.


    Martin O¡¯Neill, John Robertson (assistant), Steve Walford (coach), and Terry Gennoe (GK coach) discussed intensely before they headed into the post-match meeting.


    After everyone nodded in agreement, they collectively decided that the main priority going forward was to focus on the team¡¯s mentality.


    When they entered the changing room, it was immediately obvious.


    The players were drained. Campbell looked frustrated, Cafu barely spoke. Even Ronaldo, usually the funniest on the pitch, sat in silence with a towel over his head, his gaze lowered.


    "They¡¯re still thinking about the match," Robertson muttered as they watched the squad, clearly low-spirited.


    TAP! TAP! TAP!


    O¡¯Neill struck the locker, the sound breaking the tension in the room and echoing through the silence. The players looked up, all eyes on him as he stood at the front, arms crossed.


    "Listen up!" he said, his voice steady but filled with authority. "I know what you¡¯re all feeling right now. But don¡¯t let that defeat consume you. I get it, we were a minute away, but football is cruel¡ªyou all know that. The game doesn¡¯t care about how hard you fight or how much you deserve to win. It¡¯s what happens when the final whistle blows that matters."


    He let the words hang in the air for a moment, making sure each player was listening.


    "We¡¯re not going to sit here and mope about this. We don¡¯t have time. We¡¯ve got bigger challenges ahead. We¡¯ve got to put this one behind us¡ªnow¡ªand focus on the next match. You¡¯ve all got the quality, we¡¯ve seen it. But we need the right mentality. We need to forget about the Palace match. It¡¯s done. Finished."


    He paced in front of them, his tone softer but no less firm.


    "I want you to go home, get some rest, clear your heads. Tomorrow, we move forward. That¡¯s the only option we have. We¡¯ll be back at it, stronger, and more focused. But don¡¯t waste your energy on what¡¯s already gone."


    His eyes scanned the room, meeting each player¡¯s gaze.


    "We¡¯ve got work to do. So, let¡¯s get back to it, alright? Now, go home, take care of yourselves, and let¡¯s get ready for the next battle."


    With that, he nodded toward the door. "Dismissed."


    The next day, unlike the usual lively training sessions, the players trained in near silence. O¡¯Neill noticed it immediately.


    Robertson crossed his arms. "They need to get over it."


    O¡¯Neill nodded before clapping his hands sharply.


    "Alright, listen up!"


    The players paused and gathered around him.


    "I know that loss hurt," O¡¯Neill began. "I know it feels like we were this close to something special. But let me remind you of something."


    He locked eyes with each of them, his voice firm but steady.


    "Our main objective is promotion. Not the League Cup, not the FA Cup, not even beating Premier League teams for short-term glory. Promotion ¡ª that¡¯s the real goal."


    He paused, letting his words sink in.


    "We proved we belong at the highest level. That was a Premier League team we faced ¡ª and we pushed them to their absolute limits. That game wasn¡¯t an ending. It was just the beginning."


    A brief silence followed before a small smirk tugged at the corner of O¡¯Neill¡¯s mouth.


    "And the only way we show that wasn¡¯t a fluke is by winning the next game. So, get over it ¡ª and focus on Lincoln, lads. Come on!"


    Slowly, a few nods went around. Roberto Carlos, Cafu, and Campbell ¡ª the leaders within the squad ¡ª straightened their backs with renewed determination. Even Ronaldo let out a deep breath, a small fire reigniting in his eyes.


    The message was clear: The boss was right. It was time to move forward.


    Soon, while Richard was still working in his office, he heard shouting from outside.


    "Pass the ball!" someone yelled.


    "Get here, mate!" another voice followed, even louder.


    His pen paused for a moment, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he continued working.


    Time slipped by unnoticed as he buried himself in his tasks. After what felt like hours, Richard finally stretched, feeling the stiffness in his back and shoulders.


    He rose from his chair, grabbed a marker, and walked over to the whiteboard. With slow, deliberate strokes, he wrote ¡ª simple, yet powerful words:


    ¡ªTeam of High Performance¡ª


    As everyone know, some people in football make headlines; others work behind the scenes to make them happen.


    For example, Nottingham Forest, the way they terrorized the current Premier League, even making Manchester United and Blackburn, who were in first and second place at times, palpitate when Forest started chasing their points with results like 2-1 at Old Trafford, 4-1 at White Hart Lane, and a 7-1 win at Hillsborough.


    The key figure behind this success is the current Nottingham Forest team¡¯s High Performance department.


    Richard tapped his fingers against the table, lost in thought. Suddenly knocking on Nottingham Forest¡¯s door? That was definitely out of the question. So, how does one go about building a team like that from scratch?


    He still wasn¡¯t sure, so he immersed himself in his work once again, searching for references to learn from. Richard sighed, feeling as though he had become like Ranieri¡ªreduced to nothing more than a tinkerer.


    For the next match, City would face Lincoln City, currently ranked 18th in the second division this season.


    Richard sat in the Maine Road director¡¯s box, filled with anticipation for the match, looking forward to securing a victory.


    And the result was?


    Sixteen minutes into the match, Ronaldo put City ahead with an early goal. The atmosphere at Marine Road was electric, filled with roaring excitement.


    However, just four minutes later, Lincoln¡¯s defensive midfielder, Tom Bayliss, capitalized on a corner kick to equalize. It was his first goal of the season.


    The cheers from Marine Road quickly died down. From there, City, buoyed by the support of the fans, launched a determined offensive against Lincoln¡¯s goal.


    The beleaguered manager of the away team was forced to make three consecutive substitutions, switching his offensive players for defensive ones, as his players insisted they would at least secure a point from this away match.


    And after the 81st minute, his dream came true. It was essentially a counterattack, with Lincoln placing nine players in front of their goalkeeper and one player waiting up front, ready for a change.


    Manchester City maintained control throughout the match, boasting 68% ball possession, 14 shots on goal, seven corner kicks, and nine free kicks.


    These statistics reflected their offensive style of play, yet they had managed to score only one goal.


    In contrast, Lincoln had just four shots on goal and a mere 32% possession. The only area where they outperformed City was in fouls, committing 29 in total. Despite being jeered by the City fans and humiliated as "cowards," they left the stadium victorious, smiling as they secured their precious point, taking another step toward staying in the league.


    This result left many fans extremely disappointed, and Richard was equally upset. He could even hear jeers coming from the stands. This was a warning to O¡¯Neill that, if there were no improvements, he would soon lose the support of the fans.


    With this result, City has now played 30 matches in the second division, and the winners ¡ª along with the promoted team ¡ª will soon be determined after another 16 matches.


    1. Birmingham City - 59 Points (Promotion to the First Division)


    2. Brentford - 55 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)


    3. Bristol Rovers - 51 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)


    4. Manchester City - 49 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)


    5. Blackpool - 48 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)


    6. Wycombe Wanderers - 45 Points

 Chapter 133: Preparing for the Impossible

    Chapter 133: Preparing for the ImpossibleManchester City had faced challenges before.


    But this?


    This was the ultimate test ¡ª the first after Richard¡¯s takeover, and after so long, it was their moment to prove themselves.


    Manchester United, widely regarded as the best team in England, awaited them in the FA Cup Third Round.


    Sir Alex Ferguson¡¯s Manchester United, with its perfect blend of youthful energy, seasoned experience, and offensive brilliance, had solidified their place as one of the most formidable teams in the current Premier League. They were an undeniable force, feared by everyone.


    And nobody ¡ª absolutely nobody ¡ª gave Manchester City a chance.


    This was the perfect moment for the media and the "flies" to downplay City¡¯s chances. The football world had already written the match off.


    The Mirror: "A routine win expected for Manchester United as they face second-division side Manchester City."


    The Guardian: "City stands no chance. This Manchester derby already has its winner."


    The Sun: "Manchester Derby Joke! Manchester United vs. Second-division Manchester City? A training exercise for United. Richard Maddox will be responsible for it!"


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched at this. Usually, when something happened, it was always the team or the manager who made the headlines. But why was his name the one being dragged into it?


    The entire world seemed to expect City to crumble before the might of United, especially those "flies," the annoying ones, City¡¯s past legends, and even those currently dissatisfied with how Richard was running the club.


    "United will put four past them by halftime. If City can even hold on until halftime, it¡¯ll be a miracle." Tony Book gave his commentary, his voice filled with conviction as a pundit.


    "I¡¯d be shocked if they don¡¯t score at least seven." Petter Pettigrew, the most vocal of the bunch, was blunt in his assessment. "City will be demolished," he added with a firm shake of his head.


    "This is a complete mismatch." Ken Barness, ever the tactful commentator, offered his take. He shook his head slightly, his tone steady as he spoke, highlighting the disparity between the two teams.


    Richard read every headline. He heard the pundits laughing and saw the fans predicting a five- or six-goal loss.


    He shook his head.


    The Manchester derby was no longer the passionate rivalry that seeped into every pore of the city, though it still held the thrilling power to defy rationality.


    United, it¡¯s no surprise people support them, as City is currently stranded in the third tier and still fighting for playoff promotion.


    Richard then opened the document listing the current United squad.


    Goalkeeper: Schmeichel


    Defenders: Denis Irwin, Steve Bruce, Gary Pallister, Gary Neville


    Midfielders: Lee Sharpe, Roy Keane, Paul Scholes, Ryan Giggs


    Forwards: Andy Cole, Brian McClair Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Subs: Gary Walsh, Mark Hughes, Graeme Tomlinson, Nicky Butt, Andrei Kanchelskis, Paul Ince, Phil Neville, David May


    Richard exhaled.


    How do you survive against a team that dominates every single opponent they face?


    Defend deep. Stay compact. Hit them on the counter.


    And Richard was right. The current training session for Manchester City, tailored by O¡¯Neill, is focused on the only way to survive.


    All the coaching staff began with a brutal defensive drill. The players were split into two teams¡ªone defending, one attacking.


    The defending side couldn¡¯t leave their half. The attacking side had unlimited possession.


    Goal?


    The defenders had to hold their shape, block passing lanes, and stop any shots.


    Richard looked out from his office at the ongoing training session.


    "You cannot panic. You cannot lose focus!" O¡¯Neill roared. "This isn¡¯t about skill anymore. This is about mentality. We fight for every tackle, every second, every blade of grass."


    Two days passed, and soon it was time for the preparation to face the giants, United.


    Matchday was approaching, and O¡¯Neill faced the media. It was different from the usual City interviews¡ªthis time, the room was packed. Every major football outlet had sent reporters.


    The first question came from The Sun.


    "Martin, your team is facing the biggest club in England. Compared to City, you stand no chance. Do you realistically think Manchester City has a chance?"


    What kind of question was that?


    Telling his team they stood no chance, but then asking if they still had a chance? O¡¯Neill was confused for a moment, but he stayed professional.


    He leaned forward, gripping the microphone.


    "Football is played on the pitch, not on paper."


    The room fell silent.


    The Sun reporter¡¯s eyes lit up. "So, you believe you can win?"


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s voice remained steady. "I believe that when the whistle blows, it¡¯s 11 vs. 11. I believe we will fight. I believe that nothing is impossible in football."


    Richard, standing at the entrance, shook his head. O¡¯Neill had taken the bait.


    "Let¡¯s see what happens when they step onto the pitch."


    Old Trafford was a fortress. Fifty thousand Red Army fans filled the air with chants, fully expecting a one-sided demolition.


    "Glory, Glory Man United~ Glory, Glory Man United~"


    The energy in the stadium was different. This wasn¡¯t a League Cup game against Manchester City. This was a full-strength, Early Fergie¡¯s Fledglings, the best team in England, playing at home.


    Different from the current Manchester Road director¡¯s box, Old Trafford didn¡¯t have things like that ¡ª VIP boxes or special viewing platforms. That made Richard promise that the moment City built their own stadium, he would create a viewing platform like that, the most luxurious one.


    Soon, both teams began walking onto the pitch, and Richard had a bad feeling about it.


    ¡¯Ronaldo, why is he so pale...?¡¯


    He couldn¡¯t help but grab his phone amidst the roaring crowd, trying to reach O¡¯Neill or anyone who could give him an answer.


    The phone was finally picked up.


    "Hello? HELLO?"


    Richard opened his mouth to speak but quickly realized that even he couldn¡¯t hear himself over the deafening noise.


    The atmosphere was far more intense than anything he¡¯d experienced at City, watching them steamroll their opponents.


    United¡¯s fans were on their feet, cheering passionately for their players. Richard raised his hands in the air too, but he wasn¡¯t cheering for the opposition. Instead, he was shouting and cursing at the top of his lungs.


    It was pure chaos. He wasn¡¯t concerned about causing a scene, knowing the people around him couldn¡¯t hear a word he was saying.


    ¡¯That damn Old Trafford security system! How can these fans be considered safe?""God damn it! United fans aren¡¯t friendly at all!¡¯


    After he finished grumbling, Richard sat down and watched the match. The people around him must have thought he was a very ardent fan of Manchester United.


    The match kicked off on time at two o¡¯clock in the afternoon. As soon as the referee blew the whistle, Old Trafford erupted like a cauldron. He could barely hear anything except the deafening screams of the home crowd.


    O¡¯Neill had set up a deep defensive block¡ªa 5-4-1 formation designed to absorb pressure and break on the counter, trusting Ronaldo¡¯s freedom and creativity to break down United¡¯s defense. But the problem was...


    They were suffocated, especially the current Ronaldo.


    Since yesterday, Manchester¡¯s weather had been relentless rain, and the temperature was bitterly cold, making the roar of Old Trafford feel dizzying.


    City was essentially playing 10 vs. 11.


    Add to that Sir Alex Ferguson¡¯s attacking philosophy¡ªthey strangled the game.


    Scholes would collect the ball from deep, scanning the pitch like a general commanding his troops. Both Roy Keane and Ryan Giggs would always drift between the lines, always an option, always moving.


    For a full minute, the ball didn¡¯t leave City¡¯s half.


    United recycled possession, shifting it from left to right, waiting, probing, searching for the smallest gap.


    At first, City players kept their shape, shifting as a unit.


    But how long could they keep this up?


    4th Minute


    Then, the first real crack appeared.


    Ryan Giggs glided across the midfield like a ghost, receiving the ball from Scholes just outside the box.


    He feinted left, then quickly slipped a disguised pass into Andy Cole, who had penetrated from the center and was already deep in City¡¯s penalty box.


    He looked up¡ªand let fly.


    A venomous, curling shot aimed for the far corner.


    For a brief second, time seemed to slow.


    The Old Trafford crowd held its breath.


    Given exploded off his line, reading the shot instantly. He stretched, diving full length to his right, arms extended. The ball curled¡ªjust enough to¡ªBoom.


    Old Trafford erupted.


    4th Minute.


    Yes, just four minutes in, and there were still 86 minutes for City to survive the onslaught.

 Chapter 134: Mismanagement Case

    Chapter 134: Mismanagement CaseRichard opened his eyes to the familiar ceiling of the place he was staying in Manchester.


    Slowly, he got up and began his usual morning routine¡ªnothing special, just the normal things.


    No work.


    No football.


    After locking his room door, he took a deep breath. Yesterday, around the 60th minute of the match, something bad had happened. Very bad.


    Ronaldo had collapsed.


    He had suffered a sudden seizure right in the middle of the match and had to be carried off on a stretcher.


    Without wasting a second, Richard jumped into his Porsche and sped off toward Wythenshawe Hospital¡ªone of the busiest and most highly-rated hospitals in North West Manchester, and the one Manchester City currently collaborated with.


    Expensive, yes. But worth every penny.


    Eighteen-year-old Ronaldo simply couldn¡¯t handle the pressure of Old Trafford.


    Normally, his ability to stay calm under pressure was one of his greatest assets¡ªhe was the kind of player who could score crucial goals when it mattered most. But this time, perhaps because he was too excited¡ªor because the burden felt too heavy when City collapsed just before the second half began¡ªthe overwhelming pressure finally got to him.


    As Richard drove, memories flooded his mind¡ªparticularly that infamous moment during the 1998 World Cup Final against France, when Ronaldo suffered a convulsive fit just hours before kickoff.


    Despite being included in the starting lineup, he looked visibly off his game and was unable to make an impact. Brazil lost the match 3¨C0, and it was later revealed that Ronaldo had suffered a seizure caused by pressure and stress.


    The incident remains one of the most memorable moments in World Cup history and one of football¡¯s greatest mysteries. Richard couldn¡¯t help but remember how the exact same scene seemed to have happened just yesterday.


    ¡¯Butterfly effect?¡¯ Richard thought to himself.


    The problem was that, according to the media after the World Cup, Ronaldo had experienced ¡¯flailing arms¡¯ and whole-body convulsions before the match. This time, however, the collapse happened in the middle of the match.


    After parking his car at Wythenshawe Hospital, Richard hurried inside. He pressed the elevator button and went up to the fifth floor, heading straight to the room where Ronaldo was recovering.


    It was still too early for regular visiting hours, but Richard didn¡¯t care. He knocked softly on the door, then pushed it open.


    Inside, he saw Ronaldo sitting on the hospital bed, staring blankly at the wall ¡ª a young man lost in his own despair. His eyes were hollow, filled with confusion and shame. It took a moment before he even noticed Richard entering.


    When he finally snapped back to reality, he looked genuinely startled.


    "What¡¯s the matter?" Richard joked lightly, trying to break the heavy atmosphere. "Surprised your boss¡¯s boss came to check on you?"


    Only after hearing Richard¡¯s voice did Ronaldo truly seem to wake up. He scrambled to sit up straighter and stammered, "B-Boss¡ª no, Sir!"


    Richard chuckled and waved his hand dismissively as he took a seat beside the bed. "Just call me Richard. Or Mr. Richard, or Chairman as usual, or whatever you prefer."


    He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice into something more gentle.


    "How are you feeling?"


    Ronaldo hesitated. His fingers gripped the sheets tightly, and for a long moment, he couldn¡¯t find the words. Finally, he whispered, "I... I let everyone down, didn¡¯t I?"


    Richard sighed softly, "No, you didn¡¯t."


    "But... the match¡ªI..." Ronaldo¡¯s voice cracked, shame flooding every word. His young face twisted in self-blame.


    Richard shook his head. "You¡¯re not a machine. You¡¯re human. What happened wasn¡¯t weakness¡ªit was pressure, stress. And that¡¯s okay."


    Ronaldo¡¯s still jaw clenched in frustration.


    "I¡¯m supposed to be strong. I¡¯m supposed to carry the team," Ronaldo muttered, his voice heavy with self-doubt.


    "No, you¡¯re not!" Richard instantly became serious. "Football is always about teamwork. No one expects you to carry the weight alone. You¡¯ve got Roberto Carlos and Cafu beside you, Solskj?r up front, Campbell, Gallas, and Ferdinand in the back to cover you. You¡¯re not alone in this."


    Richard paused for a moment, making sure Ronaldo was listening. "And do you remember what I told you? That I¡¯ll always back you up?"


    The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Outside, the world seemed a million miles away, irrelevant.


    "You¡¯re still young. Setbacks like this are part of the journey," Richard said quietly. "Do you think Eric Cantona or Roy Keane never faced moments like this? Do you think even the legends walked their paths without stumbling?"


    "..." Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Of course, it wasn¡¯t easy to convince the young man.


    Draws, losses, own goals, injuries, goal droughts ¡ª these are all part of a striker¡¯s journey. But collapsing in the middle of a match? And during a Manchester Derby, with all eyes on him, not just in England, but across the Europe?


    That almost drove him crazy!


    While the room remained silent, Richard, who had been studying the man in front of him, suddenly noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A newspaper lay beside him, forgotten on the bed.


    His eye twitched. He could barely believe it. He picked it up and opened it, his eyes scanning the headline.


    The Mirror: "City CRUSHED by United ¡ª 5-0 Nightmare! Second Division Team Meets Footballing Reality."


    The Guardian: "Manchester United Dominates in Derby Rout, City on the Brink of Crisis."


    ¡¯5-0...¡¯ Richard thought to himself, the weight of the score heavy on his mind.


    He left Old Trafford early. The moment he saw Ronaldo collapse, he didn¡¯t hesitate¡ªhe stood up and followed. He was there through the chaos, all the way to the hospital. This wasn¡¯t just a player on the pitch; this was an asset worth tens of millions.


    And Richard had no intention of letting his treasure crumble before its value reached its peak.


    His brow furrowed deeper as he read the newspaper.


    The Sun: "City¡¯s Young Prodigy or a Publicity Stunt? Ronaldo¡¯s Health Crisis Exposed!"


    It continued, "Third-tier Manchester City¡¯s so-called ¡¯wonder boy¡¯, Ronaldo, was thrown into the cauldron mere hours after suffering a seizure, raising serious questions about his management team¡¯s priorities. A scene so distressing, it would make any sane person question why City allowed him to take the field while visibly unwell. Was this a tragic misjudgment? Or was it simply another case of a club more obsessed with their own image than their players¡¯ well-being?"


    ¡¯The Sun again? Why does it feel like they¡¯re intentionally targeting City?¡¯ Richard muttered, growing increasingly confused.


    Sure enough, once again, The Sun¡¯s opening remark only made Ronaldo¡¯s inclusion in the team all the more baffling ¡ª and, of course, conspiracy theories quickly abounded.


    "Was the pressure of the derby too much for this ¡¯future star¡¯?"


    "An embarrassing display on the pitch raises the question..."


    "How much longer can this circus of mismanagement continue before someone steps in to protect their athletes?"


    "A nation notorious for its deifying of individual players went into a predictable meltdown; this was not supposed to happen."


    What gave Richard a headache were the accusations leveled at the CBF (Brazilian Football Confederation), who ¡ª based on little more than speculation ¡ª were assumed City to have forced the young man to play.


    "Madness," one Brazilian critic sneered in a scathing broadcast. "Richard Maddox gutted City¡¯s physio department, and now it¡¯s come back to haunt him. Our Brazilian starlet was thrown onto the pitch without proper medical clearance¡ªforced to perform when he should¡¯ve been recovering."


    Richard frowned at this. No wonder Ronaldo was downcast; even the CBF had been alerted. Not only him, but City was also in a passive situation if they didn¡¯t take action. If governing bodies from other nations expressed their dissatisfaction with City, there was a higher likelihood that the case could even escalate to a congressional level.


    "Just focus on your recovery, don¡¯t worry. Like I said, trust me, alright? I will handle this for you, and you will prove all of them wrong on the pitch, alright?"


    Ronaldo nodded gratefully at this, but still couldn¡¯t help feeling uneasy in his heart. After all, this was related to his career. He groaned softly as he looked toward his phone, which he had purposely turned off. He guessed that, as soon as it was active again, he would be bombarded with messages and missed calls.


    For the next few days, Richard was consumed by the "mismanagement issue" that had rocked City, leaving him unable to attend their matches at the stadium. However, he stayed on top of the news, keeping track of the internal updates.


    If he had to sum it up, he¡¯d say the Blues had hit the self-destruct button, losing 2-1 at home to Wycombe and effectively ruling out any chance of automatic promotion and City¡¯s place in the play-offs was confirmed as they drew 2-2 at Bristol Rovers.


    February and early March 1995 were a rough stretch for City


    Brutally knocked out by Manchester United in the FA Cup, followed by a comeback loss to Crystal Palace in the League Cup. Now, a loss and a draw have led to the following change in positions


    Birmingham City - 64 Points (Promotion to the First Division)


    Brentford - 60 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)


    Bristol Rovers - 57 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)


    Blackpool - 53 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)


    Manchester City - 50 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)


    Wycombe Wanderers - 49 Points


    The points gap between Manchester City and Wycombe had narrowed to just one, piling the pressure on O¡¯Neill and his squad.


    The sting ran deeper than just league standings¡ªthis was personal. O¡¯Neill had left Wycombe earlier in the season to join City, and if Wycombe finished above them and secured promotion while City fell short, the humiliation would be impossible to ignore. The press would have a field day, and O¡¯Neill knew it.


    To make matters worse, tensions within the club were rising. Rumors were flying, and finger-pointing had begun. Accusations were being tossed around, many laced with bias, with no clear facts to anchor them¡ªonly speculation and suspicion.


    Standing across from O¡¯Neill in the dimly lit office, Richard finally broke the silence.


    "Focus on promotion. No excuses. No distractions. I expect City to be in the First Division next season."

 Chapter 135: When Pressure Becomes Power

    Chapter 135: When Pressure Becomes PowerThe day after the 5-0 thrashing by Manchester United, something felt off.


    Unlike the usual uproar from City fans, there were no protests, no angry parades in front of Maine Road.


    It was quiet. Too quiet.


    There were no supporters gathering outside like they had during the protests against the Lee Consortium¡ªsomething Richard had experienced before.


    The security team and staff breathed a sigh of relief. But those accustomed to handling high-level crises knew better. This silence wasn¡¯t peace¡ªit was the sign of something deeper, something far worse brewing within Manchester City.


    The usual laughter and banter in the locker room? Gone.


    The confidence that had carried City through January? Shattered.


    O¡¯Neill arrived at the changing room and found his players had already finished warming up.


    No one spoke much. Heads were down. Movements were mechanical. The weight of the defeat still hung heavy over them.


    Robertson, his assistant, leaned in and whispered, "Still shook by what happened."


    Indeed, for someone like Campbell and other seasoned veterans, maybe they could compose themselves. But for newly promoted players like Gallas, Ferdinand, Gillespie, and others, it was a different story.


    O¡¯Neill nodded grimly. He had expected this. Losing was part of football¡ªbut getting humiliated in a derby, in front of thousands? Seeing your teammate collapse mid-game?


    That kind of defeat left a scar. The kind that made you question everything¡ªyourself, your teammates, even the shirt on your back.


    O¡¯Neill clapped his hands, snapping the room out of its haze.


    "Right, lads," he said, pacing slowly in front of them. "I¡¯ve seen more life in a library after closing time. What is this¡ªCity or a funeral procession?"


    A few players let out quiet chuckles, but most still stared at the floor.


    "I know what you¡¯re thinking," O¡¯Neill continued, voice softening. "You¡¯re embarrassed. Frustrated. Maybe even wondering if this whole thing¡¯s slipping away. If you¡¯re good enough. If I¡¯m good enough."


    He let the silence settle, then added with a smirk, "Well, if you¡¯re expecting me to resign, I¡¯ve got bad news¡ªI¡¯ve already paid rent through June."


    A ripple of laughter. Heads began to lift.


    "Good," he said, more serious now. "Because that feeling in your gut¡ªthat sting? That¡¯s not shame. That¡¯s fire. That¡¯s the game telling you: ¡¯Get up, or stay down forever.¡¯ And we¡¯re not the type to stay down, are we?"


    He stepped closer to the squad.


    "You saw what happened to Ronaldo. You saw what it did to all of us. But he played because he believed in this team. He knew we had something special. So we honor that¡ªnot by sulking, but by fighting for every last point."


    He looked around the room, meeting each player¡¯s eyes one by one.


    "There are 14 games left. That¡¯s 14 chances to prove we¡¯re not some tabloid punchline. That we¡¯re Manchester bloody City. So let¡¯s win for Ronaldo. Let¡¯s win for ourselves. And let¡¯s remind the league why they should fear sky blue."


    Hearing this, Campbell clenched his fists. No way he had left a Premier League club to captain a third-division side just to fail at promotion. That would be a humiliation he couldn¡¯t live with.


    He exhaled sharply, wiped his face, then stood up and roared: "That¡¯s right, lads. We¡¯re not going down like this! If we¡¯re bleeding, they¡¯d better be ready to bleed harder. We finish what we f***ing started!"


    The players slowly stirred.


    "Yeah!" Campbell shouted, voice rising. "They embarrassed us¡ªhumiliated us in front of the whole country. So what? We show ¡¯em you don¡¯t bury this team¡ªnot without a fight!"


    Boots thudded on the floor. Cafu clapped hard. "F***!"


    Everyone¡¯s eyes widened. Even the most disciplined, composed Cafu had cursed?!


    Ferdinand grinned and bumped shoulders with Gallas.


    "I like this," he said before standing up as well. "Let¡¯s go!"


    "Come on, City!"


    Now even the youngest stood up first¡ªno way the veterans were going to be outdone.


    O¡¯Neill stood back, arms crossed, a smile tugging at his lips.


    "Much better," he muttered. "Now go out there and play like you remember who the hell you are."


    For the first time since that crushing loss, the room felt like a team again.


    Alive. Ready.


    Richard leaned against the outside of the changing room wall, a smile tugging at his lips as he heard the chaos inside. He knew he hadn¡¯t made the wrong choice in picking O¡¯Neill.


    Every head coach has his own approach to connecting with players. Mourinho thrives on making them feel it¡¯s them against the world, while Ferguson¡¯s fiery hairdryer treatment and old-school gangster mentality are legendary. Ancelotti keeps it calm, with his mantra of ¡¯I don¡¯t have a problem with any player,¡¯ and Benitez? Well, he believes players should be like emotionless robots. In short, every coach has his own style of managing the locker room.


    As for O¡¯Neill, he is often described as having a ¡¯Midas touch¡¯ due to his ability to inspire teams to success. He¡¯s known for using humor and inspirational words in his team talks, tailoring his approach to each situation. Of course, the current O¡¯Neill is still far from that level, but that¡¯s okay. This was enough


    ¡¯Back to work.¡¯ He smiled to himself.


    Losing the FA Cup and League Cup? It didn¡¯t matter anymore. Now, the focus was clear: the league. Promotion. No excuses. A Crucial Run of League Games.


    For the upcoming matches in March, April, and May, City will have a packed schedule


    March: Darlington, Cambridge United, Macclesfield Town, Birmingham City


    April: Wigan, Hull City, Peterborough United, Stockport County, Notts County


    May: Swansea City, Leyton Orient, Bradford City, Colchester, Rotherham United


    KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK


    There was a knock at the door. Miss Heysen stepped in, holding a report in her hands¡ªdata from the recent matches against Wycombe and Bristol Rovers.


    "What is it, Miss Heysen?" Richard asked, looking up from his desk.


    "Richard, you¡¯d better take a look at this," she said, handing him the document.


    Richard scanned the report, then let out a slow sigh, rubbing his temples. The figures spoke for themselves. The last game against Bristol Rovers would be remembered for all the wrong reasons¡ªMaine Road had just recorded its lowest-ever attendance: a mere 3,007.


    Richard looked up. "Miss Heysen, please call Martin, Mr. Shepherd, and Mr. Barry for me."


    Soon after, O¡¯Neill arrived with Frank Shepherd (club¡¯s solicitor) and Gordon Barry (barrister) entering Richard¡¯s office.


    "O¡¯Neill, how¡¯s the squad doing? And what¡¯s Ronaldo¡¯s condition?"


    "Everything so far is still manageable. Ronaldo has even started training again and will likely be ready for the next match. It¡¯s just that..."


    "What is it?"


    "It¡¯s just... it would be best if we could stabilize the situation quickly. You know, in the last two matches, there¡¯s been no difference between playing home or away¡ªCity¡¯s voice is always drowned out."


    Richard nodded, fully understanding the situation. The season was nearing its end, and the fight for promotion had become brutal. With Swansea City, Wigan, and Hull City all looking to squeeze themselves into the top spots, every remaining match was now a fierce battle. The role of fan support was crucial during times like these.


    "Also..." O¡¯Neill hesitated.


    "What?" Richard asked, squinting.


    O¡¯Neill sighed before explaining. It¡¯s basically coming from the Brazilians. Something was bothering them¡ªand it all had to do with their position in the national team.


    There were rumors circulating, mainly about the CBF¡¯s involvement, but nothing solid. It seemed like whispers, but the uncertainty was enough to stir unease among them. They were basically wondering if they were at risk of being sidelined or replaced. Some local pundits and critics even suggested it would be better for them to join another club rather than stay with a third-tier team like City.


    Richard didn¡¯t answer at first. He looked toward Shepherd and Barry. "What do you think?"


    "For the CBF? Even if they¡¯re true, there¡¯s nothing to worry about," Shepherd said with a sneer. "What can they really do? Sure, they can make threats¡ªbut they don¡¯t have any real power to act on them."


    "And the pundits and critics?" He paused, thinking for a moment. "Honestly, I¡¯m about 80% sure they¡¯re just mouthpieces for the CBF. They¡¯re playing a dangerous game."


    That caught Richard¡¯s attention. He leaned in, intrigued. "Go on¡ªtell me more."


    Shepherd began to explain the situation, and what Richard hadn¡¯t expected was that the attacks on Manchester City were far from random¡ªthey were part of a calculated political strategy.


    The more Richard heard, the deeper his frown grew.


    At the heart of it all were two powerful figures: Ricardo Terra Teixeira, the recently elected president of the CBF, and Jo?o Havelange, who was campaigning for re-election as FIFA president ahead of the 1994 vote.


    A financier by profession, Ricardo Terra Teixeira had no prior experience in sports administration. However, by marrying the daughter of Jo?o Havelange¡ªFIFA president since 1974¡ªhe was able to secure the position of CBF president, succeeding Oct¨¢vio Pinto Guimar?es.


    "So, essentially, this is all about Havelange getting re-elected?" Richard asked.


    Shepherd nodded. "A hundred percent sure."


    It¡¯s a textbook tactic¡ªmixing football with politics to rally support.


    As everyone knows, Brazil is a football-obsessed country. Ronaldo, Cafu, and Roberto Carlos had all made names for themselves at major clubs like Cruzeiro, Palmeiras, and Santos. Then there¡¯s City, a bottom-tier, that somehow got lucky enough to sign all of them.


    Richard couldn¡¯t help but admire their strategy¡ªit was clever, even if morally dubious.


    "To protect Brazilian talent from a team like Manchester City? What a load of crap," he muttered, shaking his head as he flipped through the Brazilian newspaper Shepherd had brought.


    Havelange embarked on an intense lobbying mission, with the aim of securing votes from the Confederation of African Football (CAF), Asian Football Confederation (AFC) and the Central American, North American and Caribbean Football Confederation (CONCACAF).


    The problem was that his son-in-law had suddenly become president of the CBF. Who could honestly say that nepotism isn¡¯t at play here?


    This created hesitation among the confederations. Even if they had already made deals, there needed to be a breakthrough for them to give their vote, ensuring there would be no backlash later on.


    Nepotism is undeniably problematic, but in the current climate¡ªwhere the media is still relatively underdeveloped¡ªthis issue was less damaging compared to corruption. Living in Brazil, what¡¯s the best way to restore a tarnished reputation?


    Football.


    "So he wants to play the protector, huh?" O¡¯Neill nodded, finally getting the gist of it.


    "Or at least it helped him cover up the controversy surrounding his son-in-law¡¯s election," Gordon Barry chimed in.


    "Isn¡¯t there anything we can do to resolve this as quickly as possible? They¡¯ve been too noisy lately?" Richard then asked seriously¡ªthis wasn¡¯t a casual question; it was a direct and urgent inquiry to both of them.


    How to silence the Brazilian Football Confederation.


    Of course, Richard had no intention of jeopardizing his relationship with the CBF, especially since he planned to sign more Brazilian players in the future. Escalating the situation would only make things worse. Still, their constant noise was becoming unbearable.


    With the CBF constantly yapping and The Sun fanning the flames, the situation from the outside looked like City was crumbling¡ªthough in reality, it wasn¡¯t.


    Richard naturally wanted to dismiss it all first, but based on the last two performances, it was clear the noise had started to affect the players and their performance on the pitch.


    Forbidding players from reading the newspapers? Impossible. He couldn¡¯t monitor them 24 hours a day.


    And the fans¡ªthey were also waiting for answers. The low attendance figures likely reflected their stance.


    It was as if they were silently asking, "So what now? Do you still want to keep quiet?"¡ªa challenge directed at him as the new owner. This was, in essence, a test. A moment to prove how capable the club¡¯s new ownership truly was in facing a crisis like this.


    Shepherd gave Richard a list of ways he could handle the crisis¡ªlegal and PR countermeasures to manage media damage, issuing a public statement or press release, fan re-engagement tactics, letting the manager and players do the talking, and even threatening legal action.


    Textbook crisis control.


    Too neat. Too clean. Too safe. Richard shook his head as he scanned the list Shepherd had handed him.


    Seeing Shepherd run out of ideas, Richard turned toward Barry, hoping he would have a more unconventional approach to handle the situation.


    After all, as barristers, they were typically engaged when cases escalated to litigation or required specialist advocacy¡ªquite different from Shepherd, who handled the day-to-day administrative legal work.


    Barry paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. "The CBF is tough, but that doesn¡¯t mean there¡¯s no way to handle them."


    He began outlining a strategy to make the CBF quiet down.


    "..."


    Richard, O¡¯Neill, and Shepherd were stunned. Even Miss Heysen, who had been silent up until then, was wide-eyed, staring at him as if he had lost his mind.


    "Hahahahaha."


    That was until Richard burst out laughing, realizing just how funny it all seemed. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 136: How to Make Them Shut Up (First)

    Chapter 136: How to Make Them Shut Up (First)The CBF had become a major distraction for the Brazilian trio, while The Sun continued to disrupt the team¡¯s momentum with unnecessary rumors¡ªespecially those surrounding Ronaldo¡¯s recent collapse. The club needed to manage the situation carefully before it escalated to the FA or even Parliament.


    And the target Richard set was clear.


    "One week," Richard said firmly to the three people standing before him. "I¡¯m only asking each of you to complete your tasks within one week."


    Everyone was caught off guard by the demand, but no one dared to question him¡ªnot while he was in this furious state.


    They nodded seriously, especially Gordon Barry, who had proposed the idea in the first place. He was thrilled that Richard had finally given him the green light.


    The next match was against Darlington.


    As usual, O¡¯Neill¡¯s son arrived early at the Maine Road press conference room. He took his seat at the front, his eyes scanning the modest group of reporters scattered throughout the room.


    But this time, something felt different. A major national newspaper had suddenly shown up, adding a layer of tension to the atmosphere.


    Camera flashes lit up the backdrop as reporters leaned forward, waiting for a statement. O¡¯Neill adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat.


    "Good afternoon. Before we get into the usual pre-match questions, I¡¯d like to address the recent speculation surrounding our players and the club."


    The room immediately fell silent.


    "We¡¯re well aware of the current situation," he continued. "But our focus remains the same. We prepare. We play. We win. And tomorrow, against Darlington, that¡¯s exactly what we plan to do." sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It felt like a typical opening¡ªreassuring, composed.


    A reporter raised his hand.


    "How¡¯s the squad looking ahead of tomorrow¡¯s game? Any injury concerns or unavailable players?"


    O¡¯Neill nodded, understanding the question behind the question¡ªit was about Ronaldo¡¯s condition.


    "The squad¡¯s looking strong," he said with a confident nod. "Everyone¡¯s fit and ready to go. So yes, they¡¯re all set for the match."


    Another reporter quickly followed up.


    "How important is this match in the context of reaching the playoffs and¡ª"


    O¡¯Neill swiftly shook his head, cutting the question short. "No, no, no," he said, his voice firm. "We still have a chance. We¡¯ve got 14 matches left to catch Birmingham City. The media might say our shot at automatic promotion is gone, but I believe we can pull off a miracle."


    His words hung in the air, catching the attention of everyone in the room¡ªespecially the reporter from The Sun.


    His eyes lit up at this. The chief editor had been given the green light to go after Manchester City, and the reporter was eager to take the opportunity.


    As the session neared its end and the usual back-and-forth began to wind down, a hand shot up near the back of the room.


    ¡¯The Sun again,¡¯ O¡¯Neill thought, taking a deep breath and bracing himself.


    It was the reporter from The Sun, standing slowly, a notepad in one hand and today¡¯s front-page headline in the other.


    "How confident are you in your team¡¯s ability to secure promotion?"


    "Of course, I always believe in my team," O¡¯Neill replied confidently, keeping his composure.


    The reporter nodded and scribbled something down before clearing his throat.


    "Mr. O¡¯Neill, one more question, if you don¡¯t mind. Considering your player¡¯s recent collapse¡ªand the fact that your club doesn¡¯t even have a proper full-time physio¡ªshouldn¡¯t someone be held accountable? Or are we meant to believe this was just another accident?"


    At the far end of the room, where there were fewer people, Ronaldo clenched his fist tightly. Richard, noticing his discomfort, gently patted his shoulder.


    "Just listen. Don¡¯t worry," he murmured, offering reassurance.


    The question had been anticipated. O¡¯Neill, Richard, and the club¡¯s legal team had already discussed it thoroughly, preparing for this moment.


    He took a deep breath before responding, his tone measured but firm.


    "Let me address that head-on," he began. "We¡¯re working in collaboration with Wythenshawe Hospital, one of the best facilities in Manchester. It¡¯s renowned and was established by Princess Margaret herself. To suggest that our medical team or the hospital¡¯s care is anything less than top-notch is frankly insulting, and I won¡¯t stand for that accusation."


    "..."


    The Sun reporter¡¯s eyes widened.


    Indeed, even before Ronaldo¡¯s collapse, City had entered a partnership with Wythenshawe Hospital. Founded by Princess Margaret in 1993 for its dedicated transplant hospital, it even gained self-governing trust status in 1994 under NHS reforms by the government.


    ¡¯Damn it,¡¯ the reporter thought, realizing he had just fired a blank.


    O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t miss a beat.


    "We¡¯ve got a team of medical professionals monitoring our players at the highest level. True, we don¡¯t employ a traditional full-time physio, but we¡¯ve made a deliberate decision to ensure our players receive care from top-tier external specialists. To suggest otherwise isn¡¯t just unfair to our national hospital¡ªit borders on libel."


    He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room.


    The press remained silent, and even the reporter from The Sun seemed to hesitate. It was well-known that The Sun was owned by an American, so O¡¯Neill redirected their questioning to focus on the hospital itself.


    It was almost as if they were now questioning a hospital supported by the Royal Family. That wasn¡¯t just bad taste¡ªit was bad judgment. The reporter could feel a sense of discomfort settling in. He cursed O¡¯Neill venomously in his mind.


    As he glanced around the room, seeing other reporters taking notes, his mouth twitched. He could already see it: instead of City, The Sun would be the headline.


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s gaze briefly shifted to Richard and Ronaldo in the back. Noticing Richard¡¯s nod, he felt a sense of resolve¡ªhis job was done.


    "I¡¯ve said this before and I¡¯ll say it again: Even though we don¡¯t have an in-house physio, our medical setup is second to none. Anyone questioning our approach should look at the facts. And if they still have doubts, maybe they should be questioning the standards of Wythenshawe Hospital instead."


    "..."


    ¡¯But that¡¯s not what I meant!¡¯ The reporter wanted to cry.


    Was he really about to question a hospital supported by the Royal Family?


    Of course not¡ªhe was just trying to make a quick buck, as the chief editor had urged him to put City on the target board. But what he didn¡¯t realize was that he had already walked into their trap.


    ¡¯Done,¡¯ Richard said to himself before turning around.


    First, how to make The Sun shut up?


    Use the Royal Family as a shield. Redirect their accusations away from City and toward Wythenshawe Hospital¡ªshift the spotlight there. After all, the hospital operates under royal patronage. Let¡¯s see how Murdoch handles a clash with them.


    Ronaldo, still in a daze, hesitated for a moment before quickly following him.


    Richard took a moment to explain everything to Ronaldo. The forward wasn¡¯t exactly well-versed in these matters, so most of it still felt like a blur. But once Richard laid it out, Ronaldo realized just how deep the man¡¯s schemes ran.


    "There¡¯s more to come," Richard said, stopping and turning to face him.


    "As I said, you¡¯d better focus on football and let me handle the rest." He paused, then smiled. "Including the federation. It won¡¯t take long. As long as you keep performing, they won¡¯t dare touch your spot in the national team."


    Which means... next is how he will handle CBF.


    Ronaldo doubted Richard¡¯s statement, but he nodded nonetheless, waiting for the promise to be delivered. For him, and other Brazilians, playing in the national team, representing their country was everything. It was an honor they held dear.


    With the League and FA Cup behind them, City had to shift their focus back to the Second Division.


    They were still in 5th place, and thanks to what Richard had promised after their meeting yesterday, O¡¯Neill suddenly felt incredibly motivated.


    "Martin, do you believe in miracles?" Richard had asked the previous day. "I know, and I¡¯m sorry about McAllister and Redknapp¡ªthey both rejected our offer."


    McAllister had decided to stay at Leeds and finish out his contract, while Redknapp chose to remain at Liverpool, waiting for his opportunity after his injury.


    "But!" Richard had said suddenly, his voice rising with emphasis. "Automatic promotion. If you manage to catch up with Birmingham City, I promise you¡ªnext season, every player you want, I¡¯ll bring them in for you. Even if it means burning all of City¡¯s money."


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s eyes widened at the bold promise.


    A 15-point gap separated City from the top of the table. If the target shifted from securing a playoff spot to chasing automatic promotion, it meant one thing¡ªCity would need to win every remaining match.


    O¡¯Neill paused, thinking it through, then gave a firm, serious nod.


    Soon the match against Darlington.


    As the last player jogged into the changing room, O¡¯Neill began his instruction.


    "Up front as usual, Solskj?r. And behind, Ronaldo." He stopped and looked toward the striker. "You sure you can play?"


    Ronaldo nodded.


    "Good. Next..."


    After giving his final instructions, the first half of the match against Darlington soon began.


    From the director¡¯s box, Richard could see O¡¯Neill was furious.


    "Run! Hey, run!!!"


    "Stay back, don¡¯t push too far!"


    "There! Over there, help him out! It¡¯s wide open, get over there!!"


    The intensity of O¡¯Neill¡¯s commands echoed across the field, his frustration mounting as he watched his players struggle.


    Richard, observing the tension, knew O¡¯Neill¡¯s patience was wearing thin.


    By the end of the first half, the score was Darlington 1 ¨C 0 Manchester City.


    But O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t worry. He clapped his hands, calling the team to attention.


    "Alright, listen up," O¡¯Neill said in the changing room, his voice calm but firm. "We¡¯re making some changes."


    Originally, he thought the squad was still reeling from the loss to Manchester United, which is why he had stuck with the counterattack strategy. But now, he realized he had been wrong.


    His gaze narrowed as he scanned all the players in the changing room, especially the midfielders¡ªJamie Pollock, Keith Gillespie, and Graham Fenton¡ªwho he stared at a little longer.


    A few players exchanged uncertain glances, sensing a shift in his tone.


    "We¡¯re abandoning the wings and the counter for now. From here on, we press them in the middle." He paused, scanning everyone in the room before continuing with words that left everyone stunned.


    "Now, back to the 4-4-2. William, from now on, you¡¯ll play as a holding midfielder. Ian One, Ian Two, and Tony¡ªyou¡¯re in for the second half, replacing Jamie, Keith, and Graham."


    Gallas¡¯ eyes widened. Playing as a holding midfielder?


    The three players¡ªIan Ferguson, Ian Taylor, and Tony Grant¡ªwere taken aback. Just yesterday, they¡¯d been told they¡¯d be on the bench, and now, they were starting in the second half?


    Originally, O¡¯Neill had planned to ease them back into action slowly¡ªafter all, the three loan players had only just recovered from injury. But after Richard¡¯s bold promise the day before, he decided to take the risk.


    Of course, the veterans Jamie Pollock and Graham Fenton were unhappy with this decision, while Keith Gillespie also followed suit, feeling displeased.


    Formation change from 5-4-1 to 4-4-2:


    Goalkeeper: Shay Given


    Defenders: Cafu, Sol Campbell, Rio Ferdinand, Roberto Carlos


    Midfielders: William Gallas, Ian Ferguson, Ian Taylor, and Tony Grant


    Strikers: Ronaldo, Solskj?r


    The first half was a disaster, but the second half was different.


    The high pressing 4-4-2 formation allowed City to become more fluid in their play. The pressure in midfield was relentless, with Gallas proving himself as the most versatile player, working in unison with his teammates to win back possession quickly.


    City¡¯s players weren¡¯t used to sitting back and defending¡ªthey preferred to attack, even if it meant risking everything. They weren¡¯t comfortable being pressured by the opposition.


    O¡¯Neill harshly rebuked himself for choosing a counter-attacking strategy against Crystal Palace and Manchester United. If only he had decided to take the risk and go for an all-out attack, perhaps the result would have been different.


    "Darlington¡¯s defenders had grown accustomed to facing City, who sat back in the first half. They never anticipated that this time the opponent would suddenly adopt a pressing style," the commentator analyzed, watching the struggles they faced against the relentless duo of Ronaldo and Solskj?r up front, with Roberto Carlos and Cafu constantly making overlapping runs.


    Finally, in the 60th minute, the floodgates opened¡ªand when the referee blew the final whistle:


    Darlington 1 ¨C 3 Manchester City.


    "Another hat-trick for Ronaldo! He redeems himself after the setback at Old Trafford with this incredible performance!"

 Chapter 137: Soar high! There’s nothing stopping you now!

    Chapter 137: Soar high! There¡¯s nothing stopping you now!Morning practice was about to begin. O¡¯Neill stood at the edge of the pitch, arms crossed, watching as his players trickled onto the field. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As the last player jogged into place, he clapped his hands to get their attention.


    "Alright, listen up," he said, his voice calm but firm. "For the rest of the season, we¡¯re making changes."


    A few of them exchanged glances, and he could already see the skepticism.


    "Starting today, we¡¯re switching to a high-pressing 4-4-2¡ªjust like yesterday," he continued. "William, you¡¯re the holding midfielder for the rest of the matches. Roberto and Cafu will keep pushing forward with overlaps. Tony, Ian One, and Ian Two will form the midfield line in front of William."


    He gestured toward the tactics board where the new formation was laid out.


    After a full five minutes of breaking down the details, Pollock suddenly raised his hand.


    "But coach, we don¡¯t have the legs for a high press. We¡¯ll be gassed by halftime."


    "Then you¡¯d better start running." O¡¯Neill dropped the bombshell, instantly silencing any opposition.


    "..."


    "You understand what I mean? I need you to stop acting like statues every time we lose possession."


    "..."


    "But that¡¯s not important now." O¡¯Neill clapped his hands. "Alright, get to training. Your performance in these sessions will decide if you¡¯ll start in the match against Cambridge."


    The next hour was hell for the players.


    O¡¯Neill and his staff drilled them relentlessly, leaving everyone confused.


    Why had the drills suddenly changed?


    Pressing drills and defensive shape maintenance. Every time someone slacked off, he restarted the drill.


    He became increasingly harsh, prompting some players to mutter curses under their breath. They were used to lighter training sessions¡ªthis felt more like a military drill. Still, no one slacked off, likely because they were still in culture shock from the sudden change.


    The next match was against Cambridge, and from start to finish¡ªeven in the changing room¡ªit felt like nothing would be the same.


    It was always the same words every time: "Press! Press! Press!"¡ªso much so that the players were dizzy just hearing it.


    The next two matches would determine whether O¡¯Neill¡¯s gamble¡ªhis tactics, his leadership, and his pressing strategy¡ªhad been worth it.


    Richard, watching from the director¡¯s box, wore a strange expression. City¡¯s play now looked almost like Klopp¡¯s gegenpressing¡ªrelentless and aggressive.


    Every time they won the ball, it went straight to Ronaldo, and then Cafu and Roberto Carlos would rocket forward from the back, throwing the opposition¡¯s defense into complete disarray.


    Fixture 34: Cambridge United 1 vs 3 Manchester City


    Fixture 35: Manchester City 2 vs 0 Macclesfield Town


    Finally, after Cambridge and Macclesfield, the real challenge awaited: Birmingham City.


    Birmingham City, the current leaders of the Second Division, were comfortably sitting at the top of the table. The next match was against them¡ªand this time, O¡¯Neill had no intention of playing it safe, determined to learn from his previous mistakes.


    Birmingham City - 67 Points


    Brentford - 63 Points


    Bristol Rovers - 59 Points


    Manchester City - 56 Points


    Blackpool - 55 Points


    Wycombe Wanderers - 52 Points


    City moved up one spot after winning twice, and now they¡¯re closing in.


    Richard sat in his office, reviewing the usual invoices. One, in particular, stood out¡ªa payment of ¡ê23,000 owed to Wythenshawe Hospital for the past two months.


    "Any recent injuries?" Richard asked.


    Miss Heysen nodded. "Mike Phelan, Tony Vaughan, Nick Fenton, and Richard Jobson¡ªall picked up injuries during the match against Macclesfield Town."


    High-pressing football was a double-edged sword. While the high press was exciting to watch and got the fans¡¯ adrenaline pumping, ticket sales were climbing, and supporters were filling the stands again, the downside was that players were becoming more prone to injury.


    Adding with Paul Lake¡¯s career-threatening injury, City had to send Mike Phelan, Tony Vaughan, Nick Fenton, and Richard Jobson to the hospital now.


    Richard nodded, signing off on the approval for the payment before his phone suddenly rang.


    RING~


    He glanced at the caller ID, his eyes lighting up. Without hesitation, he picked up the phone and greeted, "Gordon."


    After the greeting, Richard and the barrister, Gordon Barry, who was currently in Rio de Janeiro, had a brief but important discussion. Once the call ended, not long after, a fax arrived from Brazil.


    "Finally..." Richard skimmed through it, nodding in satisfaction.


    One day before the Birmingham match, Richard waited until the changing room was empty before heading in.


    Inside, Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu¡ªwho had already finished their training for the day¡ªwere waiting, having been told that Richard had something important to say.


    After speaking with them for about twenty minutes, Richard was the first to leave. The three Brazilians remained seated in a daze, their thoughts still racing as they stared blankly at the floor, trying to process what had just happened.


    They were still in shock, struggling to make sense of it all.


    "Do you think he was telling the truth?" Cafu asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.


    "I¡¯m not sure," Roberto Carlos replied, slowly shaking his head.


    Ronaldo, holding a fax, looked at the others. "But what about this?" he asked, carefully pointing to the document as if it were made of gold.


    When they looked closely, they saw it¡ªan official stamp from the Brazilian Minister of Sports.


    Pel¨¦!


    "..."


    Suddenly, everything felt like it was spinning out of control. The pressure from back home was relentless, and their situation at City only seemed to be growing more complicated. But if what the fax said was true... things might be about to change.


    They exchanged looks, a mix of disbelief and anticipation flickering in their eyes.


    "Just like in Brazil?"


    "Yeah. Just like in Brazil."


    "Then let¡¯s go."


    Before the match began, O¡¯Neill stood at the front of the dressing room, tapping the edge of the tactical board with the back of his marker.


    "Listen up," he said, his tone sharp and focused. "They¡¯re underestimating us. They think we¡¯ll sit deep, soak up pressure, and try to hit them on the break."


    He paused, looking around the room to make sure every pair of eyes was on him.


    "But we¡¯re not doing that. Not today."


    O¡¯Neill turned to the board and started sketching out his plan.


    "We press. We force them into mistakes. They¡¯re not expecting us to play like this, and that¡¯s exactly why it¡¯ll work. We press them high. From the first whistle. I want their backline uncomfortable. I want their midfielders turning with their backs to goal. I want their keeper forced into long balls. We¡¯re not playing scared. We¡¯re playing to win."


    O¡¯Neill pointed at Ronaldo¡¯s name on the board.


    "Ronaldo, Solskj?r, you lead the press. Cut off the passing lane to their holding midfielder. Don¡¯t let them breathe."


    Then to the flanks.


    "Cafu, Roberto¡ªoverlap constantly, just like we practiced. But recover fast. If you can¡¯t go, signal and let the midfield rotate to cover."


    He turned back toward the group.


    "This is it. They expect us to roll over. They¡¯ve already written the headlines. Let¡¯s prove them wrong."


    "Let¡¯s go! (x3) Yeah!"


    Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu were the first to spring from their seats, clapping and slapping their boots in a burst of energy, urging the others¡ªstill dumbfounded¡ªto move. Just this morning, you looked so drained, but suddenly¡ªwhat sparked this fire in you?


    O¡¯Neill, who knew the reason, was gratified. Finally, their passion for the game had returned.


    The atmosphere shifted¡ªcautious optimism turning into something fiercer.A challenge had been laid down.


    And they were ready.


    Goalkeeper: Shay Given


    Defenders: Cafu, Sol Campbell, Rio Ferdinand, Roberto Carlos


    Midfielders: William Gallas, Ian Ferguson, Ian Taylor, and Tony Grant


    Strikers: Ronaldo, Solskj?r


    O¡¯Neill opted for his strongest lineup.


    The referee blew the whistle.


    Kickoff.


    Birmingham¡¯s typical style of play was strong in aerial duels and disruptive pressing¡ªopponents often struggled to build momentum. However, within less than a minute, they nearly had a heart attack.


    Ronaldo feinted left, then quickly slid a disguised pass to Roberto Carlos, who had drifted inside from the left wing.


    Their right-back and center-back reacted a split second too late.


    Roberto, now free just outside the penalty area, took a touch, looked up¡ª


    And unleashed a howitzer of a shot.


    Ian Bennett, Birmingham¡¯s goalkeeper, was frozen in place before he heard the BAM!


    The ball slammed into the top left corner of the net, leaving him stunned and momentarily paralyzed.


    The crowd sighed in frustration.


    Roberto Carlos threw his hands up in disbelief.


    Bennett, still too shocked, could only stare at where the ball had collided with the crossbar, his breath heavy and labored.


    "That¡¯s Roberto Carlos¡¯ signature shot! It¡¯s been so long since we¡¯ve seen a rocket like that from him!" the commentator roared.


    "Stay focused!" Barry Fry, Birmingham manager shouted.


    City wouldn¡¯t stop, unfortunately. This was only the beginning.


    15th Minute: Birmingham had barely touched the ball when Cafu, calm and composed, received possession just at the edge of the box.


    With one smooth, effortless flick of his foot, he sent Solskj?r through¡ªperfect timing, perfect precision.


    Bennett, the Birmingham goalkeeper, stepped up just a fraction too late.


    Solskj?r took a confident touch¡ªthen, without hesitation, rifled a shot past Bennett and into the top corner of the net.


    Boom.


    Maine Road erupted into a deafening roar.


    Richard barely reacted. He knew this was coming. But the way City carved them open in just fifteen minutes? It was terrifying.


    12th Minute: Birmingham tried to settle into their rhythm, but City¡¯s press was unyielding, suffocating every attempt to break forward.


    A loose touch from their midfielder was all it took.


    Gallas, always alert, pounced, intercepting the ball with clinical precision and immediately feeding it to Ronaldo, who would often collect the ball from deep, scanning the pitch like a general commanding his troops.


    He immediately feeding it to Solskj?r once again before he curled a beautiful shot into the top corner.


    Bennett didn¡¯t even move.


    Barry Fry exhaled slowly. ¡¯This could get ugly,¡¯ he thought, then shaking his head. ¡¯Impossible. City just got thrashed by United, and we managed to draw with them.¡¯


    And that stubbornness¡ªblending with the chaos¡ªcould very well send Birmingham to hell!

 Chapter 138: How to Make Them Shut Up (Second)

    Chapter 138: How to Make Them Shut Up (Second)24th Minute: Birmingham were drowning. The Maine Road crowd could smell blood, their roars growing louder with each wave of City¡¯s attack.


    Then¡ªanother mistake.


    Their center-back received a simple back pass but hesitated for just half a second. That was all Solskj?r needed.


    The City striker pounced with hunger, stealing the ball, weaving around Bennett, and calmly tapping it into an empty net.


    3-0.


    First hat-trick!


    Solskj?r took off running, his arms outstretched, a smile spreading across his face. The crowd¡¯s deafening cheer only fueled his joy as he slid on his knees toward the corner flag, leaving a trail of passion and energy in his wake.


    Barry Fry turned away, running a hand down his face in disbelief.


    His assistant, eyes wide with concern, muttered, "If we don¡¯t settle down, this could be a record-breaking loss."


    Still, Barry Fry said nothing. He didn¡¯t respond. He just kept watching, silently believing in his team.


    As the first half drew to a close, City¡¯s attack surged closer to Birmingham¡¯s penalty area. Roberto Carlos, ever the threat from range, fired a powerful shot from outside the box, but Bennett reacted quickly, deflecting it out for a corner.


    Cafu stepped up to take the corner.


    Ronaldo and Solskj?r, positioned themselves ready for any eventuality. They were soon joined by Campbell and Ferdinand, both towering figures who added further aerial threat.


    Ian Taylor and Ferguson remained near the center circle, vigilant and ready to thwart any potential counter-attacks, while Gallas roamed toward the far post, eyes sharp for a loose ball.


    Campbell positioned himself directly in front of the goalkeeper, applying pressure, while Ferdinand stood poised at the edge of the six-yard box.


    Roberto Carlos, ever unpredictable, caused confusion at the near post, drawing attention as others, like Tony Grant, appeared passive in midfield, casually shifting with the movements of the defenders, showing no inclination to engage directly.


    Cafu, standing by the corner flag, raised his hand in a clenched fist¡ªa signal understood implicitly by his teammates. Without hesitation, he swung the ball into the box.


    As the ball soared toward the center, City¡¯s players surged forward, instinctively pulling the Birmingham defenders along with them. A cluster of bodies shifted toward the far post, but amidst the chaos, one player broke free¡ªhis movement precise and deliberate¡ªas he positioned himself at the near post for a potential strike.


    The ball sailed into the box, and Ferdinand, with his commanding presence, rose above the rest to meet it.


    His header thudded toward goal, but Bennett, quick on his feet, reacted just in time, punching the ball away. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the Birmingham defense. But they had missed one crucial detail.


    Gallas, who had been quietly roaming just outside the chaos, was patiently waiting for a loose ball. The moment it bounced, his eyes locked on it. Without hesitation, he surged forward, timing his volley to perfection.


    The Birmingham players froze, helpless, as Gallas struck the ball. It rocketed toward the goal, a powerful shot that left the goalkeeper rooted to the spot. The crowd held its breath as the ball flew toward its target, the tension palpable in the air.


    "Gallas! That¡¯s his first goal of the season!!!"


    With a primal roar, Gallas exploded in celebration. His arms shot into the air as he sprinted toward the corner flag, his eyes alight with a fierce joy. As he reached the corner, he slid to his knees, letting out a triumphant, guttural shout: "Aaaaarghhhh!" The sound echoed through the stadium as the crowd erupted in response.


    His teammates quickly surrounded him, clapping him on the back and cheering as he basked in the moment. Gallas raised his arms once more, looking up at the sky, his expression a mixture of relief and pride.


    The first half ended, Manchester City 4 - 0 Birmingham City.


    Before the second half began, Robertson approached O¡¯Neill. "Now that we¡¯re up 4-0, do we need to defend in the second half?"


    O¡¯Neill paused, then shook his head. "No, we press. Now is the best time to unleash and vent their frustration after the two recent losses and the draw from the previous match."


    He stepped forward in front of the players. "We keep pressing. Play to your heart¡¯s content. I¡¯m giving you the freedom to play however you want. Prove it to me!"


    Birmingham were drowning under City¡¯s relentless pressure.


    Fry had told them to remain disciplined, to stay compact, but the reality was far harsher than any tactical preparation.


    They couldn¡¯t break out. Every clearance came straight back. Every pass had to be perfect¡ªbecause a single mistake? It would be punished instantly.


    He had hoped that City might sit back or at least play more conservatively in the second half. But he could already imagine that instead, City would push even harder.


    The second half kicked off¡ªand for the first time this season, Maine Road was electric.


    The stands were alive, voices rising in unison, the sound rolling like thunder across the pitch. Flares lit the air with a smoky glow, and scarves swung overhead as the crowd burst into song:


    "Oh Manchester is Wonderful~"


    "Oh Manchester is Wonderful~"


    "Full of tits fanny and City~"


    "Oh Manchester is Wonderful~"


    City were hungry. The fans could feel it. And Birmingham? They looked like they were bracing for a storm.


    From the dugout, O¡¯Neill stood with arms crossed, eyes scanning the field, but even he couldn¡¯t suppress a small smile.


    On the pitch, the City players moved with swagger. Passes were crisp. The press was coordinated. They were playing with the freedom O¡¯Neill had promised¡ªno longer cautious, but expressive.


    The ball rolled to Roberto Carlos on the flank. He raised a hand, took a quick look inside, and drilled a low, curling cross into the box.


    Ronaldo darted between two defenders, his timing perfect.


    PHWEEE~!


    The final whistle rang out¡ªlong, shrill, and unmistakable.


    Immediately, Maine Road erupted¡ªnot with a goal, but with applause, cheers, and chants that shook the stands.


    The fans rose to their feet, clapping furiously, waving scarves and fists in the air. They weren¡¯t just celebrating the lead.


    They were celebrating attitude. Intensity. Football the way it was meant to be played.


    On the touchline, O¡¯Neill finally let his arms drop, exhaling slowly. On the pitch, Ronaldo and Solskj?r exchanged a high-five, while Roberto Carlos raised both arms to the crowd, soaking in the moment. Gallas dropped to his knees in exhaustion, grinning like a madman. They had poured it all out.


    And the crowd let them know: We saw you. We felt it. Thank you.


    Manchester City 5 ¨C 0 Birmingham City.


    City demolished their shell-shocked visitors without mercy¡ªBirmingham City, the league leaders, left stunned and scoreless!


    Richard hurriedly rose from his seat and went over to Miss Heysen to ask about the other match results."Miss Heysen, how¡¯s the other game?"


    "Bristol lost, and Brentford won," she replied.


    Richard clenched his fist in celebration.


    With that result, City were now level on points with Bristol Rovers in third place¡ªjust seven and eight points behind the top two in the standings.


    Birmingham City - 67 Points


    Brentford - 66 Points


    Bristol Rovers - 59 Points


    Manchester City - 59 Points


    Blackpool - 58 Points


    Wycombe Wanderers - 55 Points


    City demolished the league leaders 5-0 without reply, sending a clear message to Brentford in second place and to Bristol Rovers, who had expected Birmingham to breeze past their easy opponents.


    O¡¯Neill clapped his hands in the changing room, gathering everyone¡¯s attention.


    "We¡¯re not done, guys. We¡¯re not done. April¡¯s not over, and we¡¯ve got May ahead. Let¡¯s make sure we keep pushing, stay focused. The job¡¯s far from finished."


    His words echoed through the room as the players, still buzzing from the massive win, nodded in agreement.


    After the match, Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu stayed longer at Maine Road, their eyes fixed on the television. The reason for their focus?


    The current extraordinary Minister for Sport, Pel¨¦, was speaking on air.


    In 1993, Pel¨¦ made headlines when he publicly accused Ricardo Teixeira, the Brazilian football administrator, of corruption. The trigger was Pel¨¦¡¯s television company being rejected in a contest for the Brazilian domestic rights to broadcast the 1994 World Cup.


    As a result, the fallout was swift and harsh.


    The President of FIFA, Jo?o Havelange¡ªTeixeira¡¯s father-in-law¡ªtook immediate action by banning Pel¨¦ from attending the 1994 World Cup draw in Las Vegas, marking the beginning of an ongoing feud between the legendary footballer and the Brazilian Football Confederation (CBF).


    This scandal didn¡¯t just stay in the past. It set the stage for a deeper rift between Pel¨¦ and the CBF.


    "Sure, sure, you disturb my players," Richard muttered coldly as he glanced at the latest news on the current FIFA election. "I¡¯ll make sure you get all the attention then. Let¡¯s see how you fight against your current Minister of Sports."


    Gordon Barry, the current Manchester City barrister, had already flown to Brazil to represent Richard in securing support for Pel¨¦, the current Minister for Sport.


    The agreement was that $700,000 would be provided, as long as Pel¨¦ would revive the controversy from the 1994 World Cup and use it to further challenge the Brazilian Football Confederation (CBF).


    The deal was swift. Very swift.


    Pel¨¦, who had seen how the CBF had long held a tight grip on the country¡¯s footballing structure, dictating player contracts, club transfers, and governance, was fed up with them. Richard¡¯s $700,000 would be put to good use in lobbying politicians to pass the law as retaliation against the CBF.


    Thus, the Pel¨¦ Law was born.


    [... To my Brazil, our football is the heartbeat of this nation. From the streets of S?o Paulo to the beaches of Rio, football unites us. But for too long, our beautiful game has been controlled by a few...]


    In other words, the Pel¨¦ Law effectively dismantled much of the CBF¡¯s power, granting players the freedom to negotiate better terms and move between clubs with less red tape. It also permitted the formation of independent leagues by sports clubs across the country¡ªsomething that had not been allowed under the CBF¡¯s governance.


    The three looked at each other in silence, soaking in every word of Pel¨¦¡¯s speech. But just as the legendary figure finished speaking, the news broadcast took a sharp turn. What came next made all three of them sit up straight, eyes wide in shock.


    [Breaking News ¨C TV Anchor¡¯s Voice]


    [...We have just received an update. The Brazilian IRS has officially launched an investigation into Ricardo Terra Teixeira. According to sources, the president of the CBF is under scrutiny for suspicious financial activity, including the undocumented import of a fully equipped beer-making machine¡ªreportedly installed in a private bar he opened just months after the World Cup...]


    "..."


    "Well? What do you think? Are you satisfied with this outcome?" Richard suddenly appeared, his voice calm but laced with meaning, as he addressed the Brazilian trio whose eyes were still locked on the television.


    Hearing his voice, the three slowly turned to him. They looked at his face, as if trying to form a response¡ªbut in the end, no words came out.


    They were speechless.


    Richard didn¡¯t give them time to think. He tossed a newspaper onto the table in front of Ronaldo.


    Still confused, Ronaldo picked it up and read the headline sprawled across the front page in bold, capital letters: "¡¯HE LOOKED POSSESSED¡¯: INSIDERS REVEAL RONALDO¡¯S STRANGE BEHAVIOR BEFORE THE GAME!"


    "RONALDO¡¯S MYSTERY ILLNESS BEFORE UNITED CLASH RAISES QUESTIONS!"


    "RONALDO¡¯S LAST-MINUTE MELTDOWN¡ªCITY DEMAND INVESTIGATION!"


    "WHO FED THE STRIKER? MEAL UNDER SCRUTINY AS RONALDO COLLAPSES PRE-MATCH"


    All the media outlets were essentially asking the same question as soon as the story broke. Naturally, a few tried to cast doubt on the rumors, but Richard, fully aware of the power of media manipulation, ensured those voices were quickly silenced.


    None of the major newspapers gave them much space, except for The Sun. However, The Sun remained strangely quiet, not publishing anything at all. He shook his head, dismissing it all as he instructed Ronaldo to turn the page.


    Still stunned, Ronaldo slowly flipped the page, his eyes scanning the next headline.


    "MANCHESTER CITY TERMINATES CATERING CONTRACT FOLLOWING RONALDO¡¯S POISONING INCIDENT! RICHARD MADDOX MAKES IT CLEAR THAT SUCH EVENTS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED AT THE CLUB."


    The headline caused a major stir among fans. News of a "poisoning incident" sparked outrage and speculation, while Richard¡¯s decision to terminate the catering contract suggested a serious internal failure or negligence.


    Of course, Richard didn¡¯t escape criticism either. His strong statement added fuel to the fire¡ªit demonstrated decisive leadership but also confirmed the severity of the situation. Fans were split between supporting him and questioning how such an incident could have occurred under his watch.


    "Has it gone too far?" Cafu asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.


    "How could it be?" Richard denied it with a shrug, before proceeding to explain the situation.


    The catering service is a subsidiary under the Lee Consortium, and there¡¯s a six-year contract. If he wants to terminate it, he¡¯d have to pay a penalty fee of at least ¡ê300,000. And Richard, that¡¯s something he¡¯s definitely not willing to pay. Of course, he didn¡¯t say this.


    His explanation was simple: "Who serves fish and chips for lunch to an athlete? And then they had the audacity to provide Mars Bars as snacks? Honestly, if they¡¯re trying to fuel athletes with that kind of food, I¡¯m surprised we haven¡¯t seen more of you collapsing."


    "..." S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard then turned to them. "As I said, I¡¯ll protect you," he said firmly. "Now, you¡¯d better repay me with better performances on the pitch. By next month, I expect to see you replicate the kind of performance you gave against Birmingham."

 Chapter 139: Miracle April

    Chapter 139: Miracle AprilApril Fixtures:


    Wigan


    Hull City


    Peterborough United


    Stockport County


    Notts County


    City had five games left in April and were sitting just eight points behind Birmingham, who were currently at the top of the table. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After their stunning victory over Birmingham, the team¡¯s morale soared, fueling O¡¯Neill¡¯s determination to push City toward automatic promotion.


    O¡¯Neill tapped the table repeatedly. "Eight points, guys, just eight points. We¡¯re so close to first place! We¡¯ve come this far, and now we need to finish strong. Every match counts. We can do this!"


    The situation was now truly precarious for the top teams in the second division. One slip-up, and everything could fall apart.


    Everyone knew the margin for error was razor-thin. But knowing wasn¡¯t enough. They had to prove it on the pitch.


    "All right, everybody! Get dressed, we¡¯re going out for training!"


    When everyone else had gotten up and gone out, Jamie Pollock was still sitting on the bench, not having changed his clothes.


    Ronaldo, the kind and social guy, naturally noticed this. He wanted to go up, grab Pollock, and push him out, but Campbell stopped him with a shake of his head.


    As the captain, Campbell noticed it too. He took responsibility and clapped his hands, saying loudly, repeating the coach¡¯s command, "Get dressed, we¡¯re going out for training!"


    However, he didn¡¯t approach Pollock or remind him personally.


    Keith Gillespie, the recently promoted youngster, still on the bench, walked over to Pollock. He tapped his shoulder and whispered his name, "Jamie, Jamie."


    "Huh?" Pollock snapped out of it, looking at Gillespie, somewhat confused.


    "Everyone¡¯s already at the pitch. You took so long to change. If the boss finds out, he¡¯ll certainly be angry."


    "Oh, right. Yeah, he hates being late for training and things like that," Pollock nodded, muttering to himself.


    It was drizzling under the gloomy sky. The rain was not heavy, but it was cold enough.


    O¡¯Neill and Walker stood in the corridor leading to the training ground, drenched by the cold rain. It was now 8:59 AM. They weren¡¯t carrying umbrellas, nor were they wearing raincoats or pullovers. They just stood there, letting the rain soak through their hair and clothes, trickling down their necks and into their bodies.


    They waited, but still, no one came running out.


    Robertson, who had already started counting the players and marking their names, glanced over and said to O¡¯Neill, "Jamie Pollock, Keith Gillespie, Graham Fenton, and Shaun Goater still aren¡¯t out there."


    O¡¯Neill nodded, his gaze fixed on the empty field. "I understand. I don¡¯t expect a player who was coached by Alan Ball¡ªsomeone who preferred chatting with his wife during training¡ªto suddenly lead a disciplined group who respects time. But it¡¯s a bit surprising that after all this time under me, they still hasn¡¯t changed."


    He glanced at his watch¡ªit was now exactly 9 o¡¯clock.


    "Let¡¯s start counting the time,"


    Robertson nodded and started the stopwatch.


    After 47 seconds, Keith Gillespie finally came running out.


    "Boss! Good morning!"


    O¡¯Neill smiled and nodded. "Morning. What about the others?" he asked.


    "They¡¯re still inside," Gillespie answered. "I¡¯ve already rushed them along." He paused, suddenly remembering how much O¡¯Neill hated tardiness, and quickly fell silent.


    O¡¯Neill looked at him. "Keith, you¡¯re forty-seven seconds late. You know what to do?"


    "Uh, I¡¯ll run the laps," he replied, turning to head off, but O¡¯Neill stopped him.


    "Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re not the only one today. Go to the field and wait."


    Gillespie swallowed nervously. He knew everyone would be in for a tough day. As more players emerged, most of them greeted O¡¯Neill with smiles, unaware of the impending punishment. He responded with a smile but said nothing about laps for being late.


    "John," O¡¯Neill began, "how many fixtures have we played so far this season, including the FA and League Cups?"


    "Uhm, over fifty, probably?"


    "Exactly fifty-six fixtures, including preseason," O¡¯Neill confirmed.


    "..."


    "You know, my expectation was to be able to integrate the newcomers with the players left over from Alan Ball¡¯s time, hoping that some discipline would rub off on them and change them for the better. How many times have I allowed this to happen? Did this happen at Wycombe?" he cursed under his breath before adding, "I think I¡¯ll drop them now."


    Robertson shook his head, however. "It could go either way, depending on the situation."


    O¡¯Neill turned to him. "Why do you say that?"


    Robertson replied, "As you said, we¡¯ve shifted our goal from just making the play-offs to pushing for promotion. With only ten games left in the league, dropping players now might set an example¡ªbut it could also increase pressure and make the squad more tense."


    O¡¯Neill gave a slow nod. "So, what¡¯s your advice?"


    "It¡¯s better to avoid making a scene right now," Robertson said. "Keep things steady."


    "Goddammit," O¡¯Neill muttered.


    "That doesn¡¯t mean we stay silent," Robertson continued. "You can still hand out discipline where it¡¯s due. But if you¡¯re planning a full cleanup, it¡¯s better to wait until next season. That would be the smarter move."


    "Is that so?"


    Robertson nodded. That was his honest view.


    He had been by O¡¯Neill¡¯s side since their early days at Wycombe. Naturally, O¡¯Neill trusted his judgment.


    Fixture 37 ¨C vs. Wigan (Away)


    The first half began with Wigan dominating possession right from the start. Their midfield trio moved the ball smoothly, forcing City to chase shadows.


    The waterlogged pitch made it difficult for City¡¯s players to play their usual game. For the first 15 minutes, they struggled to keep up.


    Roberto Carlos even mistimed a tackle early on, earning a warning from the referee. Given was then forced into an early save after a dangerous free kick.


    O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t flinch. He turned toward his assistant, Robertson.


    "They¡¯re cutting through us too easily," he muttered.


    "Better adjust the defensive midfield line. Drop Gallas deeper to cover the gaps," Robertson suggested.


    O¡¯Neill nodded. "William! Sit deeper! Stop the runners from getting in behind!"


    Gallas, who had already adapted well to his temporary role, adjusted his positioning. He stayed closer to the center-backs, cutting off Wigan¡¯s easy passing lanes through the middle.


    The change started to work.


    City¡¯s midfield tightened up, forcing Wigan to play out wide instead of slicing through the middle.


    But out wide, the opponent is not easy¡ªRoberto Carlos and Cafu.


    Finally, in the 72nd minute, Cafu managed to steal the ball, sprinted down the right flank, and whipped in a perfect cross into the box.


    Young Emile Heskey met it with a diving header.


    GOAL!


    0¨C1.


    Fixture 38 ¨C vs. Hull City (Home)


    The Blues dispatched Hull City 2-0 at Maine Road, and fortunately, the fixture coincidentally had Birmingham City facing Brentford, which ended in a draw. This result put City just five points away from an automatic promotion spot."


    League Table:


    Birmingham City ¨C 68 Points


    Brentford ¨C 67 Points


    Manchester City ¨C 62 Points


    Blackpool ¨C 61 Points


    Bristol Rovers ¨C 60 Points


    Wycombe Wanderers ¨C 58 Points


    Fixture 39 ¨C vs. Peterborough United (Home)


    It was supposed to be an easy match for City, who were facing Peterborough United ¡ª a team currently battling relegation in the second division.


    Eventually, the goals came flowing for City as they triumphed 4¨C0, with the Alien scoring a hat-trick for the fourth time this season. He¡¯s now the top scorer, with an impressive 27 goals, a staggering 8 goals ahead of the second-place player!


    Solskj?r sits in third place with 16 goals, tied with Birmingham¡¯s striker, Steve Claridge.


    However, Birmingham and Brentford also secured victories, so the gap to second place remains unchanged at 5 points.


    Fixture 40 ¨C vs. Stockport County (Away)


    After being postponed due to bad weather at Stockport¡¯s Hardcastle Road, it was the fourth consecutive victory for City in April.


    The challenging pitch conditions made it difficult for City throughout the match, but thankfully, the team delivered a stellar performance in the final minutes.


    The only goal of the game came from a fantastic 30-yard free-kick by Cafu.


    Stockport County 0 - 1 Manchester City.


    Fixture 41 ¨C vs. Notts County (Away)


    Richard, unable to attend the match in person, decided to follow it on the radio while working in his office.


    The commentators mentioned that City¡¯s play today felt unusual, with a style completely different from their typical approach. This caught Richard by surprise, and the fact that no goals had been scored yet made him worry something was wrong with the team.


    Suddenly, sharp shouting broke through the radio.


    "Ronaldo! Ronaldo again! And Goooal!!! It¡¯s 0-1! Manchester City takes the lead!"


    Richard leaped out of his chair, shouting and waving his arms as the excitement from the radio filled the room. He felt just like one of the fans in the stands, jumping and cheering wildly, all wearing blue jerseys.


    After calming down from his own celebration, he was about to sit back and continue listening. Then, even more enthusiastic shouting came through the radio. "It¡¯s a... It¡¯s a goal! Ronaldo again, making it 2-0!"


    "This is incredible! City¡¯s performance was a bit off for the first 29 minutes, but in just three minutes, they¡¯ve scored twice! Ronaldo has truly made the difference! He¡¯s the new City hero! Who needs Georgi ¡¯Predator¡¯ Kinkladze when we¡¯ve got Ronaldo the ¡¯Alien¡¯?! He¡¯s been phenomenal!"


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!


    Suddenly, there was an urgent knock on the door of his office, and Miss Heysen rushed in. "Richard! Birmingham drew, and Brentford lost!"


    Richard¡¯s eyes widened in shock.


    "F*CK!!!"


    The Second Division table flashed through his mind, and the impact of those results was clear¡ªCity¡¯s chances were looking even brighter now.


    Birmingham City ¨C 74 Points


    Brentford ¨C 74 Points


    Manchester City ¨C 71 Points


    Bristol Rovers ¨C 69 Points


    Blackpool ¨C 68 Points


    Wycombe Wanderers ¨C 67 Points

 Chapter 140: Straordinario!

    Chapter 140: Straordinario!The fixtures in May were crucial.


    Swansea City, Leyton Orient, and Bradford City were Manchester City¡¯s first three opponents. Richard paid particular attention to these matches, even setting aside his ever-growing workload to focus on them.


    Three games that would determine whether O¡¯Neill¡ªhis tactics, leadership, and reputation for "material management"¡ªhad truly been worth it.


    Richard met with O¡¯Neill before the match against Swansea City.


    "To be honest, playing a pressing style isn¡¯t really my type..." O¡¯Neill said, pausing. Then he looked directly at Richard. "But I have to admit, I¡¯ve gotten addicted to this kind of football."


    A chill ran down his spine every time his players won the ball high up the pitch and the crowd let out a collective "woaaaah"¡ªa sound more suited to a theatre than a football stadium.


    "Wycombe was never like this," he added, his voice laced with emotion.


    Richard just watched silently, waiting for O¡¯Neill to continue. After all, he had shown up early that morning¡ªclearly, he had something to say.


    "I¡¯ve already checked all the players you recommended," O¡¯Neill said suddenly.


    Hearing this, Richard straightened his back.


    "How is it?"


    Manchester City was different from other English clubs¡ªtransfer decisions were entirely in Richard¡¯s hands. The manager¡¯s role was simply to assess whether the players met his standards and give the final approval.


    O¡¯Neill handed over a list of names he believed best fit his vision. When Richard scanned the names, his eyes jumped.


    "You want to play pressing football again next season?"


    O¡¯Neill shook his head. "Not quite. In the lower leagues¡ªFirst and Second Division¡ªit¡¯s better to play smart. Most clubs rely on wing play and crosses to score headers. The key is to set up for counter-attacks."


    Richard nodded at this.


    O¡¯Neill then continued, "What I envision for next season is a team that can transition quickly from defense to attack¡ªcapitalizing on opportunities in transition. Win the second balls, and then the goals. That¡¯s it."


    Richard nodded thoughtfully. "Alright. I¡¯ll start working on it now," he said simply, before they parted ways.


    From a fitness perspective, Manchester City had the advantage going into the match against Swansea City.


    The Swans had just come off a physically and emotionally draining milestone¡ªtheir first-ever appearance at Wembley!


    And they had reason to celebrate.


    Swansea had just claimed their first trophy of the season, defeating Huddersfield Town on penalties to win the 1994 Football League Trophy.


    Confidence was at an all-time high for Swansea, but high spirits didn¡¯t necessarily mean fresh legs.


    O¡¯Neill recognized this and adjusted his approach.


    "They¡¯re going to control possession," he said. "Let them have the ball¡ªbut we¡¯ll hit them hard on the break."


    For the first time in weeks, the usual high-pressing approach was shelved. In its place, O¡¯Neill prioritized compactness and counter-attacks. He had a clear reason: to conserve his players¡¯ stamina for the next crucial fixture.


    As always, the lineup remained unchanged.


    Campbell and Ferdinand formed a solid defensive wall at the center.


    Cafu and Roberto Carlos operated as wing-backs, responsible for both covering the flanks and launching quick counter-attacks.


    Gallas was deployed further up, tasked with breaking up Swansea¡¯s rhythm in midfield.


    Up front, Ronaldo led the line¡ªhis role focused on making explosive runs the moment City regained possession, linking up with Emile Heskey to finish the job.


    O¡¯Neill nodded. "We¡¯ll need Shay at his best today."


    Robertson smirked. "Don¡¯t worry, Terry¡¯s already worked him hard beneath the crossbar."


    Terry Gennoe, the current goalkeeper coach, had been preparing Shay Given for this very moment.


    PHWEEE!


    The referee blew the whistle.


    Swansea¡¯s Early Domination


    From the start, Swansea dictated the tempo. Their midfielders moved the ball quickly, looking to break through City¡¯s low defensive block.


    Their full-backs surged forward, immediately putting pressure on Roberto Carlos and Cafu. But they soon realized it would be difficult to break through deeper. So, they opted to play early crosses, intending to feed their strikers¡ªtall, physical target men, Steve Torpey and Andy McFarlane.


    By the 10th minute, Swansea had their first big chance. A cross from the right found Torpey in the box. He rose above Ferdinand and powered a header toward goal.


    But Given was ready.


    The Irish goalkeeper reacted instantly, diving to his left and getting a strong hand to the ball, pushing it away.


    Richard clapped from the director¡¯s box.


    "Nice catch!"


    Despite Swansea¡¯s dominance, City weren¡¯t content to just sit back. In the 12th minute, they found their first real counter-attacking opportunity, just two minutes after Swansea had threatened with a dangerous attack.


    Gallas intercepted a pass in midfield and quickly fed the ball to Cafu, who turned and played a precise through-ball to Emile Heskey in the middle.


    The towering striker surged down the left, cutting inside to create space. He had options¡ªhe could pass to Solskj?r in the box or take the shot himself.


    He chose the latter.


    Heskey curled a shot toward the bottom corner, but Freestone, Swansea¡¯s keeper, reacted swiftly, diving to make the save.


    Richard shook his head and sighed. "Should¡¯ve squared it to Solskj?r. Emile¡¯s rushing his decisions again."


    It remained 0-0, but at least City had shown they could be a threat on the counter.


    Richard rubbed his chin in thought. This time, O¡¯Neill had chosen a midfield trio of Ian Ferguson, Mike Phelan, and Tony Grant, with Phelan positioned just in front of Gallas.


    "They haven¡¯t broken through yet, but Phelan¡¯s becoming a weakness," Richard murmured.


    It exposed a significant flaw in O¡¯Neill¡¯s setup, as Swansea consistently took advantage of Mike Phelan¡¯s habit of being a step slow with his passes.


    At Manchester United, Phelan could afford to take his time, shielded by players like Bryan Robson, Wallace, Neil Webb and Paul Ince. But in City¡¯s system, the moment he received the ball, Swansea¡¯s players immediately swarmed him, forcing him into mistakes.


    Richard made a mental note of this. If O¡¯Neill hadn¡¯t made any changes and still opted to use Phelan in the second half, he decided it was time to be ruthless. Even he could see the issue from here, and as a manager, if O¡¯Neill hadn¡¯t noticed it yet, it meant it might be time for a change in leadership.


    The referee blew the whistle for halftime.


    Halftime Score: 0-0.


    O¡¯Neill walked into the dressing room, his mind already working through possible adjustments. The players sat down, exhausted from defending for 45 minutes, but their legs weren¡¯t as heavy as Swansea¡¯s players, who had been running nonstop.


    "We¡¯re doing well," O¡¯Neill said, pacing in front of them. "They haven¡¯t broken through. Given¡¯s been excellent. Campbell and Ferdinand are keeping the defense tight. Gallas has also played well to disrupt them."


    He paused. "But we need to be smarter. Our counters aren¡¯t dangerous enough. We¡¯re giving the ball away too cheaply."


    He turned to Phelan


    "You¡¯re getting bullied in midfield. When you get the ball, move it faster. Don¡¯t wait for them to close you down."


    Phelan nodded, still catching his breath. In the first half, his task was to organize City¡¯s defense to contain the Swans¡¯ threat. As a player-manager, it was easier for him to coordinate the team directly on the pitch. Now, his job was done¡ªbut still, talking is always easier than doing it on the field. Physically, he was spent.


    O¡¯Neill shook his head at the situation, then glanced at his bench. He needed fresh legs in attack. After a brief moment of thought, he made his decision.


    "Keith, you¡¯re in. Phelan, you¡¯re off."


    The 17-year-old Keith Gillespie looked up in surprise. "Me, boss?"


    O¡¯Neill nodded. "I need more pace on the right. Get forward whenever we counter."


    Ever since the three loanees¡ªIan Ferguson, Tony Grant, and Ian Taylor¡ªreturned from injury, his place in the starting lineup had been in jeopardy. He hadn¡¯t featured much lately, and today was his chance to make an impact.


    Gillespie took a deep breath and nodded with determination.


    O¡¯Neill clapped his hands together. "Alright, keep it tight at the back, and when we attack, commit to it. One goal could win this."


    The players stood up, ready for the second half.


    Richard watched as the City players emerged from the tunnel for the second half.


    When he saw the fourth official signal the substitution¡ªveteran midfielder Mike Phelan being replaced by Keith Gillespie¡ªhe let out a quiet sigh of relief before settling back into his seat.


    O¡¯Neill walked onto the pitch briefly and gathered his midfielders around him.


    "Don¡¯t hesitate," he said firmly. "Run at them. They won¡¯t expect it."


    The players nodded, determination gleaming in their eyes.


    "And it looks like there¡¯s a change for Manchester City as we begin the second half. Coming off is Mike Phelan, and he¡¯s being replaced by the 17-year-old Keith Gillespie," the commentator announced.


    The whistle blew, and right from the start, Swansea continued their aggressive approach¡ªthey launched a rapid attack.


    "Swansea are forcing City to retreat deep into their own half. The big question now is: how long can they withstand this sustained pressure from the Swans?" the commentator said.


    Campbell, Ferdinand, and Gallas held the defensive line well, repelling cross after cross.


    Then, in the 59th minute, Swansea threatened again.


    A winger broke free down the right flank and whipped in a dangerous cross.


    Shay Given reacted instantly¡ªdiving to his right and getting a fingertip to the shot.


    The ball deflected off the post and was cleared away by Ferdinand into an open patch of space on the left side of the pitch.


    Right on cue, Ronaldo burst onto the scene.


    He pounced on the loose ball and tore down the left wing at full speed, igniting the crowd with hope.


    "Ferdinand clears it... oh no!! Ronaldo has it...!"


    With Swansea playing an aggressive high line, their full-backs had pushed too far forward¡ªleaving space behind, with only the two center-backs guarding the area.


    2 vs 2!


    Ronaldo & Emile Heskey vs. Michel Basham & Mark Clode.


    But one thing they forgot¡ªthe alien¡¯s specialty is dribbling.


    Ronaldo collected the ball from deep, spun on a dime, and launched himself into the heart of the Swans¡¯ defense.


    Michel Basham sprang in front of him. Seeing the defender approach, Ronaldo deliberately slowed his pace, inviting Basham to close the gap.


    He gave the illusion of control, allowing Basham a moment to settle¡ªjust enough to make him comfortable before taking him on.


    Just as Basham relaxed for a moment, Ronaldo flicked the ball with the outside of his right foot, nudging it slightly outward¡ªmaking it seem like he was about to cut inside to the right.


    Basham, biting on the movement, lunged to intercept, his eyes fixed on the ball drifting away.


    But before his right foot could even make contact, Ronaldo¡ªquick as lightning¡ªsnapped the ball back in the opposite direction with a smooth blur of motion, dragging it back with the inside of his right foot.


    Basham, who had already shifted his weight to the right, was completely caught off guard. He froze for a split second, stunned¡ªbut before he could recover and turn back to the left, his balance gave out, and he stumbled to the ground. By the time he realized what had happened, it was already too late.


    "Bloody hell!" he punched the grass, helpless as he watched Ronaldo¡¯s back disappearing down the pitch like the wind.


    A collective gasp swept through the stadium, followed by a thunderous ROAR as Ronaldo burst forward.


    Some fans jumped to their feet, shouting, "WOOO!" or "Did you see that?!"


    "Oh my word! Ronaldo just sent Basham to another dimension!" the commentator screamed. "What a move¡ªpure magic from the Brazilian!"


    One down, now it¡¯s 2 vs 1, and it¡¯s already easy.


    This time, Ronaldo didn¡¯t need to do much. He passed to Heskey, who squeezed the ball back to him.


    With a single touch, he rounded the goalkeeper and slotted the ball home, all done at high speed, as if playing on an ice rink.


    Manchester City 1 - 0 Swansea City


    It all started with Ronaldo¡ªthe moment that broke the dam and unleashed a flood of City goals.


    62nd minute. Ronaldo received the ball at the edge of the box. In an instant, both Basham and McClode converged on him, desperate to shut him down.


    But it didn¡¯t matter.


    With a body feint and a quick twist of his hips, Ronaldo twisted like a snake and slipped between the two defenders like water through cracks.


    He opened up just enough space on his right foot and curled the ball with precision¡ªbending it beyond the keeper¡¯s reach and into the top corner.


    A goal so perfect, even Richard stood up and applauded.


    Manchester City 2 - 0 Swansea City


    67th Minute


    City wouldn¡¯t stop.


    A simple cutback from Cafu.


    A simple tap-in from Ronaldo.


    Manchester City 3 ¨C 0 Swansea City.


    "HAT-TRICK! HAT-TRICK again! 30 goals this season! My god¡ªare we witnessing the birth of a new star in English football?!"


    77th Minute S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Ronaldo dribbled through three defenders, danced into the box, and chipped it over Emile Heskey


    A goal so disrespectful that even some City fans laughed.


    Manchester City 4 ¨C 0 Swansea City.


    The high morale that once radiated from the confident Swans had now shifted to City.


    "You put your right foot in~"


    "You drag the ball out~"


    "You do the Ronaldo, and you turn them about~"


    "You stick the ball past the keeper¡¯s head~"


    "The ball¡¯s in the back of the net~"


    "Oh, Ronaldo, oh, Ronaldo~"


    "Oh, Ronaldo, that¡¯s what it¡¯s all about~"


    The chants rang out across the whole of Maine Road, and City were still hungry.


    A simple one-two between Ronaldo and Heskey tore apart the last bit of Swansea¡¯s shape, and their backline barely reacted as Roberto Carlos ghosted into the box, completely unmarked.


    A pass to Cafu, who had spotted him.


    A soft, delicate lofted pass¡ªa beautiful switch of play from right to left. All of Swansea¡¯s defenders, caught in the chaos, could only watch, mouths agape, as the ball soared through the air.


    Roberto Carlos lowered his body, his eyes locked on the incoming ball. He had all the time in the world.


    BANG!


    A thunderous volley.


    Manchester City 5 ¨C 0 Swansea City.

 Chapter 141: Crucial Match

    Chapter 141: Crucial MatchCity¡¯s demolition once again sent shockwaves through the Second Division, leaving clubs like Birmingham City and Brentford visibly shaken.


    Birmingham had already served as the first warning. Some still believed their collapse had been a one-off¡ªchalked up to the pressure of leading the table or simply being caught off guard. But after City¡¯s recent 5¨C0 obliteration of Swansea, that narrative was quickly unraveling.


    Now, fans, pundits, and media alike were scrambling for answers.


    Tabloids ran wild with headlines. On talk shows, ex-players debated. And in pubs, online forums, and radio call-ins across the country, one question echoed:


    [...Are Manchester City too good for this league?...]


    What happened to Manchester City? How did their performance suddenly transform¡ªespecially with the season nearing its end?


    Just months ago, they were mid-table, plagued with inconsistency, injuries, and questions surrounding management. But now?


    They¡¯re dismantling teams with the swagger of title contenders. Something had clearly changed.


    Was it the arrival of Ronaldo? The return of key players? A tactical shift? Or perhaps something deeper behind the scenes?


    The media didn¡¯t know the full story yet¡ªbut everyone agreed on one thing: City were no longer the same team they were at the start of the season.


    The next day, Richard was sitting as usual in his office, comfortably reviewing the latest results of the high-performance team concept he had been sketching over the past few months, drawing references from journals and other sources.


    High Performance Team work domains:


    1. Medical


    2. Strength and Conditioning


    3. Sport Science (e.g., load monitoring, nutrition, etc)


    4. Psychology


    5. Scouting


    6. Analysis


    7. Research


    8. Others or non-appropriate (N/A)


    Every department needs at least one leader, and areas like Psychology, Sports Science or Research are still relatively unfamiliar in today¡¯s football world.


    "Let¡¯s start with medical, strength and conditioning first then," Richard mumbled, circling the first two.


    Done with it, he rose from his seat, grabbed his car keys, and prepared to head to the airport.


    At ten in the morning, Richard and Frank Shepherd were waiting to pick up Gordon Barry, who had just returned from Brazil.


    This time, Gordon¡¯s contribution was substantial. He had worked his way into convincing Pel¨¦, and he was also the one to propose key strategies:


    First, pit The Sun against Wythenshawe Hospital, using the Royal Family¡¯s name to stir public sentiment. What do American businessmen care about most? Money. They can¡¯t afford to lose their loyal, fanatical readers¡ªespecially those who are Royal Family enthusiasts.


    Second, use Pel¨¦¡¯s influence to silence the CBF and strip them of their control over Brazilian football. At the same time, make it more difficult for Jo?o Havelange to secure re-election as FIFA president.


    Third, shift the narrative from Ronaldo¡¯s collapse to food poisoning, providing effective damage control. No one would know that Ronaldo¡¯s collapse was due to stress¡ªor any other reason.


    These were the three strategies Gordon had outlined during his earlier meetings with O¡¯Neill and Frank Shepherd.


    He had gone to Brazil and used his position as a senior barrister to persuade the current Minister of Sports, Pel¨¦¡ªwho, coincidentally, needed funds to pass his Pel¨¦ Law¡ªto lobby politicians, particularly the president, to approve the law.


    Frank Shepherd took care of Ronaldo¡¯s case, spreading and amplifying the story about the CBF president, ensuring it quickly made its way into the Brazilian media.


    O¡¯Neill, for his part, managed the press conference with The Sun and enlisted Wythenshawe Hospital¡¯s patron to pressure the newspaper into quieting down and minimizing their coverage for the time being.


    As for the catering, that was just an added bonus. Richard had spotted an opportunity when he wanted to integrate City¡¯s kitchen into the High Team¡¯s Performance division for next season.


    When he learned that the subsidiary was owned by the Lee consortium, he knew that, essentially, he needed to get rid of it. So, Ronaldo¡¯s collapse, in fact, was a blessing in disguise for him.


    Richard gave Gordon a hug and whispered, "Better check your paycheck next month," a playful glint in his eyes as he laughed.


    Current second division table:


    Birmingham City ¨C 77 Points


    Brentford ¨C 77 Points


    Manchester City ¨C 74 Points


    Bristol Rovers ¨C 72 Points


    Blackpool ¨C 71 Points


    Wycombe Wanderers ¨C 70 Points


    Current remaining matches: Leyton Orient (Home), Bradford City (Away), Colchester (Away), and Rotherham United (Home).


    The fans were back for the next league game, and their opponents were at the bottom of the league, with no hope of avoiding relegation.


    Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu were not played and sat on the bench with O¡¯Neill, aiming to rest them for the final three matches.


    Solskjaer and Shaun Goater started, while Tony Vaughan and Richard Jobson replaced Roberto Carlos and Cafu. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With expectations so high among City fans, the visitors were well aware that the hosts would be under tremendous pressure in what was bound to be a nervous atmosphere¡ªunlike them, who could play freely as they had nothing to lose.


    It was Leyton who felt they should have had the chance to take the lead when Richard Jobson¡¯s clumsy tackle on Leyton¡¯s number 3 could have easily resulted in a penalty.


    Phweee!


    The referee pointed to the penalty spot, and Maine Road erupted in frustration. Players immediately began to argue, tensions rising to the point of near brawl.


    Alex Inglethorpe stepped up to the penalty spot, his focus intense as the stadium fell into a hushed silence. Every pair of eyes in the crowd seemed fixed on him.


    He took a deep breath, then started his run-up, the ball in his sights. With a swift, confident strike, he sent it flying toward the bottom corner of the goal.


    The goalkeeper dived to his left, stretching out his fingertips, but the ball skidded just wide of the post, missing by inches.


    A collective gasp echoed through the stands, followed by an eruption of cheers from the home crowd. The missed opportunity was a bitter blow for Inglethorpe, but for the home team, it was a moment of salvation.


    "You beauty!" one supporter yelled, clapping wildly as others joined in, raising their hands in jubilation.


    The atmosphere shifted from nervous tension to jubilant celebration as the City fans rallied behind their team, shouting louder than before, ready to back their players for the rest of the match.


    Finally, the chance came just before the first half ended.


    Solskj?r, stepping into Ronaldo¡¯s role by dropping deep¡ªthough not quite as effective¡ªmanaged to whip in a deep cross from the right. Goater bundled the ball past Paul Heald, sending the home fans into a frenzy.


    But something happened. Leyton Orient players immediately appealed furiously, claiming the ball had struck Goater¡¯s arm.


    Despite the protests, the referee let the goal stand.


    "That¡¯s how it¡¯s done! Classic Goater! He doesn¡¯t care how it goes in¡ªas long as it does go in!"


    He continued, his voice rising above the roar of the crowd,


    "Leyton¡¯s players are fuming, waving their arms at the referee, but the goal stands! Goater won¡¯t mind one bit. That¡¯s number eleven for the season, and maybe the scrappiest yet¡ªbut they all count!"


    Manchester City 1 - 0 Leyton Orient.


    The Blues scraped through to keep their hopes of automatic promotion alive by beating Leyton at Maine Road.


    In a post-match interview, Shaun Goater addressed the controversy surrounding his decisive goal. Leyton Orient players had fervently appealed for handball, but Goater was quick to dismiss the claims.


    "It was off the chest!" he insisted. "I was so pleased to see that go in¡ªabsolutely delighted. With the cross that came in, it was one of those situations where, if I¡¯d gone to head it, I would¡¯ve needed to dive. But it wasn¡¯t too low, so I just stooped and used my chest. I was only about four yards out, and I knew that once I chested it, it would cross the line, because the cross had already beaten the goalkeeper."


    After the match, City fans¡ªand even Richard¡ªwaited nervously for the results of the Brentford and Birmingham games.


    Soon, news filtered through the media: Brentford had beaten Preston, but Birmingham had lost again¡ªthis time to Huddersfield Town!


    Current second division table:


    1. Brentford ¨C 80 Points


    2. Birmingham City ¨C 77 Points


    3. Manchester City ¨C 77 Points


    4. Bristol Rovers ¨C 75 Points


    5. Blackpool ¨C 72 Points


    6. Wycombe Wanderers ¨C 70 Points


    7. Bradford City ¨C 70 Points


    Current remaining matches: Bradford City (Away), Colchester (Away), and Rotherham United (Home).


    Fixture 44: Bradford City vs Manchester City


    City came into the match unbeaten in their last 11 league games, firmly focused on securing automatic promotion. Meanwhile, Bradford City were eyeing a late surge to overtake Wycombe and Blackpool, aiming to climb from 7th to 5th place in the standings and secure a playoff spot.


    Tension had been simmering throughout the match, but it finally boiled over in the 75th minute. A late, crunching tackle near the touchline sent Emile Heskey tumbling into the advertising boards.


    Youngster Keith Gillespie, full of energy but also hot-headed, didn¡¯t just stand by. Already on a yellow card, he reacted impulsively¡ªpushing the culprit, Wayne Jacobs, one of Bradford¡¯s defenders, and sending him tumbling to the ground.


    That was the trigger. A mini-melee erupted.


    Immediately, players from both teams swarmed in. Shoves were exchanged. Words were shouted¡ªfaces inches apart, eyes blazing. A few players tried to play peacemakers, arms outstretched, holding others back, but the escalation was rapid.


    The referee blew his whistle repeatedly, sprinting toward the chaos, while the fourth official frantically tried to calm both dugouts. The crowd roared¡ªnot just in support, but in sheer disbelief at the unfolding drama.


    Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, order was restored.


    Two players received stern warnings, but then the referee turned toward the main culprits of the incident.


    Four red cards!


    Emile Heskey and youngster Keith Gillespie were sent off for City, while Wayne Jacobs and Richard Liburd¡ªBradford¡¯s most involved players in the scuffle¡ªwere also shown straight reds.


    With both teams reduced to nine men, the match opened up¡ªand eventually, the goals flowed for City.


    They secured a 2¨C0 win at Valley Parade, with Ronaldo, Cafu and Roberto Carlos capitalizing on the extra space and looser marking.


    With the trio of Brazilians bombing down the center, right, and left, who could stand it?


    The result mathematically ended Bradford¡¯s hopes of securing their dream promotion to the First Division, while putting City one step closer to theirs.


    Suddenly...


    "BIRMINGHAM OUT!"


    The sudden shout pierced through the buzz of the crowd at Valley Parade like a fire alarm.


    Richard jolted in his seat, spilling a bit of coffee onto his trousers. He turned sharply, eyes darting toward the source of the commotion.


    Just a few rows behind him, a City fan was already on his feet, waving his phone and grinning like a man possessed.


    "Out?" a fan beside him blinked, still processing. "You sure?!"


    The shouting fan nodded furiously, phone still raised as others around him leaned in to confirm. "My friend just called me. Final whistle just went¡ªHuddersfield held ¡¯em! They¡¯re done! They¡¯re OUT!"


    A ripple of excitement coursed through the away end like electricity. Richard couldn¡¯t help but rise too, stunned by the sheer suddenness of it all.


    The sudden defeat of Birmingham allowed City to catapult into second place, changing the entire landscape of the promotion race.


    Just months ago, it had been a tightly contested battle among several clubs¡ªbut now, the picture was clear. With Birmingham falling off the pace, it had effectively become a two-horse race.


    From this point on, all eyes were on Manchester City and Brentford.

 Chapter 142: A Dominant City & A Statement of Victory

    Chapter 142: A Dominant City & A Statement of VictoryEverton won the FA Cup with a 1¨C0 victory over Manchester United at Wembley Stadium.


    The Football League Cup Final between Liverpool and Bolton Wanderers was won by Liverpool, with two goals scored by Steve McManaman. His standout performance earned him the Alan Hardaker Trophy as Man of the Match.


    In the FA Premier League, the title race was set for a dramatic finale¡ªmuch like in the Second Division¡ªwith two decisive matches set to determine whether the champions would be Manchester United or Blackburn Rovers.


    "Sir, journalist friends, I¡¯m sorry, but you can¡¯t enter!"


    The group of reporters stopped in their tracks, stunned. They exchanged glances before turning questioning eyes toward the security guard at Maine Road.


    One of them stepped forward hesitantly. "We¡¯re sorry, sir. We just want to ask Mr. O¡¯Neill a few questions. It won¡¯t interfere with the team¡¯s training."


    Though polite, their request was met with a firm shake of the head. The security guard¡¯s demeanor didn¡¯t waver.


    "I¡¯m sorry, gentlemen, but today¡¯s training session is being held behind closed doors. No one is allowed near the pitch or to observe from the sidelines. If you wish to interview the coach, he¡¯ll make himself available after the session."


    "So, we¡¯re just expected to wait around for him?" one reporter snapped, frustration clearly mounting.


    That was Daniel Ford from The Sun¡ªthe same journalist who had interviewed Richard back when he¡¯d just been discharged from the hospital (Chapter 8, "Interview").


    The security guard didn¡¯t flinch. He kept his tone measured but firm. "You¡¯re welcome to wait in the designated media area. Coffee¡¯s fresh, and the press officer will let you know the moment Coach O¡¯Neill is ready."


    Of course, as an experienced journalist from The Sun, giving up wasn¡¯t in his nature. He decided to throw out some bait.


    "Is this Mr. O¡¯Neill¡¯s way of asserting dominance?" Ford prodded, unwilling to back down.


    The guard frowned, uneasy. But then he remembered exactly who had given the order. That settled it.


    The security guard offered a diplomatic smile. "That¡¯s entirely up to you."


    The Sun, which had once maintained a good relationship with Richard, had long since been blacklisted due to their increasingly intrusive reporting and sensationalized headlines about Ronaldo. Trust, once broken, wasn¡¯t so easily repaired.


    Without another word, Ford turned on his heel, his coat flaring slightly as he strode off.


    A few more journalists followed suit, mumbling to each other about deadlines and lost exclusives.


    By the time O¡¯Neill finished the morning training session and made his way to the office, only two journalists remained¡ªa female reporter from Mirror Sport and Alan Hansen from the BBC.


    (Chapter 35: Day One with Pundit Richard ¡ª Alan Hansen (BBC))


    "Karren Brady, a reporter from Mirror Sport," the young woman said as she rose to shake O¡¯Neill¡¯s hand. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me."


    O¡¯Neill surveyed the empty room with a wry smile. "You two are the only ones who stayed? That¡¯s some dedication."


    He wasn¡¯t aware of Richard¡¯s hidden instruction to allow only these two media outlets for the interview. Essentially, Richard¡¯s message to him was, "You can accept it or ignore them," but O¡¯Neill knew better how important it was to maintain a good relationship with the media.


    After all, a manager¡¯s job depends on performance¡ªand at a club like City, this was definitely not his first and certainly not his last¡ªso it was in his best interest to stay on good terms with the press.


    "Martin O¡¯Neill ," the coach introduced himself, noting the reporter¡¯s earnest demeanor. "Go ahead. What would you like to know?"


    Both reporters took out their notebooks and pens, their movements brisk and professional.


    "16 matches, and in two months, you¡¯ve gone from 5th to 2nd place, now fighting for the top spot. What¡¯s your take on the situation?"


    "What else? We fight... fight to the end."


    "Do you genuinely believe you can overtake Brentford?" Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s smile widened. "Can you guarantee that what I¡¯m about to say will be published in the Mirror Sport or BBC tomorrow?"


    Karren Brady, as a regular reporter, naturally couldn¡¯t give the promised guarantee. But Alan Hansen, being a senior reporter and editor, considered the question before nodding confidently. "Yes, I promise."


    Satisfied, O¡¯Neill straightened up. "I¡¯ve told my players they¡¯ve already done their job by getting us into a position where people don¡¯t believe we can challenge. If anyone doubts them, they don¡¯t know what it takes to play for this club. The real pressure is on those who think they¡¯re already there."


    And so, for the next fifteen minutes, O¡¯Neill had already played his mind games.


    Time passed, and the interview was done.


    As BBC¡¯s Alan Hansen climbed into a taxi, Karren remained in the parking lot, waiting for her own ride. She was still staring at the hastily scrawled note in her notebook, trying to make sense of it all.


    "Miss Karren?"


    The sudden voice caught her off guard. She turned around, and to her surprise, she was greeted by the sight of Richard, smiling at her.


    Richard extended his hand, "Mark already told me it was his apprentice who would be coming here. So, I¡¯m curious¡ªwhat kind of person managed to persuade him to step aside?"


    Just like Daniel Ford from The Sun, Mark Henshaw from Mirror Sport had also interviewed Richard when he left the hospital (Chapter 8, "Interview").


    The difference now was that Mark, having aged, had passed on the responsibility to his apprentice¡ªKarren.


    After a brief moment of being taken aback, Karren composed herself and smiled, shaking his hand. "I guess I¡¯ve just been doing my best to prove myself. It¡¯s not an easy role to fill, but I¡¯m here to get the job done, just like everyone else."


    Though her response seemed polite and professional, the underlying message was clear: ¡¯You¡¯re wrong about me. I¡¯m not an easy woman. Whatever reason the youngest British billionaire has for greeting me personally, it won¡¯t change anything. I¡¯m a reporter here, just like anyone else.¡¯


    Richard chuckled softly, not particularly concerned about her thoughts. He then reached for his business card and handed it to Karren.


    "My position as Director of Media and Public Affairs is still open. Let me know if you¡¯re interested," he said before turning to walk away.


    Karren stood frozen, staring at the card, almost in disbelief. Her hand trembled as she took in the words written on it.


    ¡¯Manchester City Director of Media and Public Affairs?¡¯


    Behind her, Richard continued walking, with O¡¯Neill following closely behind. As they passed by, O¡¯Neill glanced at him, his eyebrow raised in curiosity.


    "Are you interested in her?"


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched slightly before he responded, "No," he said decisively.


    "Then why did you suddenly offer her the job?"


    "Why? Because I want to offer her the job."


    "But you¡¯ve only just met her."


    "Sometimes, it¡¯s not about the history you share with someone. It¡¯s about seeing potential, even after just a brief conversation. She has that potential. Just like all the players I¡¯ve recruited¡ªthey¡¯ve all passed through my eyes first," he said, before turning and continuing his walk.


    O¡¯Neill stood still for a moment, deep in thought, watching Richard¡¯s back as he walked away. Of course, that was all nonsense from Richard. The real reason was that he knew exactly who Karren Brady was.


    ¡¯The future appointed vice-chairman of West Ham United, who went toe to toe with Tottenham¡¯s Daniel Levy over a fraud case.¡¯


    But in the end, it was up to her whether she chose to accept his offer.


    As O¡¯Neill¡¯s footsteps approached, Richard shifted the focus and asked, "What about Colchester?"


    "No worries, the squad is ready," O¡¯Neill replied without missing a beat.


    Fixture 45: Manchester City vs Colchester United F.C.


    Colchester was supposed to be an easy opponent, especially considering that this season, after their promotion from the fourth-tier league, they had already changed managers three times due to poor results.


    Two months ago, the U¡¯s looked well placed to claim a play-off position, but with just two points earned from the last nine games, Colchester had eventually dropped to 10th, twelve points adrift of the play-off spots


    Before the match, Robertson walked in and sat across from him. "You¡¯ve seen the reports?" he asked.


    O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t even glance up. His eyes remained fixed on the tactical board.


    "Is it about Colchester?" he replied flatly.


    "No, it¡¯s about¡ª"


    "Then don¡¯t bother," O¡¯Neill cut him off, voice cold. "Focus."


    Robertson hesitated. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say more¡ªbut instead, he sighed and surrendered to silence.


    Without another word, he slid the newspaper into the drawer of the desk. But in his haste¡ªor perhaps reluctance¡ªthe drawer didn¡¯t fully close.


    It remained slightly ajar. A sliver of newsprint peeked out, just enough to catch the eye.


    And if anyone happened to glance closely, they would¡¯ve read the headlines still visible on the pink pages of Italy¡¯s most renowned sports dailies:


    Corriere dello Sport: An unnamed Inter executive was quoted as saying the club admires 21-year-old Brazilian left-back Roberto Carlos.


    "We¡¯re short on left-backs at the moment, relying only on Paolo Tramezzani. But we¡¯ll see in the future¡ªafter all, he¡¯s currently playing for another club."


    La Gazzetta dello Sport: Sources close to AS Roma have confirmed the club¡¯s growing interest in Brazilian full-back Cafu.


    "It¡¯s all speculation. We don¡¯t play four in the back, but everything is still in Mazzone¡¯s hands."


    PHWEEE!!


    Kickoff ¨C First Half Begins


    Colchester came out flying in the opening minutes¡ªplaying with real aggression, as if it were a do-or-die mission. They looked determined to catch City off guard and sneak in an early goal before sitting deep.


    Their winger tried to slip a ball into the box, but Gallas read it brilliantly¡ªintercepting and quickly playing it into Cafu.


    Cafu took one touch and surged forward.


    Ronaldo, Solskjaer, and Roberto Carlos burst into space on the left.


    The crowd at Layer Road held its breath¡ªsensing danger.


    Cafu picked his moment and slid a perfect pass through the middle¡ªSolskjaer was in!


    He sprinted into the box, one-on-one with the keeper.


    He opened up his body... and calmly slotted it into the bottom corner!


    GOAL!


    0 ¨C 1 to Manchester City!


    The rest of the match was far more comfortable for City.


    They pushed high up the pitch, pinning Colchester back and controlling possession with ease. The hosts¡¯ early aggression quickly faded¡ªthey were no longer allowed to play in their comfort zone. City simply didn¡¯t let them out.


    21st minute: Ian Ferguson unleashed a thunderous strike from distance¡ªColchester¡¯s keeper got down quickly and made a brilliant save.


    25th minute: A dangerous free kick for City. Roberto Carlos stepped up and launched a rocket¡ªit rattled the crossbar!


    29th minute: Ronaldo weaved inside from the left and curled a beautiful shot¡ªOFF THE POST!


    Over the span of 10 minutes, City dominated, peppering the goal with wave after wave of attacks.


    From the touchline, O¡¯Neill bellowed, trying to rally his side:


    "Stay compact! Keep frustrating them!"


    Richard, sitting in the stands, turned to Miss Heysen, who was on the phone with someone.


    "How is it?" he asked.


    Miss Heysen shook her head and replied, "Brentford has taken the lead. It¡¯s already 1-0 over Blackpool."


    Finally, in the 44th minute, that moment came.


    Cafu delivered a pinpoint cross into the box.


    Solskj?r ghosted in at the back post like an assassin, lost his marker, and calmly headed it past the Colchester keeper.


    "Easy for City now, they already lead by 2 goals!" the commentator exclaimed.


    Colchester United 0 ¨C 2 to Manchester City


    "Richard! Richard! It¡¯s a goal¡ªa GOAL!!" Miss Heysen shrieked beside him, suddenly yanking on his arm repeatedly making Richard annoyed.


    "I know, I know¡ª"


    "It¡¯s a goal!" she insisted.


    "Yes, I know. Solskj?r just scored!"


    "No! Not City¡ªBrentford! Brentford just conceded a goal to Brighton!"


    "..."


    Richard froze mid-blink.


    He and Miss Heysen were now sitting among a packed crowd of other fans¡ªand everyone had heard her.


    All heads slowly turned.


    Dozens of eyes now locked onto Miss Heysen like she had just announced the apocalypse.


    PHWEEE!!


    The final whistle blew.


    The scoreline stayed at 0¨C2 for Manchester City.


    The players clapped and waved toward the stands¡ªtoward the corner where the City fans were gathered.


    But...


    Something was off. Everyone noticed it.


    The fans... weren¡¯t cheering.


    They were standing. Silent. Their backs turned to the pitch.


    "Why are they... turning away from us?" Solskj?r muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.


    Even the Colchester players¡ªwho had already accepted their fate¡ªlooked confused as they exchanged greetings and jerseys with the City players.


    One second.


    Two seconds.


    Six seconds.


    And then¡ª


    BOOM.


    The City section erupted in wild celebration. Richard, who had been nervously chewing gum at first, spat it out mid-roar, jumped from his seat like a man possessed, and began pumping both fists in the air¡ªbefore he suddenly stopped, noticing a security guard slowly creeping toward him, walkie-talkie in hand, whispering:


    "We¡¯ve got a wild one in Row 7."


    Others were just as confused, as only a small section of the stands began celebrating late¡ªuntil a man suddenly ripped off his shirt, spun it like a helicopter, and yelled: "BRENTFORD DREW WITH BRIGHTON!!!"


    Solskj?r, Campbell, and Ferdinand all sprinted toward the stand and hugged the fans, who greeted them with kisses.


    Campbell instinctively lifted the nearest person into the air like Rafiki holding Simba¡ªonly to realize, in horror, that it was the referee.


    "S-sorry, ref¡ª"


    But the referee just shook his head before showing him the yellow card.


    Campbell sighed, then immediately started complaining as he looked around for the person he actually wanted to lift.


    And then he saw him.


    The 17-year-old Gallas, usually quiet, had slipped into the stands for the first time since joining City¡ªand was now joining the celebration, roaring like a maniac.

 Chapter 143: Prior to the Decisive Game

    Chapter 143: Prior to the Decisive GameThe atmosphere surrounding Manchester City reached a fever pitch as the season approached its conclusion. City overtook the Bees at the top of the Second Division, becoming the talk of local fans in recent days.


    Rumors are also swirling around Manchester City.


    The problem is that the rumors aren¡¯t about how City set a record with an impossible 16-match winning streak, but rather about several of their key players becoming targets for other clubs.


    Second Division Table:


    1. Manchester City ¨C 83 Points


    2. Brentford ¨C 82 Points


    3. Bristol Rovers ¨C 79 Points


    4. Birmingham City ¨C 77 Points


    5. Wycombe Wanderers ¨C 76 Points


    6. Blackpool ¨C 75 Points


    7. Bradford City ¨C 74 Points


    Amid media speculation, O¡¯Neill urged the players to stay silent and focus solely on the upcoming match.


    During this period, no one on the team gave interviews, met with fans, or engaged in any media-related activities.


    In City¡¯s locker room, O¡¯Neill stood before his players, flanked by John Robertson (Assistant), Steve Walford (Coach), and Terry Gennoe (GK Coach).


    The tension was palpable, a heavy silence draped over the room as the team prepared for what could be their final match together.


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s gaze swept across the players, and his voice carried a rare softness as he began to speak.


    "I know many of you are conflicted right now," he said, pausing to let the words sink in. "Despite our unbeaten streak since March, the situation here hasn¡¯t improved."


    The players were confused. That was a very strange opening. What did he mean by ¡¯the situation here hasn¡¯t improved¡¯?


    "And I know some of you are already in contact with other clubs," O¡¯Neill continued, his tone calm but direct. "Premier League clubs, First Division, or even clubs beyond England."


    Some players winced, and a wave of murmurs rippled through the locker room. O¡¯Neill raised a hand to quiet them.


    "Don¡¯t worry," he said, offering a faint smile. "I don¡¯t blame you. How could I? Premier League, First Division, and Second Division. Even if we get promoted, so what? There¡¯s still another season ahead, and I can¡¯t ask you to gamble your future on this club when even I can¡¯t be certain of mine next season."


    "..."


    The room froze. Players stared at O¡¯Neill in stunned silence, and even Robertson, Walford, and Gennoe exchanged wide-eyed looks of disbelief.


    O¡¯Neill admitting uncertainty about his own future was something none of them had expected, but he didn¡¯t let their minds wander.


    "You heard me," O¡¯Neill said, acknowledging their reactions. "I¡¯ve always believed in being honest with you, and this is no different. This club has given us a platform to show the world what we¡¯re capable of, but we all know its struggles run deep. No one can fault you for looking for stability¡ªplayers like you deserve it."


    The weight of his words hung in the air. O¡¯Neill¡¯s admission was raw, unvarnished, and it struck a chord with the players. He could see it in their eyes: a mixture of gratitude, respect, and a hint of sadness.


    "But that doesn¡¯t mean we give up now," he said, his voice firm, his gaze sharp. "We¡¯ve fought together through every challenge this season. We¡¯ve built something special here, and for those of you who¡¯ve decided to move on, think of this: what better way to leave than on a high note? Promotion to the First Division isn¡¯t just a gift to the club¡ªit¡¯s a statement. It shows your determination, your professionalism, and your ability to thrive under pressure. It gives you more bargaining power wherever you go next."


    O¡¯Neill looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each player.


    "I¡¯m not asking you to stay," he continued. "That¡¯s not realistic, and it¡¯s not fair. But I am asking you to give everything you¡¯ve got, not for the management, not even for me¡ªbut for the fans who¡¯ve supported you since the beginning of the season. They deserve to see you at your best, one last time."


    The room remained silent, but the atmosphere shifted. The players, while still uncertain about their futures, seemed more focused, more motivated.


    "Yeah, there¡¯s still one match left, and everything is on the line."


    "So..."


    BANG!


    O¡¯Neill practically slammed the tactical board as it nearly broke from the force.


    "We can¡¯t be careless¡ªnot now! Just one match, that¡¯s all it takes, and everything we¡¯ve worked for could vanish. One mistake and it¡¯s over. That¡¯s why we need to be sharper, more focused, more united than ever. We can¡¯t afford to lose. Not this game. Not now!"


    The task ahead was monumental, but for one last time, they would step onto the pitch together as a team, determined to give their all.


    Final Fixture 46: Manchester City vs Rotherham United


    Richard stood in the parking lot outside Maine Road, the morning rain clinging to the air with a damp chill that did little to calm his nerves.


    His eyes scanned the rows of vehicles until he finally spotted it¡ªa familiar, slightly weathered Rover 100, its dull paint glinting faintly under the gray sky. The license plate was instantly recognizable.


    The car rolled into a designated parking spot and came to a gentle stop. A moment later, the door opened.


    Anna Maddox stepped out, her face lighting up the instant she saw her son.


    "Richard!" she called, her voice full of warmth.


    "Mom!" he replied, already moving toward her.


    He pulled her into a tight embrace, and for a brief moment, the weight of the day lifted. In his mother¡¯s arms, everything felt a little steadier.


    Then came Bryan Maddox, his father, climbing out from the passenger side with the familiar swagger of a man who had seen his share of stadiums.


    "So this is the famous Maine Road, huh?" Bryan said, giving Richard a hearty slap on the shoulder. "Not bad. Reminds me of Old Trafford back in the day."


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched at the comment. He¡¯d briefly considered hugging his father too¡ªbut now, he thought better of it.


    After his father and mother, finally his brother, the new Maddox Entertainment CEO, stepped out of the car. Richard was about to greet him when he noticed Harry wasn¡¯t alone. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Harry, this is...?" Richard asked, taken aback, staring at the woman Harry was holding by the arm.


    Harry cleared his throat, trying to remain calm. "Let me introduce you, Richard. This is your future sister-in-law. We¡¯ve already planned the wedding¡ª"


    "FUCK¡ª"


    "RICHARD, LANGUAGE!!!"


    Richard winced at his mother¡¯s sudden rebuke, realizing how loud he had been. He quickly apologized, then pulled Harry aside, his eyes wide with disbelief. "So fast? Where did you meet her? I barely know about this."


    Harry awkwardly coughed, his face reddening. "Richard, you¡¯ve been so busy selling football tickets lately that you didn¡¯t notice what was going on with your own brother¡ª"


    "Alright, enough with that. A few months ago, we barely even spoke at the meeting, and now you¡¯re telling me you¡¯re getting married? Don¡¯t bullshit me. Tell me exactly what happened. How did I not know about this? You didn¡¯t tell Mom or Dad, either!"


    Harry let out a long sigh, clearly regretting the situation. He rubbed the back of his neck, carefully avoiding eye contact with Richard. "I know, I know¡ªit¡¯s all happening pretty fast. But... promise me you won¡¯t tell Mom and Dad yet, alright?" He glanced around nervously, as if expecting someone to overhear. "She¡¯s my girlfriend from Oxford and... well, sometimes things just... happen."


    "What do you mean?


    Harry¡¯s face turned red, his breath uneven. "You know how it is¡ªthings get complicated when you¡¯re trying to keep it all under wraps."


    Richard frowned, unimpressed. "Complicated? I think you¡ª"


    He stopped mid-sentence, jaw nearly hitting the ground as realization dawned on him.


    Harry sighed again, looking genuinely remorseful. "Look, I didn¡¯t want to make it a big deal. But we¡¯re serious about each other, okay? I just didn¡¯t want to tell Mom and Dad yet because... well, we both know how they¡¯ll react. So... we¡¯re planning to get married as soon as possible. To, you know... cover everything up."


    "You¡¯re a bloody¡ª"


    "Harry! Richard! What are you two doing?"


    The sudden voice sent a chill down both their spines. They turned around quickly to see their mother walking toward them.


    "Just talking, Mom!" Richard said, forcing a smile as Harry nodded innocently beside him.


    "We¡¯ll talk later!" Richard whispered, nudging him as they entered Maine Road.


    Soon people also arrive at Marine Road and they are all acquaintance of Richard.


    Fay Loan (CEO of Maddox Auto), Alan Mulally (CEO of Rover Group), Stuart Olm (CEO of Maddox Property), and the special VIP guests he invited¡ªJoanne Rowling and her daughter Jessica, Ric Turner (owner of the Bluemoon-MCFC website), and especially Dr. Mark Waller, the former Sheffield Wednesday doctor who saved his life after he banged his head on the goalpost so hard it nearly killed him. (Chapter 2: Force Retirement)


    As soon as Richard spotted Dr. Waller in the crowd, he didn¡¯t hesitate. With a wide smile and eyes already misting, he moved forward and wrapped the man in a firm, grateful hug.


    "Dr. Waller," he said, his voice thick with emotion.


    Dr. Waller, now the Dean of the Medical School at the University of Manchester, chuckled warmly and patted Richard¡¯s back. "You gave us all quite a scare that day. But seeing you now¡ªthriving, leading¡ªmakes every second worth it."


    "Haha, still, I owe you more than I can ever repay. That goalpost nearly ended everything. And now... well, look at this." He gestured around the stadium. "One more match. One more shot."


    Dr. Waller smiled. "Then make it count."


    "Of course," Richard said decisively.


    Maine Road was full of noise. 25,000 fans had packed the stadium, their chants echoing through the stands like a tidal wave of emotion.


    Oasis songwriter Noel Gallagher, known as a die-hard Manchester City fan, was spotted in the stands just before kick-off, wearing sunglasses and a serious expression on his face.


    "And would you look at that, folks¡ªwe¡¯ve got rock royalty in the house! Noel Gallagher, frontman of Oasis and lifelong City fan, is here with us today!"


    The camera cut to Noel, who gave a relaxed wave as the commentator approached for a quick on-the-spot interview.


    "Noel, great to see you! What are you most looking forward to about today¡¯s match?"


    "Well, first of all, I¡¯m hoping City don¡¯t bottle it. But honestly, if they pull it off and win promotion today..." He paused. "Let¡¯s just say Oasis might be signing a contract with Maddox Entertainment sooner than expected."


    The crowd roared, the commentator let out a stunned laugh, and people instantly lit up with speculation.


    "You heard it here first, folks! Not just promotion on the line¡ªpossibly the return of Oasis, courtesy of Maddox Entertainment!"


    Hearing this, Richard was taken aback. He turned to eye his brother, who simply grinned and gave a nod.


    In the locker room, the tension was palpable, but O¡¯Neill¡¯s focus was sharp. "Their main threat today," he said, "comes from two players: Desmond Hazel and Imre V¨¢radi. They¡¯ve been in great form."


    If they lose and Brentford wins, then mathematically, they will have to compete in the playoffs, which will shorten their vacation and make everything uncertain once again.


    Everything they¡¯ve worked for up until now, including their 16-match winning streak, will be in vain. And if things come to the worst, he warned them, another season in such a lowly league would be disastrous, not only in financial terms for the club but also for him and their careers as players.


    The players nodded, each one steeling themselves for the battle ahead. There was no time to relax or second-guess; they had to be sharp, focused, and disciplined.


    "Let¡¯s make this count, lads," O¡¯Neill concluded. "This is our moment. Let¡¯s do it for the team, for the club, and for your futures."


    The players stood a little taller now, ready to face the challenge that awaited them on the pitch.


    PHWEEE!


    A long whistle signaled the start of the first half.


    Rotherham, as always, aimed to make an early impact, hoping to catch City off guard by attacking their early-season weaknesses: the midfield. However, they quickly realized their forwards were visibly dispirited, struggling to get any momentum in their attacks.


    Their attempts at playing through balls were consistently thwarted by Gallas, who read the game brilliantly.


    With no other choice, they reverted to their old style and started playing long balls. Yet, when faced with the towering presence of Campbell, they found it just as difficult to gain any ground in aerial duels, with Ferdinand always ready to back him up.


    10th Minute: Rotherham attacking player on the left flank readied himself to deliver a high ball into the box but instead opted for a low cross.


    Unfortunately, in his attempt to break through, he was intercepted by Roberto Carlos, who quickly sent the ball to Ronaldo.


    Before anyone could react, a swift tackle from behind sent Ronaldo sprawling to the ground. The crowd gasped in unison as the referee¡¯s whistle pierced the air.


    O¡¯Neill, seething with outrage, stormed to the edge of the technical area and shouted toward the pitch, "What the hell was that? That was a clear foul! Damn it¡ªcall the foul!"


    Ronaldo lay there for a moment, dazed and clutching his knee.


    When Richard saw it, he stood up instantly.

 Chapter 144: Damn you, referee!

    Chapter 144: Damn you, referee!The referee immediately rushed over, signaling for the medic to come onto the pitch.


    O¡¯Neill stood on the sidelines, fists clenched, watching intently as the medic knelt beside Ronaldo.


    Tension swept through the stadium as fans held their breath, waiting to see if Ronaldo was okay.


    Meanwhile, the referee pulled out a yellow card, showing it to the player who had made the reckless challenge. But all eyes remained fixed on the fallen Ronaldo.


    Ronaldo slowly rose, wincing with each step. His teammates gathered around him, offering words of encouragement, but it was clear the injury was affecting his movement.


    "I¡¯m fine, I¡¯m fine," Ronaldo said, trying to brush off the pain.


    He adjusted his boots, gave a brief nod to the referee to signal he was ready to continue, and made a gesture to O¡¯Neill indicating he was okay¡ªprompting a sigh of relief from the coach.


    15th Minute:


    With just a minute of normal time gone, only five minutes had passed. Solskj?r was tackled just as he was about to shoot, but the ball rebounded to Ronaldo, who slammed it home through a sea of legs.


    "Oh, what a chance! He had the perfect angle, but the ball drifts wide!"


    The crowd groaned collectively as the ball rolled harmlessly past the post. Though it seemed like just another missed opportunity, Richard frowned deeply. Why shoot instead of dribbling?


    "Ref!!!" O¡¯Neill shouted, his voice cutting through the noise. He stormed to the edge of his technical area, arms flailing in protest. "That¡¯s a penalty on Solskj?r! Every day of the week!"


    Yet the referee remained unmoved, ignoring O¡¯Neill¡¯s pleas and signaling for the match to continue.


    28th Minute:


    "Ref!!" O¡¯Neill¡¯s voice echoed across the technical area as he threw his hands into the air after yet another questionable tackle on Roberto Carlos went unpunished.


    "That was a foul!" he shouted, turning to the fourth official. "Are we being punished for something?!"


    34th Minute:


    City surged forward again. Cafu slipped past two defenders and cut into the box, only to be brought down from behind. The crowd leapt to their feet¡ªsurely this time! But the referee simply signaled for a goal kick.


    O¡¯Neill was livid. He stepped out of the technical area, pointing furiously. "That¡¯s the third one! Third! And still no card?! You¡¯re setting a dangerous tone here!"


    43th Minute:


    Rotherham United had effectively parked the bus, turning every City attack into a frustrating near-miss.


    Their defensive shape unexpectedly was tight, their discipline impressive, and their physicality increasingly noticeable¡ªleaving City with little room to operate. But just as tension gripped the stadium, City surged forward with another promising attack.


    "We¡¯re almost there, just a little bit more!" O¡¯Neill muttered.


    Cafu raced down the wing and broke through the defense. He whipped in a cross, aiming for Solskj?r, who had already raised his hand, signaling for it.


    The ball curled wickedly toward the near post. Solskj?r leapt, twisting mid-air to meet it with a glancing header. The ball zipped goalward, beating the keeper¡ª


    "GOAAALLLL!" Maine Road erupted in sheer ecstasy.


    "Ole Gunnar Solskj?r again!!!"


    "Well done!" O¡¯Neill shouted, pumping his fist as he watched the ball crash into the back of the net. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    PHWEEEE!


    The City players were ready to celebrate with the ecstatic Solskj?r, but just then, the sharp whistle of the referee cut through the air. He stood near the goal area, pointing to the ground¡ªImre V¨¢radi was lying there!


    "The goal does not count! What a startling turn of events..." the commentator exclaimed. "Solskj?r¡¯s goal has been ruled out. The referee believes that during his jump, he pressed down on Imre V¨¢radi. But honestly... this decision will surely stir some controversy. And wait¡ªwhat¡¯s happening now on the sidelines?"


    Incensed, O¡¯Neill kicked a water bottle, sending it skidding down the sideline. In his view, it had been a perfectly good goal¡ªone that couldn¡¯t have been better¡ªbut the referee had inexplicably ruled it out.


    His outburst quickly drew the attention of the fourth official.


    "Mr. O¡¯Neill, you¡¯d better restrain yourself," the official warned sternly as he approached. "I don¡¯t want the referee coming over to show you a red card¡ªand I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t want that either."


    At that moment, O¡¯Neill looked ready to explode, but Robertson quickly stepped in and pulled him back.


    "I¡¯m sorry¡ªthis won¡¯t happen again," Robertson said to the fourth official, doing his best to calm the situation and lead O¡¯Neill away.


    "Let go of me! That damn¡ª" O¡¯Neill continued to vent his frustration, but this time, Robertson quickly covered his mouth.


    "Shut up, Martin! Do you want to get sent off now? The match isn¡¯t over yet!" Robertson, usually obedient and deferential to O¡¯Neill, snapped sharply, his tone cutting through the tension like a knife.


    O¡¯Neill froze, momentarily stunned. Then, slowly, he straightened up and scratched his head.


    "You¡¯re right, John... I nearly lost sight of the bigger picture. Thanks for pulling me back."


    Regaining his composure, O¡¯Neill marched back to the touchline and cupped his hands around his mouth.


    "Don¡¯t let it get to you! Keep pressing forward¡ªwe¡¯re still in this!" he bellowed.


    The fourth official heard O¡¯Neill¡¯s words, looked distrustfully at him, but he finally found no trouble.


    "Solskj?r looks a little dejected. The first goal he scored for City disappeared just like that. But he¡¯s a good lad¡ªa striker with great potential. I believe that, in time, he¡¯ll be Norway¡¯s new leading man up front," the commentator said, speaking of the future.


    "Bloody moron!" Solskj?r clenched his fists. He could swear on his future that he hadn¡¯t pressed anyone down.


    The first half was a bit of a letdown as a spectacle, with play largely one-sided but no goals to show for it. In the final minutes, neither side was willing to commit too much, leading to a lack of decisive action.


    O¡¯Neill gloomily walked toward the locker room, planning to give his players a stern talk when his eyes were drawn to Ronaldo.


    The forward was sitting with the team medic, his knees wrapped in ice packs. Just then, the external medic hired from Wythenshawe Hospital approached him, a serious expression on his face.


    "He¡¯s in some pain, but it¡¯s too early to say how serious it is. We¡¯ll need to run some tests, but for now, the ice should help reduce the swelling."


    O¡¯Neill exhaled sharply, rubbing his hand through his hair. "Not now... not when we need him most."


    Ronaldo, having seen the medic speaking with O¡¯Neill, felt a surge of anxiety. Without hesitation, he stood up and made his way over to the coach. "No, coach, I can still play."


    He wasn¡¯t about to miss the final moments, not when his teammates needed him, and certainly not while sitting on the bench, waiting as they fought alone.


    What about the fans?


    No, he had promised himself that he would lead the team out, no matter how much pain he had to endure.


    O¡¯Neill hesitated. He didn¡¯t answer Ronaldo but instead turned to the medic. "What do you think?"


    The medic glanced at Ronaldo, then back at O¡¯Neill. "He¡¯s pushing it, but if he insists, I can¡¯t stop him. But we need to keep an eye on him. He could make it worse."


    After all, his role was to advise, not to make the final call. Still, he couldn¡¯t help but give them a warning. "But if he goes out there, it¡¯s on him¡ªand you."


    O¡¯Neill rubbed his temples, feeling a headache brewing.


    Ronaldo was filled with anxiety. He actually wasn¡¯t overly worried about Rotherham, even though City were still goalless, because he knew that, at the end of the day, he¡¯d be able to score. He could feel it instinctively¡ªhe just needed time. He was so close to breaking their defense wide open.


    The pressure was mounting, and it was becoming clear that time was running out.


    "Ten minutes. If you¡¯re going back in, then you¡¯ve got ten minutes after that. No more," O¡¯Neill finally said, his voice firm.


    Then he turned to the medic and gave a single nod.


    The medic returned the nod in understanding. He shrugged slightly, then turned to Ronaldo. "Follow me."


    Soon, while O¡¯Neill gave his talk during the halftime break, Ronaldo was in another room as the Wythenshawe medic skillfully drained fluid from Ronaldo¡¯s knee before the second half and administered a painkiller to alleviate the aching and continual throbbing.


    Afterward, the medic watched as Ronaldo took a few small steps, testing his knee. "How does it feel?" the medic asked, observing his movements closely.


    Ronaldo gave a slight nod, trying to hide the discomfort, and offered a faint smile. "It¡¯s better, but... still a bit sore. I¡¯ll be fine," he said


    If Richard were in the locker room, he¡¯d probably tear apart O¡¯Neill because he knew what was at stake. Unfortunately, he couldn¡¯t be there. He had too many guests to entertain, and also his family who came to watch the match.


    PHWEEE!!!


    The sound of the whistle echoed through the stadium, signaling the start of the second half. Ronaldo jogged back onto the pitch, his knee still a bit stiff, but the painkiller was working as he pushed through the discomfort.


    ¡¯Ten minutes... ten minutes... ten minutes,¡¯ he chanted to himself.


    ¡¯One goal... one goal... one goal.¡¯ Just like Ronaldo chanted to himself, Richard also repeated the mantra to himself because he knew, one goal.


    Only one goal, and he knew Rotherham was done for.


    However, he never expected that, what came was a red card, and the one shown the red card was... O¡¯Neill!!!


    Richard was left speechless.

 Chapter 145: Given? No, he is ’Shay,’ the hero!

    Chapter 145: Given? No, he is ¡¯Shay,¡¯ the hero!Author¡¯s Note


    1. First of all, I sincerely apologize to everyone who left a comment and didn¡¯t receive a reply. As some of you may know, we recently welcomed a new addition to our family¡ªour baby boy. Unfortunately, he developed a high fever, followed by a distinctive rash. The doctor diagnosed it as roseola, and to make matters worse, by the end of the day, all of us had come down with a fever too (¨i©n¨i). Thank you for your patience¡ªI¡¯ll catch up on comments as soon as I can!


    2. Sorry for the delay¡ªthis Chapter is a long one!


    ---


    "If your team loses, does that mean you¡¯re out of the league?"


    Richard shook his head with a small smile. "Winning the Second Division doesn¡¯t mean much on its own. What matters is promotion."


    "So if you lose now, does that mean you¡¯ve already lost your chance for promotion?" she asked again.


    "Of course not," Richard replied. "Even if we lose, we still have the playoffs to fight for promotion. But I¡¯m really hoping we can secure automatic promotion."


    His mother nodded, deciding not to ask any more questions, and soon joined her future daughter-in-law, who was playing with little Jessica.


    At first, Anna had watched the match with interest¡ªit was her first time experiencing a football game. But she soon found it dull, and decided it was better to spend time playing with Miss Rowling and her daughter.


    Richard then turned to his brother, Harry. "I never knew you had the ability to persuade Oasis to join your agency."


    From what he knew, Oasis was already an established band, and their single "Some Might Say" had recently become their first number-one hit in the UK.


    Harry was momentarily surprised by the question, then realized what Richard meant. He finished chewing his food before replying, "They didn¡¯t sign with us¡ªI bought their label."


    He went on to explain that instead of chasing Oasis directly, he had acquired Creation Records Ltd, the British independent label that represented them. Their recent attempt to launch a sub-label under Warner Brothers had failed, forcing them to release several artists from their roster.


    "So yeah," Harry continued. "Following that unsuccessful project, they were forced to let go of some of their artists and bands. Many left the label¡ªexcept Oasis. I stepped in quickly and promised they¡¯d be the center of our full support. That made them think twice about leaving."


    "So who else have you got right now?" Richard asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Just two¡ªOasis and Radiohead."


    Richard nodded thoughtfully, not intending to get involved, then turned his attention back to the pitch as the players began returning to the field. However, before he could fully focus, Harry nudged him, making him turn.


    Harry took a sip of water, cleared his throat, and said, "Give me an idea."


    "An idea about what?"


    "Don¡¯t play coy. You¡¯re good at this. Just like when you suggested ¡¯Creep¡¯ to be pushed in the US after it flopped here. Who do you think might blow up next?"


    The single "Creep" by Radiohead, when it was first released, was met with mixed reactions; however, if anything, it was largely unfavorable.


    The band began receiving attention in the British music press, with most describing them as a lily-livered excuse for a rock band. "Creep" was even blacklisted by BBC Radio 1 for being "too depressing."


    Harry was the one who became depressed in the end, which made their parents worry. With no other choice, they called Richard for help.


    Richard, with no other option, came up with a plan to revitalize Radiohead¡¯s career. He decided to have Radiohead work with American producers, leveraging his connections with McMahon and Anschutz Corporation.


    His strategy included an aggressive tour in America, hoping to build a strong following there before returning to the UK. The result? An instant hit.


    "Creep" became a "slacker anthem" in the vein of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana and "Loser" by Beck.


    With a sigh, Richard decided to jot down a few names on a piece of paper¡ªbands and artists he believed would rise to fame in the future: Chris Martin from Coldplay, the Spice Girls who had recently left Heart Management, Robbie Williams who was dealing with a drug overdose scandal, and the Irish rock band The Cranberries, who had recently scrapped their latest work, fired their manager, and were currently in a state of limbo.


    "Give them the freedom to pursue their passion, let them create without unnecessary restrictions. Your role is to support them, provide guidance when needed, and ensure they avoid any pitfalls that could hinder their progress. Alright, we¡¯ll stop here; the match is about to start now."


    Harry wanted to ask where Richard got all these names from, but seeing that Richard had already turned his attention back to the pitch, he could only swallow his words.


    Richard watched as the City players and the Rotherham players made their way onto the field, each team preparing for the second half.


    PHWEEEE!


    The whistle blew, and the match resumed. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Just moments into the second half¡ªbarely a minute in¡ªCafu once again exploded down the wing, slicing through the defense with ease. He delivered a pinpoint cross, nearly identical to the one he sent in the 43rd minute.


    Solskj?r timed his run perfectly, met the ball in front of goal, and gracefully lobbed it toward the net.


    The football slammed into the back of the net!


    But before the City players or fans could erupt in celebration, the assistant referee intervened. His flag was raised, held parallel to the ground, pointing toward the far side¡ªoffside.


    O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t understand the call. He pointed at himself, silently mouthing, "What?" But the assistant referee didn¡¯t respond. He simply kept his gaze forward, his flag steady in the air, as though O¡¯Neill weren¡¯t even there


    Other City players rushed over, protesting the call. A loud, angry buzz rose from the stands, the fans directing their frustration at the officials.


    On the sideline, the fourth official glanced nervously at O¡¯Neill. He remembered the coach¡¯s fiery reaction in the first half and braced for another outburst. But to his surprise, O¡¯Neill just turned toward the technical area, arms open in disbelief, and said nothing.


    He walked back to the bench and sat down beside his assistant.


    "Martin, are you alright?" Robertson asked quietly.


    "What can I do?" O¡¯Neill muttered, watching his players continue to argue. "John, we¡¯ve already lost this match. With referees like this... they¡¯ve clearly been bought."


    Robertson¡¯s eyes widened in shock. He immediately clamped a hand over O¡¯Neill¡¯s mouth, panicking that someone might have overheard.


    O¡¯Neill slumped on the bench, buried his head in his arms, and sat in silence¡ªdefeated.


    Robertson didn¡¯t know what to say as he watched O¡¯Neill sink into despair. They had played a solid match, pressing high and creating chances, but now they were being forced to accept the reality of a blatantly biased referee.


    "Martin... you did everything you could. No one could¡¯ve predicted the referee would be this¡ª"


    Before he could finish, Robertson noticed O¡¯Neill had already risen to his feet and was walking briskly toward the tunnel.


    "Martin! Where are you going?" he called out.


    "Back inside," O¡¯Neill replied, without slowing down.


    "What? The match isn¡¯t even over!"


    "You handle it for me," O¡¯Neill said, still not turning back.


    "But you¡¯ve got the press conference! I can¡¯t speak on your behalf!"


    O¡¯Neill stopped in his tracks. For a moment, he stood there, shoulders tense, thinking. Then, with a dismissive wave, he said, "Alright. I¡¯ll go," before continuing on without another word.


    Watching his stubborn figure disappear down the tunnel, Robertson let out a heavy sigh. He honestly didn¡¯t know what to do with him anymore.


    "Emile, warm up. You¡¯re going in," he said to Emile Heskey, who sat further down the bench.


    He glanced at his watch, remembering that Ronaldo could only play for ten minutes. Just as he was about to turn around¡ª


    "YEEAAAHHHHH!!!"


    A thunderous roar exploded from the Main Road stands, startling him. He spun around in shock.


    And there it was¡ªchaos.


    A sea of blue shirts had swarmed one corner of the pitch.


    City players were surrounding Ronaldo, piling onto him near the corner flag in a euphoric celebration. Arms raised, fists clenched, they screamed in triumph, bouncing with unrestrained joy.


    He blinked. ¡¯What just happened?¡¯


    "What happened?"


    "I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s just¡ª" Robertson started to speak but was cut off as his eyes widened, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest when he saw O¡¯Neill suddenly appear out of nowhere.


    "God, you shocked me!"


    But O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t seem to care. He excitedly shook his hands, "What happened?" he asked, genuinely curious.


    Robertson shook his head, still trying to process the situation. "I¡ªI didn¡¯t see it! Did you?" he asked, glancing at Walford, the other coach, who had been watching.


    Walford then stepped in to help filled the void.


    It happened in the 55th minute¡ªRonaldo received the ball just inside his own half, deep in midfield. Three Rotherham players immediately closed in on him. One tried to drag him down by his jersey, but Ronaldo shrugged him off without breaking stride.


    He switched gears instantly.


    Surging forward, he dribbled past one defender, then another. A third defender lunged in with a desperate sliding tackle¡ªRonaldo simply skipped over it, the ball still glued to his feet.


    Now at full speed, he sprinted toward the penalty box. A final defender rushed to stop him¡ªno chance. Ronaldo delicately nudged the ball past him with the outside of his boot, still completely in control.


    Now in full sprint, he raced toward the edge of the penalty box. Another defender rushed to intercept¡ªno chance. Ronaldo nudged the ball past him with the outside of his boot, still in full control.


    With remarkable balance and pace, he weaved through the remaining defenders and coolly slotted the ball into the bottom corner of the net.


    The crowd erupted in astonishment.


    Even the Rotherham coach, kneeling on the sideline, hands on his head in disbelief, couldn¡¯t believe what he had just witnessed.


    "I knew it! I knew it!" O¡¯Neill muttered to himself, still in shock.


    After that, the first thing he did was run toward the referee and the officials, furiously shouting, "I know it! You fucking idiot!! How can you disallow a solo goal like that?! Bloody moron! Your license should be revoked, you stupid cunt!!!"


    He went to vent his fury toward them, which earned him his very first yellow card as a manager.


    Manchester City 1 - 0 Rotherham United


    After the goal, O¡¯Neill became more energized, shouting enthusiastically from the sidelines.


    In the 61st minute, he who originally planned to play Ronaldo for longer, frowned as he saw Ronaldo¡¯s movements looking a bit labored. He called out for a substitution.


    "Emile Heskey, Tony Vaughan, Nick Fenton, for Ronaldo, Solskj?r, and Keith Gillespie!" the commentator then announced. "City seem to be preparing to pack the punch with these changes."


    When Ronaldo reached the sidelines, he extended his hand toward O¡¯Neill.


    "I said it right? I definitely scored today!"


    O¡¯Neill nodded and gave him a hug. "Nice work. Go take a shower in the locker room."


    Ronaldo shook his head. "No, I don¡¯t want to go back to the locker room just yet. I have to be with everyone."


    O¡¯Neill smiled, grateful, as he patted Ronaldo on the back. "Then you stay here," he said, signaling the medic to check on Ronaldo.


    After he saw Ronaldo sitting in his chair, fingers crossed as if the lads had already finished the job, O¡¯Neill finally managed to focus on the match.


    There was no hope for Rotherham, as City basically camped in their half, rendering all of Rotherham¡¯s efforts pointless¡ªthey couldn¡¯t even get possession of the ball.


    Time ticked into the 90th minute, and then the board went up¡ªfive minutes of added time.O¡¯Neil stood with his mouth agape, hearing the collective gasp from the City fans around him.


    Five minutes of hell ¡ª that¡¯s what it felt like.


    Every City fan was clinging to hope and fraying nerves, silently (and not-so-silently) begging the referee: ¡¯Blow the whistle, we¡¯ve had enough.¡¯ Some were already wiping away tears, heads in hands, unable to watch.


    Every second seemed to stretch on, as if the match was stuck in slow motion. And then¡ªthe 95th minute. It was Rotherham¡¯s last real chance of the entire second half, but even that was just a stray ball.


    A long ball floated into the box. It bounced awkwardly. Campbell, desperate to clear, lunged¡ªand caught the attacker instead. The stadium froze. City hearts stopped.


    The striker went down. Imre V¨¢radi again.


    PHWEEEE!!!


    A moment of stunned silence¡ªthen an explosion of noise. City fans roared with fury and disbelief. The players swarmed the referee, arms raised, shouting in protest. The City bench was in chaos¡ªsome on their feet, others frozen, hands clasped in prayer.


    And then came the final moment.


    While the referee was still explaining the decision to City players, O¡¯Neill had already marched up to him, squared up, and shouted in his face, voice shaking with rage: "Are you watching the same game we are?!"


    Even Richard, who was seated in the director¡¯s box, had no choice but to excuse himself from the guests¡ªhe had to step in personally.


    The referee was down.


    O¡¯Neill had headbutted him.


    PHWEEE~


    A red card!!!


    After the players pulled O¡¯Neill back to the bench, Richard, who had already left the director¡¯s box and made his way to the stand near the City bench, shouted directly into O¡¯Neill¡¯s face, grabbing him by the shoulders.


    "CALM DOWN! TRUST SHAY!"


    O¡¯Neill, his eyes wild with fury, looked like a man possessed. But it was the sound of Richard¡¯s familiar voice that finally cut through the chaos. His breathing began to slow, the fire in his eyes dimmed¡ªjust enough. Reluctantly, he let himself be pulled back.


    The silence that followed was deafening. No one spoke. All eyes shifted to the penalty spot.


    The referee, the headbutted victim, stood expressionless. Rattled but back on his feet, he raised his arm as the penalty was about to begin.


    PHWEEE!!!


    The moment the whistle blew, the stadium erupted. Slurs, curses, chants¡ªscreaming insults and anger¡ªunleashed a wave of frustration and desperation.


    "You traitor!"


    "You¡¯ll always be a City reject!"


    "Go back to where you came from, you snake!"


    "You¡¯ll never be one of us!"


    Imre V¨¢radi, who played for Manchester City from 1986 to 1988, was about to face a barrage of abuse. Richard, however, was relieved that the penalty was being taken in front of the City fan stands.


    V¨¢radi stepped up, placed the ball, and stared down the keeper. He began his run.


    A thud.


    The shot was powerful¡ªbut slightly off.


    The ball struck one post with a sharp clang, spun across the goal line¡ªteasing everyone¡ªand rolled along it, as if delaying V¨¢radi¡¯s redemption.


    BANG!


    He stepped up again for his second attempt, hitting it straight down the middle. But Shay Given stood tall, saving it with his feet.


    That was it.


    Twenty five thousand fans went wild¡ª we were promoted.


    Given took off on a mad celebratory run, arms flailing in pure joy. He was so euphoric that even the players chasing behind him¡ªsome of them faster than him¡ªcouldn¡¯t catch up.


    He just kept running... and running.


    There were ten lads chasing him, and as he ran toward O¡¯Neill, who had already leaped from the stands in a desperate attempt to join the chaos on the pitch, the first person they grabbed was him. They tossed him onto the turf, and he landed right on top of him¡ªa human sandwich that no one asked for.


    It was pure mayhem. The starting lineup, bench players, and coaching staff all piled on top of him like a chaotic game of rugby. It was a team effort¡ªeveryone seemed to want a piece.


    O¡¯Neill, was gasping for air, his lungs screaming for mercy, but all he could hear was the muffled sound of bodies crushing him. Then, through the tangle of limbs and chaos, all he could see was Roberto Carlos¡¯s round face staring down at him. Desperate, he screamed, "HELP ME! I¡¯M GONNA DIE! GET OFF ME, YOU FAT BASTARD!"


    Roberto Carlos, clearly concerned but also slightly bemused, acted only when he saw the real panic in his eyes. He realized they might actually crush him to death. So, he formed a makeshift cradle with his arms to lift some of the weight off, giving him just enough space to breathe. Eventually, everyone rolled off.


    Meanwhile, Richard, perched on the stand, was about to leap down and join the celebration when suddenly, a hand gripped his shoulder tightly. He turned to find Dr. Waller standing behind him, pointing at his head.


    "If you want to die, then go!"


    Only then did Richard realize¡ªhe had nearly sent himself to an early grave.

 Chapter 146 - 1994/1995 Season Wrap-Up

    Chapter 146: 1994/1995 Season Wrap-UpThe forty-six rounds of the Second Division have come to an end, and only four teams remain to battle it out in the playoffs, with the winner earning automatic promotion to the First Division.


    Second Division Table:


    1. Manchester City ¨C 86 Points


    2. Brentford ¨C 85 Points


    3. Bristol Rovers ¨C 82 Points


    4. Wycombe Wanderers ¨C 79 Points


    5. Blackpool ¨C 78 Points


    6. Birmingham City ¨C 77 Points


    7. Bradford City ¨C 74 Points


    Automatic promotion: Manchester City.


    Playoffs: Brentford, Bristol Rovers, Wycombe Wanderers, and Blackpool.


    No one expected it¡ªBirmingham, who had held the top spot since October, shockingly lost their final three matches and crashed out of both the automatic promotion race and the playoffs. Manchester City trashed them 5-0 in March, truly breaking them beyond repair.


    As the City vs. Rotherham United match came to an end, so did the Premier League season, and Blackburn made history by clinching the title.


    Their legendary manager, Kenny Dalglish, decided to retire gracefully after this triumph. Blackburn¡¯s owner, Jack Walker, famously remarked, "This championship has put Blackburn on the map of England."


    Blackburn¡¯s attacking duo of Alan Shearer and Chris Sutton, known as "SAS," had an outstanding season. Shearer scored 34 goals to become the league¡¯s top scorer, while Sutton contributed 15 goals, solidifying his worth.


    In contrast, Manchester United fell short in a key battle, missing out on the league title. After the match, Manchester media lamented how the result could have been different if they had had Cantona. How could a small club like West Ham deny the Red Devils a last-minute title win?


    In the FA Cup final, Manchester United also lost to Everton, marking a disappointing season where the once-mighty Red Devils ended up with nothing after dominating the Premier League for two consecutive years.


    With the Premier League concluded, the curtains also fell on competitions across European football.


    Arsenal, having changed managers midway through the season, floundered in the league but soared in Europe. Unfortunately, they fell short in the final of the UEFA Cup Winners¡¯ Cup, losing in extra time to La Liga¡¯s Zaragoza.


    Italian teams continued their powerful performances, with Parma winning the UEFA Cup, while AC Milan reached the Champions League final, only to lose to another young team: Ajax!


    Thanks to a goal by Patrick Kluivert, Ajax ascended to the throne of European football, and the world gasped at the dawn of the Ajax dynasty.


    Just look at their squad:


    22-year-old Davids.


    22-year-old Overmars.


    24-year-old Litmanen.


    18-year-old Patrick Kluivert.


    25-year-old Van der Sar.


    22-year-old Reiziger.


    25-year-old De Boer brothers.


    19-year-old Seedorf.


    Everyone wondered how long this talented Ajax team would dominate European football, and it seemed inevitable that, for the next transfer season, Dutch players would be seen as valuable assets in the transfer market. The era of the Ajax dynasty was on the horizon. S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Serie A (1994¨C95): Juventus triumphed in Serie A, claiming their 24th Italian championship. They finished just ahead of AC Milan.


    La Liga (1994¨C95): Real Madrid won La Liga, finishing ahead of Deportivo La Coru?a. It was their 26th league title.


    Bundesliga (1994¨C95): Borussia Dortmund won the German Bundesliga title, finishing two points ahead of Bayern Munich.


    Ligue 1 (1994¨C95): AS Nantes won Ligue 1, with AS Monaco finishing as runners-up.


    With everyone bracing for the incoming news about transfers for the next season, no one expected that, instead of rumors flying around, First Division Manchester City would suddenly clash once again with the FA.


    Headline:


    [...Manchester City Chaos: FA Bans Martin O¡¯Neill from Touchline Access Amid Referee Controversy...]


    "The Football Association (FA) has banned O¡¯Neill, 42, from having access to the touchline and the officials¡¯ changing rooms before, during, and after matches until an indefinite time. He will also not be permitted to have access to the players¡¯ changing rooms, the pitch, and the tunnel before, during, and after fixtures. The sanction applies to England competitions and is in effect immediately."


    "He had an even more intense attitude, attempting to deliver a blow, in fact¡ªa headbutt. I didn¡¯t even have time to announce the final decision," said the referee in the interview. "We cannot tolerate behavior like this."


    The suspension is a result of O¡¯Neill¡¯s behavior in stoppage time during City¡¯s 1-0 Second Division win over Rotherham United on Sunday.


    City has since responded with a strongly worded statement.


    "The club deplores that its coach was not judged solely on his actions, but rather on an emotional reaction, without any clear intention of physically attacking the referee," the statement read.


    "In light of a sanction that seems to be dictated by a detrimental context affecting English refereeing, City announces that it is now studying all possible solutions for appeal. More than ever, the club is united and focused on its sporting objectives."


    Richard sat in his office, newspapers spread out across his desk. Every headline, every column, seemed to deepen the shadow on his face.


    In front of him stood O¡¯Neill, his coaching staff, the City legal team, and Adam Lewis¡ªan external advisor Richard had specifically brought in from Blackstone Chambers to handle the situation.


    "The real problem," Lewis said, his tone sharp, "is the FA¡¯s wording: ¡¯until an indefinite time.¡¯"


    He pointed to the printed statement with a measured tap. "That phrase is dangerously vague. It gives them unchecked power¡ªto suspend him indefinitely, with no timeline, no conditions. It¡¯s not a punishment; it¡¯s a sentence without end."


    Richard leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly but resolutely, he said, "We challenge this. The FA wants to set an example? Fine. But they¡¯ve picked the wrong club."


    He pulled every string he could. He reached out to old allies¡ªLennart Johansson from UEFA¡¯s Legal & Disciplinary Committee, Dr. Mark Waller, Dean of Central Manchester University Hospitals, and even made a rare personal appearance in the media, speaking out on Bluemoon-MCFC.


    "This is corruption. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it," Richard told reporters. "You can quote me on this: ¡¯Richard Maddox says it¡¯s corruption.¡¯ Everything has been orchestrated¡ªplanned, rigged. This is a disgrace of a championship."


    The next day, the Football Association¡¯s Head of Public Affairs issued a statement in response: "I want to make it absolutely clear: there is no corruption in English football."


    But the response FA received was far from what they expected. A highlight reel was released¡ªor to be exact, aired on BBC and ITV, and even reached Eurosport. The footage came from the highly controversial City vs. Rotherham match, and pundits across networks analyzed it from their own distinct perspectives.


    15th Minute: Solskj?r was tackled just as he was about to shoot.


    28th Minute: Another questionable challenge on Roberto Carlos.


    34th Minute: Cafu slipped past two defenders and was brought down from behind.


    43rd Minute: Solskj?r¡¯s goal was disallowed.


    47th Minute: A highly questionable offside call ruled out City¡¯s goal.


    95th Minute: The other questionable penalty decision.


    "Even if nothing justifies, you have to understand what led to that level of anger," Richard told BBC.


    He continued, "My first responsibility is to defend my club. There have been many refereeing decisions this season where I believe City have been clearly disadvantaged. After noting "the extreme severity of the unprecedented sanction, and the unusual speed" of the disciplinary committee¡¯s response, City is now considering all possible options for appeal."


    The incident comes against the backdrop of increasing criticisms of refereeing in England. City Chairman Richard Maddox was then handed a 15-game ban by the FA after alleging that his side had been the victims of corruption following their 1-0 win against Rotherham.


    But Richard didn¡¯t care.


    "We¡¯ll take this to an independent regulatory commission," Richard said firmly. "Frank, liaise with Gordon on this and let me know the results."


    He turned to O¡¯Neill. "For now, focus on the squad. Let¡¯s prepare for next season."


    With these remarks, the meeting quickly came to an end. The legal team gathered their papers, and O¡¯Neill nodded, knowing Richard had already given his word to support him until the end. His mind finally eased, as he began shifting his focus toward the upcoming season.


    Three days later, O¡¯Neill knocked on Richard¡¯s office door and entered after Richard motioned for him to come in.


    "How was the dinner? Was it good?" Richard asked, the first words he spoke upon seeing O¡¯Neill, who had just returned from London after attending the England Football Coaches Association dinner.


    Sighing, O¡¯Neill replied, "I wish I hadn¡¯t gone. The media there, all they wanted to do was talk about my case." He cursed under his breath, clearly frustrated by the relentless pursuit of those eager to uncover what happened during his headbutt incident.


    He handed Richard a document outlining the plan to extend the loans of several players, including Shay Given, Emile Heskey, Ian Ferguson, Ian Taylor, and Tony Grant. However, Richard quickly rejected the proposal.


    "None of these players are on my list for next season. It¡¯s crucial for the team¡¯s improvement. Even some of the first-team players will need to be moved on."


    After a brief silence, O¡¯Neill asked, "Do you have any targets in mind for the squad next season?"


    Richard nodded. "We need to make sure every position has qualified, quality players¡ªat least for the starting lineup. This season, we¡¯ve been too reliant on one or two players. That can¡¯t continue. We need balance for next season. Our goal is clear: we must target Premier League promotion."


    O¡¯Neill nodded in agreement, fully aligned with Richard¡¯s vision for the upcoming season. But once again, talking was easier than facing reality, especially since, as the current manager, he had no power regarding transfer decisions.


    A deep sigh escaped him as he recalled the headbutt he¡¯d delivered to that referee. He regretted his impulsive actions. He had originally thought about leaving City, but he knew he had no choice but to follow Richard¡¯s lead once again for the upcoming season. He had to rely on his to fight back against the FA¡¯s tyranny.


    "What about the list I gave you before? Which players do you intend to keep for next season? And what¡¯s your strategy for the upcoming transfer window? I should at least know."


    "Of course, some of them have already passed through my approval. Don¡¯t worry. As for next season..."


    Richard then stood up and walked over to the blackboard he usually used for planning. With a quick motion, he pulled it towards him, ready to lay out his thoughts for the upcoming season.


    Pinned across the whiteboard were two lists.


    1. One side¡ªhis current squad.Some names were circled¡ªplayers who had proven themselves, the ones he wanted to keep and build around. Others were crossed out, marking those who would be moving on.


    2. The other side¡ªa list of transfer targets (priorities):


    - A Goalkeeper


    - A midfielder to handle the physical battles in next season¡¯s First Division.


    - A midfielder to dictate the tempo.


    - A midfielder with creativity to feed the strikers.


    - A commanding center-back to lead the defense.


    - A backup striker and clinical finisher¡ªa target man who stays in front, because in the First Division, chances would be fewer, and the margin for error thinner.


    Richard picked up a marker, spinning it between his fingers. He explained everything running through his mind, detailing everything that needed to happen before the season started.


    "So much?" O¡¯Neill asked.


    "Of course," Richard replied with a simple smile.


    He then shared his thoughts on the current state of Manchester City, comparing it to Ajax, and briefly outlined his vision of adopting Ajax¡¯s system¡ªthough in a more radical way.


    "You want to focus on the youth?" O¡¯Neill frowned.


    Richard nodded in agreement.


    "But we¡¯re in the First Division now," O¡¯Neill continued. "That means the competition gets tougher, the expectations get higher, and the work gets harder."


    "What do you think about every player I¡¯ve personally brought here to City? Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, Cafu, Shay Given, Gallas, Ferdinand, Campbell, and Ole. Has any of them flopped?"


    "..."


    O¡¯Neill wanted to retort, but he knew Richard had a point. Considering his current predicament, he sighed and fell silent, accepting Richard¡¯s arrangements without protest. Now, he was trapped, with no other choice but to let Richard lead him by the nose.


    "See? You can¡¯t deny that, can you?" Richard said, satisfied with making his point.


    But O¡¯Neill couldn¡¯t help feeling a bit doubtful about Richard¡¯s approach. Relying on youth?


    At this rate, the club might crumble sooner or later.


    "And here, by the way," Richard continued, handing O¡¯Neill a folder detailing the opponents City would face in pre-season. "We¡¯re planning a short tour in Scotland."


    The next agenda item was to go over the pre-season schedule. The objectives were simple: fitness preparation, tactical development, and team bonding for the new players.


    Scotland Short Tour:


    July 10, 1995: Raith Rovers


    July 14, 1995: Hearts


    Back to England:


    July 20, 1995: Stockport


    July 25, 1995: Wolves


    August 06, 1995: Burnley

 Chapter 147: Meeting and ’Modest’ Gala Dinner

    Chapter 147: Meeting and ¡¯Modest¡¯ Gala DinnerA week passed, and after settling things with O¡¯Neill, Richard began executing his plans for City¡¯s current youth setup. He had already promised himself to revamp City¡¯s Academy and Reserve teams (as mentioned in Chapter 126: Revamping the Academy and Reserve).


    At the very least, before City entered the Premier League, he wanted the club to have a well-structured youth development system in place. But for that future to happen, there was still something he needed to do first.


    Since both Frank Shepherd and Gordon Barry were busy handling the incident involving O¡¯Neill and the referee, Richard had no choice but to consult Adam Lewis about the execution of the plan.


    After arriving with Lewis at J. Lyons and Co.¡ªone of London¡¯s older and more upscale restaurants¡ªthe two entered without delay.


    "Shame this isn¡¯t just a pleasant dinner," Richard remarked, glancing around at the elegant atmosphere.


    "You could¡¯ve come alone tomorrow."


    "Nah," Richard sighed. "Too much on my plate right now."


    Today¡¯s Agenda:


    - Meeting


    - End-of-Season Dinner


    These two were part of his agenda¡ªbut today¡¯s priority was a meeting with Philip Harris from Lloyds Banking Group and Taylor Smith from Barclays. These were the same men who had once supported his high-stakes acquisition of Rover Group with a billion-pound loan.


    A waitress led Richard and Adam Lewis into the dining room of J. Lyons & Co., one of London¡¯s most prestigious and historic establishments.


    "This way, sir, please."


    As Richard approached the table, he spotted his old acquaintances, who had already risen to greet him. Without missing a beat, he slipped off his jacket, handed it to the waitress, and took a seat across from the two bankers.


    "Were you drinking alone, without me?"


    "Can you drink on your own now?"


    He smiled warmly as he shook both their hands firmly, then gave them an amused glance. "So, how¡¯s life as Senior Relationship Manager? Is it everything you imagined?"


    The two men exchanged a glance before chuckling.


    Things weren¡¯t quite the same¡ªRichard¡¯s status had clearly changed. He was no longer just another client, and both men knew they had to tread carefully. But his easygoing demeanor quickly broke the ice, and soon enough, they were chatting like old friends again.


    "Before we continue, thank you for coming," Richard said as he settled into his seat. "I¡¯m the one who requested this meeting."


    Smith nodded, then cleared his throat. "But Richard, you mentioned this was about Manchester City," he said. "To be honest, I¡¯ve never really dealt with football before. My specialty is in wealth management and capital raising. And Harris here doesn¡¯t follow the sport either."


    "I know, I know." Richard waved his hand dismissively before gulping his orange juice and continuing, "It¡¯s about Manchester City¡ªbut not entirely."


    "Oh?"


    "I need your favor."


    "A favor?"


    Both Smith and Harris exchanged glances.


    Not giving them a chance to speak, Richard launched into an explanation of his situation.


    His plan to dismantle both the Reserve, City A and City B teams, as part of a broader effort to restructure and establish a new youth academy, faced a significant roadblock: the Youth Training Scheme (YTS).


    The YTS was a UK government initiative introduced in the 1980s, designed to provide vocational training for young people aged 16 to 18, typically as part of a formal apprenticeship program.


    These players were usually on training contracts¡ªnot yet full employees¡ªbut still enjoyed certain legal protections. In City¡¯s case, many players from both the City A and City B teams had been recruited under the YTS during the eras of both Peter Swales and Francis Lee. Only Paul Robinson, Rio Ferdinand, John Terry, and William Gallas had been promoted purely through his own decisions.


    "Then, what kind of favor are you asking for?"


    "To ensure City¡¯s financial stability¡ªprevent fraud, monitor spending, and make sure the club doesn¡¯t end up bankrupt."


    The answer caught both men off guard. They exchanged confused glances.


    "And what exactly is our role in that?" Smith asked. "Managing City¡¯s finances? Why would this be handled externally? Are you asking for another loan? Because if that¡¯s the case¡ª"


    "No, no," Richard cut in, raising a hand. "I¡¯m not asking for money. What I need is for you to quietly circulate a rumor that Maddox Group is struggling to repay its ¡ê1 billion loan."


    Both bankers¡¯ eyes widened.


    Richard leaned forward, his tone calm but deliberate. "Relax¡ªI¡¯m not actually in trouble. The finances are solid. This is just a smokescreen."


    He continued, "Let me explain. If word gets around that Maddox Group is under financial pressure, it gives me a legitimate excuse to streamline operations¡ªto consolidate departments and reduce costs. That kind of restructuring looks responsible, even necessary."


    "..."


    "Take Manchester City, for example," Richard said, lowering his voice. "To save money, we need to make tough decisions. I could use this narrative to justify shutting down the current reserve, City A and City B squads, withdraw them from their respective competitions, and stop pouring money into teams that don¡¯t bring results."


    He paused, then added, "You see where I¡¯m going with this?"


    "...!"


    ¡¯This guy¡¯s insane!¡¯


    That was the only thought running through Harris and Smith¡¯s minds. They had never heard of a football club owner willingly wanting to dismantle his own team.


    "But you¡¯ll be criticized. And what about the parents whose kids are still under contract with Manchester City? The Manpower Services Commission¡ªdo you think they¡¯ll just sit back and do nothing¡ª"


    Both men paused, their breathing quickening.


    "It¡¯s called efficiency." Richard said. "At the end of the day, the academy is unproductive. So there¡¯s nothing to worry about if I scale down it. In fact, this could stabilize the club on the surface. If we redirect that money toward wages and transfers, the team improves, results follow, and revenue increases. It¡¯s a cycle¡ªthink of it as corporate restructuring, from your perspective."


    Indeed, they weren¡¯t fools. As seasoned bankers, they could read between the lines. And this wasn¡¯t just restructuring¡ªthis was calculated disassembly.


    What could they say? The club was on the brink of bankruptcy.


    City couldn¡¯t even afford to pay contracts on schedule. The painful truth was that parents might have no choice but to follow the tide and find other clubs for their children. Even the government would be powerless to intervene under financial strain.


    "That¡¯s why I need your help. Because we signed a long-term contract, there¡¯s still plenty of time before Maddox Group defaults on its loans. But what if, as the overseer of the loan, you see during the audit that the company has inevitably hit a slump? The only thing keeping it afloat is the reserve cash, which will soon run out."


    Richard paused, then continued, "That¡¯s why I need you to be ruthless in forcing me to make drastic efficiencies."


    "But we¡¯ll take the heat," Harris said with a frown. "Managers get criticized for tactics and match results¡ªthat¡¯s expected. But this? This goes beyond football. If the story shifts to finances, it won¡¯t be your name in the headlines, Richard. It¡¯ll be ours."


    ¡¯As expected from bankers, they¡¯re shrewd.¡¯ Richard paused, taking in their concern.


    "But what if, because of your push, I manage to pay off the loan by the end of this year?"


    All eyes widened. Even Adam Lewis, who had been listening from the start, was stunned, looking at Richard. That was a fucking billion pounds!


    "Take a look," Richard said, sliding a folder across the table.


    The two bankers glanced at the folder, then back at Richard¡ªstill skeptical but now visibly engaged.


    When they opened it, their eyes widened in disbelief.


    Richard Maddox owned 40% of Netscape Corporation.


    The document included the Share Purchase Agreement and shareholder resolutions, clearly acknowledging his ownership.


    "Not a bad deal, is it?" Richard said with a slight grin.


    "I¡¯ll do the dirty work, and you take the heat for a while. Once Netscape goes public, I¡¯ll immediately sell my shares. Until then, the billion pounds will definitely be paid back to you, respectively. There¡¯s no downside for either of us."


    After that, they began discussing how to carefully execute the plan¡ªensuring that the smokescreen would be thick enough to keep outsiders in the dark.


    Fortunately for Richard, most of his investments were still in privately held companies, making it easier to keep his financial maneuvers away from the public eye. The Rover Group was still unstable and, at best, just scraping toward breakeven. His hotel ventures were complete but still not officially opened.


    And all of that formed the basis of his justification.


    Time passed, and after bidding farewell to both Philip Harris and Taylor Smith, Richard also said his goodbyes to Lewis before making his way to the banquet room, where the City End-of-Season Dinner was set to take place.


    The room had been carefully transformed into a sophisticated, yet understated, dining space. Long rectangular tables were draped in crisp white tablecloths, their edges perfectly aligned. The black leather chairs surrounding them gleamed softly under the warm lighting.


    At the far end of the room, a modest stage had been set up for speeches, with a microphone on a podium, ready for the evening¡¯s formalities. It wasn¡¯t luxurious, but it was well-organized, and for the current City, it was enough.


    Richard surveyed the space, noting the polite mingling of players, coaches, and a few key club staff members. The atmosphere was more subdued than he had hoped.


    When Ronaldo¡¯s name was announced as City Player of the Year, the room erupted into applause. Everyone clapped enthusiastically, but Richard couldn¡¯t shake the tightness in his chest.


    ¡¯Too modest,¡¯ he thought, staring at the simple setup.


    This wasn¡¯t the grand spectacle he had imagined for Manchester City. This wasn¡¯t the pinnacle of success he had once envisioned, the kind of celebration befitting a top-tier City, the one he had dreamed of.


    Taking a deep breath, Richard slowly exhaled, trying to calm the bubbling frustration that was threatening to rise. He had worked too hard, fought too much to settle for anything less than excellence. Still, he reminded himself, this was the reality for now¡ªthere was work to be done.


    "Chairman, why aren¡¯t you joining us?"


    Suddenly, O¡¯Neill¡¯s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.


    Richard looked toward him, nodded, and then said, "I¡¯m looking for you."


    "Looking for me?"


    Richard nodded again before pointing with his chin. "Let¡¯s get some fresh air." sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 148: Captain’s Departure

    Chapter 148: Captain¡¯s Departure"Phew..."


    Richard exhaled as he breathed in the cool night air before turning to O¡¯Neill.


    "Let¡¯s chat while we walk," he said, giving the other man a pat on the shoulder.


    O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t move. He pointed first to the north, then to the south, before asking, "Which way?"


    Richard raised his head and looked at the path, covered with fallen, withered leaves. "Let¡¯s just take a casual walk along this path."


    During the summertime, this path would always be sheltered by thick trees, preventing the sky from being seen.


    Richard then turned toward O¡¯Neill. "Martin, we¡¯ve had a great rapport this season, and I¡¯m confident we¡¯ll continue to do well next season¡ªand in the future.


    Now he brought up the issue.


    O¡¯Neill hesitated. To be honest, since yesterday, and even now, he had been pondering the uncertainties of his future¡ªespecially regarding the current problem with the FA referee. He had to admit, he didn¡¯t know what to do.


    "Prepare yourself, Martin," Richard said as he stopped in his tracks and looked at Martin O¡¯Neill.


    "Prepare myself for what?" O¡¯Neill¡¯s heart skipped a beat.


    Looking at his innocent face, Richard smiled. "Do you need me to spell everything out for you?" he asked before continuing, "We don¡¯t know what the FA¡¯s intention is, but if they decide to make an example of you and ban you for a long time, then even I can¡¯t do anything about it."


    "...But can you tell me roughly how long my punishment will be?"


    "I can¡¯t. Because even I don¡¯t know yet. However..." Richard raised his head and looked at the sky before continuing, "I stand with you today, and always. You made a mistake... Your apology was sincere... and your punishment is clearly too severe. We all know that."


    After the match against Rotherham, O¡¯Neill apologized for his actions, saying, "I should not have done it. Maybe we do things that are not right. I¡¯m sorry." He also wrote a letter to the match officials to express his remorse.


    "Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s not the worst."


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s face was grave. It was harsh, but it made sense. In the end, he resigned himself to accepting whatever would happen.


    "Alright, alright. I get it," Richard said, shrugging before deciding to move past the issue.


    "Oh, I forgot. There¡¯s still one more thing. Perhaps I should let you know in advance," Richard suddenly added.


    From Richard¡¯s tone, O¡¯Neill could tell that something wasn¡¯t right. He looked at Richard and waited quietly for him to finish his sentence.


    "You might have to re-select a new captain, Martin." sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "What?" Now he understood why Richard had been hesitant. "Sol is leaving the team?!"


    Richard nodded his head.


    This news left O¡¯Neill in complete shock. "How did it come to this?" he muttered to himself.


    Campbell had essentially been his anchor at the back, the one who led the defense and physically suppressed the opposition¡¯s strikers.


    "No matter what happens, next season Manchester City will only be playing in the First Division. We can¡¯t compete with Premier League teams to attract players. You know that they tend to be more attractive to young players," he explained, without any intention of shirking responsibility as he had promised to keep Campbell but failed.


    "Which team?"


    "Huh?"


    "Which team is Campbell going to?"


    "Tottenham Hotspur."


    O¡¯Neill nodded, resigned to his fate. "Aside from him, who else is leaving?"


    Richard looked at O¡¯Neill with a face full of shock. "How did you know there were other players transferring out? You¡¯re right. Shaun Goater will also be going to Tottenham with Campbell."


    "How much did Tottenham pay for the two of them?"


    "Eight million."


    "Which one is the more expensive one?"


    "You can¡¯t really compare them. Campbell was sold for seven point five million. He outclassed Goater as a defender."


    "..."


    Seeing O¡¯Neill lower his head in silence, Richard thought he might be dissatisfied with the transaction. So he explained, "Martin, you must understand the current situation at City. We¡¯re still recovering from the financial crisis after the double relegation. Eight million is not a small amount. We don¡¯t have a reason to reject the offer."


    O¡¯Neill nodded, then raised his head. "I understand, I understand. Eight million, eight million... But Chairman, no. Richard, I want to ask you a question now, not as the current manager, but as a friend¡ªand you must answer me seriously."


    Richard immediately grew serious.


    "Speak your mind, Martin."


    "What¡¯s your reason for not focusing on your other businesses, like the Rover? Why are you putting so much effort into Manchester City? What are you after? You¡¯re a businessman¡ªdon¡¯t tell me it¡¯s just because you love the club!"


    Richard was silent for a moment. O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t press him for a reply. He simply stood there, waiting for an answer.


    "Do you think I¡¯m lying if I tell you the reason is to make money?"


    O¡¯Neill studied Richard for a moment, then replied, "I believe you. But you know, there are a lot of football clubs out there, and how many of them are actually making real money?"


    "We have our own plans, Martin. Or, more precisely, I have a plan. I¡¯m the club¡¯s chairman. I¡¯m in charge of managing everything, and naturally, I don¡¯t want to make a loss out of it. Didn¡¯t Manchester United allow the Edwards family to make a fortune off of it?"


    O¡¯Neill knew he wasn¡¯t well-versed in the business side of managing a club, and he didn¡¯t want to get caught up in a topic he wasn¡¯t familiar with. So, he decided to redirect the conversation. "Alright, you have your own plans. But tell me, do you know what the main sources of income are for a football club?"


    Richard nodded his head and replied, "Of course. Broadcasting rights, matchday revenue, sponsorships, player transfers, merchandising, prize money, and other commercial activities."


    O¡¯Neill nodded. "Let me tell you from my professional perspective how to make money." He raised one finger and continued, "Broadcasting rights fees are one of the biggest sources of income. The more your team¡¯s matches get broadcasted by television stations, the more broadcast fees you will receive. You must be very clear on this point."


    "Mmm hmm," Richard nodded.


    "Then, in your opinion, between the broadcasting fees for a First Division match and a Premier League match, which one is higher?"


    "Of course, it¡¯s the Premier League."


    "Very good. Now, how many times do you think a team that just got promoted from the Second Division to the First Division can have its matches broadcasted? We are currently in the First Division, and have we gotten a substantial amount from television broadcasts? Didn¡¯t we also experience a financial crisis, just like any other team?"


    Richard shook his head. "Martin, the situation was very complicated."


    Manchester City had been relegated, and in the past decade, the club had undergone three ownership and management changes. Financial mismanagement and mounting debt forced him to implement radical changes within the club. Additionally, being outside the Premier League limited their access to the lucrative broadcasting deals enjoyed by top-tier clubs.


    "Alright, I get it. Let¡¯s shift the conversation to sponsors then. What kind of teams are able to attract global enterprises like Vodafone, Nike, Carling, Coca-Cola, Sharp, and Benz? What kind of teams have the pull to land these types of sponsors? Do you really think a newly promoted team from the Second Division can secure such deals?"


    Richard was no fool. He already had a sense of what O¡¯Neill was trying to get at, but he wasn¡¯t entirely sure.


    "Then tell me."


    "Richard, I know you want to make money¡ªbut what¡¯s the most fundamental of football here? The team needs results. We need to climb the leagues, win titles, earn glory. That¡¯s what draws attention from around the world. Only then can we talk about revenue, sponsorships, and global investment."


    He continued "I¡¯m the manager of this team. You¡¯re responsible for running the club off the pitch, and I¡¯m responsible for everything on it¡ªtraining, tactics, matches. I won¡¯t interfere with the business side, but you can¡¯t interfere with mine either. When it comes to transfers, I must have full authority¡ª"


    "Rejected," Richard cut him off before he could finish.


    "Like I said before, when it comes to transfers at City, you can make recommendations¡ªbut the final decisions will be made by me. It¡¯s just like the list of players you gave me earlier, right? Sure, I brought in some of them, but only after my own assessment confirmed they fit the plan."


    Richard was firm¡ªalmost harsh¡ªabout this philosophy. He was determined to establish it early so that every manager who joined Manchester City would understand it from day one: this was how the club operated, no exceptions.


    O¡¯Neill was deeply disappointed, but in the end, he chose not to argue further. He simply nodded.


    After done with that, both of them made their way to the first-team lounge.


    Inside, a number of players and staff had already gathered, sitting or standing around the room, engaged in quiet conversation as they watched the television. The atmosphere was tense yet expectant.


    On the screen, the CBF was holding an official press conference. The legendary coach M¨¢rio Zagallo stood at the podium, preparing to announce the squad for Brazil¡¯s upcoming Copa Am¨¦rica.


    "The first name on the list..." Zagallo began, adjusting the microphone slightly, "...Cafu."


    A loud cheer broke out in the lounge. Cafu, who had been sitting with his arms crossed, broke into a wide grin. His teammates clapped him on the back, and someone jokingly shouted, "Eh? No surprise there!"


    Zagallo continued, "Roberto Carlos."


    Roberto Carlos, sitting on the edge of a table, gave a modest nod and smiled as those around him offered handshakes and playful jabs. "Keep that left foot ready," joked Shay Given.


    The room fell silent again as everyone waited.


    "And finally..." Zagallo paused for effect. "Ronaldo."


    There was a collective exhale, followed by a round of loud applause. Ronaldo leaned back in his chair and let out a deep breath, visibly relieved.


    A few teammates surrounded him, clapping him on the shoulders. One of them said, "They¡¯d be mad not to take you."


    At the back of the room, Richard watched the scene unfold with a quiet, proud smile.


    As the press conference ended, the atmosphere in the lounge gradually relaxed. Some players returned to their conversations, others stood to stretch or grab drinks.


    It was the final day before the squad would break for the summer. For most, it meant a much-needed holiday. But for a few, it was also a farewell.


    Especially for the loan players.


    Shay Given will return to Blackburn, while Emile Heskey will go back to Leicester City. Similarly, Ian Taylor, Ian Ferguson, and Tony Grant will all return to their respective clubs.


    Around the room, quiet goodbyes began to take shape. Hugs, firm handshakes, and words of thanks were exchanged.


    These weren¡¯t loud or dramatic goodbyes¡ªjust the kind shared between professionals who¡¯d fought side by side over a long season and now had to part ways.


    "Take care of yourself," O¡¯Neill said to each of them. "Hope we meet again¡ªmaybe even here in the Premier League."


    "Wouldn¡¯t mind that," Shay Given replied, grinning as he looked forward to challenging for his place again at Blackburn.


    "They did well," said Jimmy Rouse, City¡¯s senior kit manager, who had accompanied Richard from the very start of his career at Maine Road.


    Richard nodded. "Some of them won¡¯t be back. But they helped us get through the season. That matters."


    Slowly, the group began to thin out¡ªsome heading to their cars, others lingering a bit longer to chat. As the sun dipped lower outside, the lounge gradually emptied.


    One by one, the players headed off into their summer breaks¡ªsome to rest, some to reflect, and a few, perhaps, to wonder where their next destination would be.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.


    The knock came just past midnight. Richard barely looked up before calling, "Come in."


    Three men stepped through the door.


    Mike Phelan, Ren¨¦ Meulensteen, and Steve McClaren.


    ¡¯Ah, so the time has finally arrived...¡¯ Richard thought to himself.

 Chapter 149: The Mixed Reactions

    Chapter 149: The Mixed Reactions"Alan Sugar, Tottenham¡¯s big boss, heaps praise on Sol Campbell!"


    "Tottenham Hotspur rumored to be in contact with Campbell¡¯s camp and Richard Maddox for a transfer in July!"


    "Tottenham sets City¡¯s goal, Shaun Goater, as their target to replace J¨¹rgen Klinsmann, who left for Bayern Munich!"


    "J¨¹rgen Klinsmann doesn¡¯t want to leave Hotspur, saying he was forced to buy from Alan Sugar. He retaliated by calling Sugar ¡¯a man without honor!¡¯"


    "Manchester City in crisis as clubs circle for Ronaldo!"


    Manchester City¡¯s remarkable resurgence catapulted them to become Second Division winners, and their 17-game winning streak brought their players into the spotlight.


    The sports pages were now filled with speculation, linking City¡¯s rejuvenated stars to several elite clubs. Rumors swirled, amplifying the noise around the club with each passing day.


    Robertson sat in the coach¡¯s office, flipping through The Sun as his eyes lingered on a headline accompanied by a picture of several City players, with a quote of praise predicting their bright futures.


    He exhaled sharply, tossing the newspaper onto the table and startling O¡¯Neill, who was sitting across from him.


    "Ronaldo to Barcelona? Great," Robertson muttered. "What¡¯s next? Half the team being auctioned off?"


    He then turned to O¡¯Neill and helplessly said, "Even our staff are being raided."


    Mike Phelan, who had finished the season as player/coach, was unexpectedly not given a new contract, nor was there any discussion about his role at City. He decided to leave the club. The same went for Ren¨¦ Meulensteen and Steve McClaren, who also decided to leave City last week. Their destination?


    Fucking Manchester United.


    O¡¯Neill picked up the discarded paper and skimmed the front page with a faint smirk.


    "This again?" he chuckled. "Old news."


    "How can you laugh about this?" Robertson snapped. "Aren¡¯t you worried? At all?"


    "Of course I am worried, but you don¡¯t even know the full picture yet," O¡¯Neill replied, his tone calm.


    "What do you mean?" Robertson asked, growing more curious.


    O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze locked onto the window, where he saw a familiar figure making their way toward his office.


    "Looks like the devil himself is heading this way," O¡¯Neill muttered under his breath.


    Robertson turned around, startled, and his eyes widened as he realized who was approaching.


    "Come in," O¡¯Neill said in response to a knock at the door.


    The door opened to reveal Sol Campbell, who stepped in with an awkward expression.


    "You didn¡¯t go on holiday, Sol?" Robertson asked, surprised.


    Campbell didn¡¯t answer right away. He simply shook his head and said, "I¡¯m sorry, boss," his voice laced with quiet regret.


    O¡¯Neill forced a small smile, though the disappointment was evident in his eyes. "It¡¯s okay, Sol," he replied, his voice carrying a mix of resignation and understanding.


    After a pause, he added, "Though I have to admit, it caught me off guard."


    Campbell nodded, guilt flashing across his face. "I should have told you sooner, but Mr. Sugar insisted it remain confidential until the season ended. I didn¡¯t expect it to leak to the press right after that."


    O¡¯Neill let out a sigh and stood up, moving to place a reassuring hand on Campbell¡¯s shoulder. "I understand. You¡¯ve given everything for this team, Sol. I respect your decision."


    "I¡ªI can¡¯t turn down the allure of the Premier League," Campbell said quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The offer from Tottenham... I couldn¡¯t turn it down."


    "I get it," O¡¯Neill replied, nodding. "You have to think about what¡¯s best for your career. No one can fault you for that."


    As someone who had also considered resigning after being denied any power regarding transfers, he could relate.


    There was a moment of silence before Campbell hesitated and then added, "By the way, boss, if you¡¯re interested... Sugar would like to meet you. They¡¯re putting together some plans and think you might fit into them."


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s face changed instantly, but it dimmed just as quickly.


    "Don¡¯t worry, Sol," he said, cutting off the awkward offer before it could go further. "I promise I¡¯ll come and visit. I wouldn¡¯t miss the chance to see how you¡¯re doing."


    Time passed quietly, and soon, the Copa Am¨¦rica was just around the corner.


    Clubs across Europe began to shift their focus, closely monitoring players set to feature in the tournament. Scouts, analysts, and agents turned their attention to South America, eager to uncover the next big star.


    [...Manchester City to Dismantle Its Historic Youth City A and City B Due to Heavy Debt?...]


    [...Martin O¡¯Neill¡ªDid He Take the Fall Under Pressure?...]


    [...Manchester City¡¯s Financial Crisis Deepens¡ªBankruptcy Risk Still Looms...]


    The headlines exploded across the local media¡ªthough not as explosively as Sol Campbell¡¯s move to Tottenham Hotspur. A club going bankrupt was no longer unfamiliar to the ears of British football fans.


    And it wasn¡¯t solely Richard¡¯s doing¡ªSmith and Phillips had played their parts perfectly.


    Barclays Bank Spokesperson:


    "We are in ongoing discussions with the club¡¯s management and are monitoring the situation closely. Our priority is to ensure that appropriate financial controls and obligations are met."


    Lloyds Bank Statement:


    "While we do not comment on individual clients, we are working constructively with the organization to assess its financial health and explore all available options."


    They didn¡¯t say it outright, but the message was clear¡ªthe pressure was coming from the banks. That narrative had now firmly taken root in the media.


    "Everyone¡¯s in a panic. Even the kids¡¯ parents look as pale as ghosts¡ªthey¡¯re probably already thinking about moving them to another club. I actually feel a little bad about you dismantling all of this..." Miss Heysen said as she reported to Richard.


    Richard clicked his tongue. "Miss Heysen, you should call it ¡¯downsizing¡¯ instead of ¡¯dismantling.¡¯ This is for a greater purpose. If I hadn¡¯t come to this club, the real dismantling might¡¯ve happened for real."


    It wasn¡¯t truly dismantling. The real goal was to downsize in order to stabilize the club. No professional club could completely eliminate its youth system. Instead, it was being reduced to a near-invisible state, making it easier to restructure and regain balance.


    "Ah, is that so?" Miss Heysen nodded, not bothering to respond further. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She handed Richard the folder and added, "The press release might go out soon, you¡¯d better prepare."


    Just as they had planned, press releases were sent to every major outlet by Richard soon.


    [...To all the City fans out there¡ªtrust me. I know this won¡¯t be easy, but sometimes the hardest decisions are the ones that are necessary. I need you to believe in the vision. Together, we¡¯ll build something far stronger and more resilient than what we have now. Right now, the bigger picture requires tough choices....]


    In other words, Richard confirmed that the current state of City was on the brink.


    The moment other clubs got wind of this, faxes began pouring into the City offices.


    "Richard, we¡¯ve received offers. Blackburn is offering ¡ê500,000 for Ronaldo, ¡ê250,000 for Roberto Carlos, ¡ê250,000 for Cafu, and there¡¯s also a bid for Solskj?r..."


    PFFT!


    Richard sprayed orange juice across the table, utterly dumbfounded.


    One million?! For Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu?! What is this¡ªa clearance sale at Poundland?!


    He grabbed the fax, squinting like it might change the numbers.


    "Are you kidding me? What¡¯s next¡ªbuy one Brazilian, get one free?!"


    Miss Heysen wisely slid the juice out of reach.


    "Hahaha!" Richard laughed aloud, mocking Jack Walker¡ªthe current owner of Blackburn, who was desperate to defend his Premier League title next season.


    "Ignore all faxes regarding Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, Cafu, Gallas, Ferdinand, and Solskj?r. As for the others¡ªwe¡¯ll accept, as long as the price is right. By the way, Miss Heysen, what¡¯s the situation with John and Paul?"


    John Terry and Paul Robinson were the only players from City A that Richard intended to keep.


    "I¡¯ve already briefed their parents and reassured them that we plan to keep both boys. We¡¯ll raise their status to first-team players the moment they turn sixteen. Don¡¯t worry¡ªthey¡¯ve accepted the plan. For now, they¡¯ll start training with the first team," Miss Heysen reported.


    Richard nodded in approval.


    The next few days were nothing short of hell for Richard.


    Faxes and inquiries flooded in one after another¡ªnonstop, relentless, all asking the same thing: the availability of Manchester City players. But most of them were focused on Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, Cafu, Gallas, Ferdinand, and Solskj?r. The offers for them kept pouring in.


    Each new page from the fax machine was like a vulture circling the wounded club¡ªeveryone wanted a piece of City¡¯s remains.


    Miss Heysen was equally swamped, working tirelessly to negotiate with the parents of boys from City A and City B, many of whom were eager to pull their sons out of the club.


    Thanks to Richard¡¯s radical and disruptive "bankruptcy" strategy, even the Manpower Services Commission¡ªresponsible for managing the Youth Training Scheme (YTS)¡ªwas left speechless, uncertain how to respond to the unprecedented situation at Manchester City.


    Had he not taken such a bold approach, the club would have been forced to enter lengthy negotiations, pay compensation, and actively help each youth player under a YTS contract find a new club¡ªsomething that, given City¡¯s current short-staffed situation, would have been nearly impossible unless they were willing to abandon their priorities for the summer transfer window.


    But now, with panic spreading and every parent simply wanting the best for their child, they were making the decision for him¡ªscrambling to leave City in a hurry, racing to secure trial spots at other clubs before the new season began.


    The sudden "exodus" of seeds players didn¡¯t go unnoticed by fans. Yet, instead of directing their frustration at Richard, it was the banks that ended up shouldering most of the public¡¯s anger¡ªshielding him in the process.


    Across Manchester, the voices of City fans echoed with frustration and disillusionment. Pubs and fan gatherings buzzed with the same angry sentiments:


    "Those greedy corporate bastards only care about money, not football!"


    "This is what happens when the game is ruled by capital!"


    "At least the manager fought to downsize it, rather than shut it down completely."


    "Downsize? It¡¯s practically gone!"


    "Still, if even a little structure remains, they can rebuild it later."


    "Yeah, right. Like this club will ever bring it back."


    "Why not? If we get promoted to the Premier League, we¡¯ll have the funds to restore it. Did you even watch Richard¡¯s interviews? He said to trust him! He wants to win!"


    There were some flaws in their reasoning, but the fans weren¡¯t entirely wrong. A professional club did need a youth academy.


    If the club could secure back-to-back promotions¡ªfirst to the First Division, then to the Premier League¡ªbroadcasting revenue and squad value would rise significantly.


    At that point, they could afford to reinstate the academy. Richard had made the decision to downsize because he didn¡¯t want to waste his time fixing the old system but instead aimed to rebuild it with his new approach.


    Early online forums like Usenet, IRC, AOL Chat Rooms, and Message Boards were buzzing with heated discussions.


    IRC chat:


    [cityfan95] Does City even have a supporters¡¯ union? If I donate, can we stop this madness?[manchesterfan] It¡¯s hopeless. I heard the youth academy was bleeding money left and right.[bluearmy] At least they fought to downsize it, rather than shut it down completely.


    [cityfan95] Downsize? It¡¯s practically gone!


    [bluearmy] Still, if even a little structure remains, they can rebuild it later.


    [cityfan95] Yeah, right. Like this club will ever bring it back.


    Heck, Richard even got spammed by a City fan on his Usenet.


    [


    Subject: Manchester City - Relegation Woes


    From: user1@cityfan.com


    Newsgroup: rec.sport.soccer.england.manchestercity


    Date: May 1995


    Hey City fans,


    It¡¯s been a tough, but I still believe we can pull through. What do you think about the team¡¯s future? Should we focus on rebuilding with youth? I¡¯ve heard rumors about potential signings¡ªany thoughts on who we should target in the transfer window?


    Keep the faith,


    CityFan1995


    ]


    Just as Richard was about to respond to the email, Miss Heysen walked into his office¡ªthis time accompanied by an unexpected guest: Karren Brady, the future vice-chairman of West Ham United.


    The moment she opened her mouth, Richard was left utterly speechless.


    "Help me acquire this club," she said sharply, "and let me run it."


    "What the bloody heck?" Richard nearly blurted out.

 Chapter 150: Brimer Scandal

    Chapter 150: Brimer Scandal"What did you just say?" Richard asked the woman in front of him, dumbfounded.


    Karren didn¡¯t answer. Instead, she stood up, turned on the TV, and switched to EuroSport, which was currently broadcasting the hottest breaking news ¡ª but Richard completely missed it.


    "For me, it is clear there was corruption," said Mr. de Montgolfier, whose name was displayed on the current television broadcast. "Three Valenciennes players were approached by people from Olympique Marseille and paid francs to play badly. The question is: At what level was the Marseille initiative taken¡ªby Mr. Tapie himself, or someone below him?"


    Richard was taken aback.


    "And this..." Karren said as she laid out all the newspapers she had clearly prepared before coming here.


    [...A Soccer Scandal Engulfs All France...]


    [...Marseille president Bernard Tapie and general manager Jean-Pierre Bern¨¨s reached out to Valenciennes players Jorge Burruchaga, Jacques Glassmann, and Christophe Robert through Marseille player Jean-Jacques Eydelie, asking them to deliberately underperform...]


    The headline in the newspaper was nothing short of magnificent.


    "The situation is already this dire?" Richard said in surprise as he read the stack of newspapers on his table.


    At the center of the controversy was the local soccer club, Olympique Marseille, which was accused of paying a huge sum of money to players from Valenciennes to throw a French First Division match, so that Marseille could stay fresher for their 1993 UEFA Champions League final match against A.C. Milan six days later.


    The result?


    Marseille defeated Valenciennes 1-0, and just six days later went on to become the first French club ever to capture the European Cup, beating AC Milan of Italy¡ªalso by a 1-0 score.


    It seems like there¡¯s nothing new here¡ªjust the usual match-fixing scandal. However, something much bigger and deeper was lurking beneath the surface of French football.


    Le Classique is the rivalry between France¡¯s two biggest football clubs: Paris Saint-Germain (PSG) and Olympique de Marseille (OM).


    They are the only French teams to have won major European trophies, which makes their fixture the biggest rivalry in France.


    The rivalry truly began in 1986 when PSG won their first championship and Olympique Marseille was purchased by Bernard Tapie.


    The newly formed Parisians were still assembling a competitive team, while OM was a Ligue 1 powerhouse. By the end of the decade, PSG was battling for the 1988¨C89 title against Tapie¡¯s Marseille.


    In the 1990/1992, tensions between the two sides reached new heights with French TV channel Canal+ acquired PSG with the goal of breaking Marseille¡¯s dominance. Supposedly, this was seen as a positive outcome, as amplifying the animosity between the two clubs could help promote the league and draw more attention.


    The problem was...


    "Mr. Tapie obsesses the French," Karren said, reading from a media critique in Lib¨¦ration.


    "When he bought Marseille and started rebuilding it, the club became a symbol for frustrated southerners¡ªa representation of a struggling southern city overcoming the more prosperous north." She paused, looking at Richard. "He used Marseille¡¯s glory to rally support for his political ambitions in the next year presidential election."


    And from that point on, it wasn¡¯t just about football anymore. France became divided¡ªa nation split between the north (PSG) and the south (OM).


    The political effect was so severe that things became even more heated when France¡¯s Socialist President, Fran?ois Mitterrand, took the unusual step of defending Mr. Tapie¡¯s club in his Bastille Day television address to the nation.


    The following day, Mitterrand¡¯s rival and a candidate in the presidential race publicly distanced himself from Tapie. As a result, Mr. Tapie found himself at the center of the storm, caught between the divisions of southern and northern France.


    "OM is indispensable to the social equilibrium of Marseilles because it is the one thing that brings together Arabs, blacks and middle-class white kids," Continued Karren. "Then PSG president Francis Borelli even stepped forward personally, accusing Tapie and his Marseille side of match-fixing during their heated rivalry..."


    This meant the balance was broken¡ªin a very bad way.


    "What about the government, though? Don¡¯t they care?" Miss Heysen, who had been listening, couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    "The French establishment in Paris doesn¡¯t care about that. This is a battle between the capital and the Mediterranean¡ªbetween the traditional bourgeoisie and an outsider like Tapie. The southerners wanted to defend him for bringing glory to a struggling OM, but the northerners had other plans. Instead of attacking him directly, they went after his business."


    Karren leaned in and continued, "If I¡¯m right, there¡¯s a very good chance Tapie will be forced to make a choice¡ªbut it all depends on how he plays his cards and navigates what¡¯s coming."


    "What kind of choice are we talking about here?"


    His business empire¡ªBernard Tapie Finance, La Vie Claire, Testut, and Adidas¡ªhad been floundering for the past few years, thanks to the success of Olympique de Marseille and the support of the Socialist Government. However, with the rise of a conservative government hostile to him, they have recently begun launching their attacks. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His main creditor, a state-owned bank, Societe de Banque Occidentale, was replaced last spring, which forced him to be unable to request a delay in payment deadlines. This means mounting campaign debts are now looming over him.


    "Either his business, or walk away from politics," Karren answered flatly.


    "It seems you¡¯ve already done your homework," Richard¡¯s mouth twitched as he went through every possible scenario, finally realizing the scheme this woman had cooked up.


    ¡¯You clever bitch,¡¯ Richard cursed, but he also admired how her brain worked. As expected from someone who could go toe-to-toe with Adam Levy.


    From his perspective, he basically understood Karren¡¯s thought process, especially if you looked at everything from Tapie¡¯s point of view, as someone who wanted to become a politician.


    First, if I were in Mr. Tapie¡¯s position¡ªhaving made so many sacrifices to enter politics¡ªI definitely wouldn¡¯t give up my political influence just to protect my business. After all, I built my business empire to enter politics, right?


    Second, life after entering politics¡ªthen what? Life in politics is tough. After I win, what comes next? I¡¯ll need support, votes, and strong backing. Where will my greatest support come from?


    Olympique de Marseille and Southern France.


    Since my support and votes come from the fans of this club, naturally, I would be very reluctant to give up on it. People here see me as a hero for bringing success. Now, especially if I want my political power to last, it¡¯s crucial for me to maintain my influence here and keep my support strong.


    So, the best course of action is?


    To find a puppet, a puppet who will sit in the club and control their day-to-day operations while he¡¯s battling his political responsibilities.


    ¡¯This woman is ruthless,¡¯ Richard thought to himself. ¡¯But also a genius.¡¯


    She was essentially allowing herself to become a puppet¡ªjust to get a foothold in Olympique de Marseille¡ªwilling to be controlled by both Tapie and him if it meant running the club.


    Karren simply nodded, a serious expression on her face.


    "What¡¯s the worst that could happen if he¡¯s found guilty?" he asked.


    "The club could be immediately relegated to Division Two," Karren replied matter-of-factly.


    Which means all his investment could be wasted, and the club¡¯s revenue might plummet since the income from France¡¯s second division doesn¡¯t compare to that of the top flight. Add to that the hostility¡ªthere¡¯s a chance they might target him personally, which could lead to OM and himself going bankrupt instantly and losing all his power to lobby later.


    Richard leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing the others in the room. "So, you¡¯re saying I should put my money into this club and let you run it?"


    Karren nodded again.


    "But why? Why shouldn¡¯t I just buy the club and run it myself?"


    Karren shook her head. "It¡¯s not worth it. With the current corruption scandal blowing up over there, every club will be investigated by the DNCG (Direction Nationale du Contr?le de Gestion). If they find your involvement directly, it could lead to investigations or even restrictions being imposed." She paused before continuing, "Especially if City ever competes in the UEFA Champions League in the future."


    "..."


    Richard rubbed his chin, his expression thoughtful. An idea started to take shape in his mind, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure about it yet.


    "Miss Heysen, please help me. I need you to gather all the details ¡ª a complete list of all active players in both France¡¯s Division One and Division Two."


    Hearing this, Miss Heysen nodded, while Karren frowned, unsure of what he was planning.


    Once that was settled, Richard also called Adam Lewis, an expert in matters like this.


    Two hours later, a total of 21 pages were laid out on Richard¡¯s table, and Adam Lewis knocked on the door before entering.


    He was taken aback upon seeing a woman in Richard¡¯s office.


    Without any formalities, Richard explained his plan to Lewis.


    "You must¡¯ve gone mad!"


    Was his response to Richard¡¯s nonsensical idea.


    "..."


    "You do realize," Lewis continued, "from FIFA to UEFA, and even down to their domestic and regional bodies¡ªthey strictly prohibit dual ownership of football clubs that compete in the same European competitions, right?"


    Richard coughed a little before whispering devilishly, "That¡¯s why I pay you so well, isn¡¯t it? To come up with solutions in situations like this...?"


    "I¡ª"


    In the end, Lewis was at a loss for words. He wasn¡¯t wrong, after all.


    "What exactly do you have in mind? Because I must warn you¡ªthis could lead to sanctions, forced divestment, or even criminal charges for fraud or regulatory evasion."


    Richard nodded and explained what he had in mind.

 Chapter 151: Set Up Maddox Football Group

    Chapter 151: Set Up Maddox Football GroupFirst of all, a senior member of UEFA¡¯s Legal & Disciplinary Committee, Lennart Johansson, is on his side, which means, from UEFA alone, he already has his insider.


    (see Chapters 67¨C68: European Court of Justice case).


    Now, the only real concern they face is FIFA. However, Richard believes the organization will likely turn a blind eye, since they already have so much on their plate.


    Lack of transparency, internal political maneuvering, and accusations of favoritism, corruption, and backroom dealings during Jo?o Havelange¡¯s presidency. Richard believes what Havelange needs now is support, not another enemy.


    All of Richard¡¯s plans working together with Pel¨¦ had already started to bear fruit. His ¡ê700,000 was not in vain.


    Now, if he wants to acquire or invest in another club, the best-case scenario would be to follow the Glazers¡¯ later approach to buying Manchester United by using a holding company called Red Football Ltd., which is largely financed through debt.


    This would allow him to take over the club while shielding his personal liability, leveraging the club¡¯s assets for loans, and consolidating ownership legally with maximum control.


    "You forgot one thing," Lewis said suddenly. "While you already know about UEFA and FIFA, you overlooked the leagues. The FA and FFF won¡¯t let you openly control both clubs."


    "But City didn¡¯t disrupt international competitions, and I also had no significant political or financial ties to FIFA or any football federation."


    At the end of the day, everything still comes down to conflicts of interest regarding multi-club ownership.


    "Which means, for next season, I don¡¯t need to worry about this, right? City will still be in the First Division. At worst, they¡¯ll just force me to sell it. This turmoil in France is actually the best situation, as most owners are uncomfortable with the growing scrutiny on club ownership and governance. This uncertainty will drive their prices down to the lowest."


    "Still, it¡¯s obvious. Everyone knows you¡¯re the chairman of Manchester City. If you meddle with another club¡ª"


    Richard spread his hands wide, gesturing for Lewis to stop.


    "Instead of trying to take full control, I would acquire only a minority stake. Mathematically, as long as it¡¯s just 1% to 29.9%, it should be safe, right? As long as I don¡¯t pass the threshold, then everything should be fine."


    Not to take full control or turn it into the best club in the world. After all, he already owned a club¡ªso why bother going all in on what many would call a farmer¡¯s league in the future?


    "This is why I need your help," Richard said to Lewis seriously.


    "To set up offshore companies?" Lewis had already guessed what Richard had in mind.


    To set up an offshore company.


    This strategy was used by Roman Abramovich to acquire Chelsea, initially to minimize tax liabilities. Although Abramovich eventually became the public face of Chelsea, the original transaction was layered with legal intermediaries.


    For his case, to avoid future problems related to club ownership, the best approach was a quiet entry, with no public visibility. That¡¯s why the most effective solution was to set up an offshore company¡ªto avoid political blowback. What¡¯s most important is to create layer after layer to obscure his presence.


    But Richard shook his head.


    "No, the plan is to create a holding company solely for football. This holding company will be the public face of the club I acquire, aside from City."


    The football-specific holding company acts as a legitimate, standalone entity, so any public or regulatory scrutiny will stop at this layer rather than reaching Richard directly.


    Adam Lewis frowned at the idea. It made sense¡ªperhaps too much sense¡ªand that was exactly what unsettled him. He picked up the remaining documents, skimming through the details of OM¡¯s ongoing case, before finally looking up.


    "Why not just invest in a different club? Why France? Why go after one already caught up in a match-fixing scandal?" he asked, his brow knit with concern.


    Richard already had the answer.


    "The real challenge at Manchester City is attracting top players. We can¡¯t compete with clubs like Arsenal, Liverpool, or Manchester United. Our stadium and facilities need a lot of work. Take Paul Lake, for example¡ªhe just got injured, and it shows how poorly City handles its players. Those clubs are already competing at the highest level. Marseille is already a big club. On top of that..."


    ¡¯If I bought Marseille, I could park players there. Then, when City reaches the Premier League, we could buy them at the lowest price. This way, I¡¯d also have a steady pipeline of talent from France to supply City in the future¡ª¡¯


    Wait a minute!


    Richard suddenly stopped mid-thought as a realization hit him.


    He quickly grabbed a sheet of paper listing the current teams in France¡¯s Division 1 along with their starting lineups. Skimming through almost all of them, he finally¡ª


    "Adam, thank you so much for reminding me," Richard said suddenly, grateful.


    His question had revealed a loophole in his own thinking that he hadn¡¯t considered before.


    That¡¯s right. Why risk investing in a club caught up in a match-fixing scandal, when he could easily acquire a club that¡¯s already brimming with talent? Moreover, what makes him think that Tapie doesn¡¯t have his own puppet he can place at Marseille?


    Richard then turned to Karren. "You told me to acquire a club so you could run it alone, right?"


    She nodded.


    Richard nodded back. "But it¡¯s not free," he said.


    Richard then tossed a document onto the table in front of her.


    It detailed the businesses currently owned by Bernard Tapie: Bernard Tapie Finance, a cosmetics company called La Vie Claire, a scale manufacturer named Testut, and finally¡ªthe second thing he was truly eyeing¡ªAdidas, the sports shoe company.


    "When the time comes, when Tapie needs to sell his business, if you manage to secure Adidas for me, then congratulations."


    Richard tapped the name of a football club, written in bold letters, in front of her.


    It¡¯s not Olympique de Marseille but FC Girondins de Bordeaux.


    Why France, and why Bordeaux instead of Marseille?


    First, France has a deep tradition of producing top-tier football talent, thanks in large part to its diverse, multicultural population, including a strong African influence. Many African players have roots in France or start their careers in French leagues, and French clubs have long been active in scouting across the African continent.


    Second, why Bordeaux? The reason is simple. In their current starting lineup, they have three key players: Zinedine Zidane, Christophe Dugarry, and Bixente Lizarazu. Beyond that, Bordeaux could be used for talent development and as a pipeline to funnel French players to Manchester City.


    Karren¡¯s eyes lit up. She didn¡¯t care which club it was, as long as she was at the top. She nodded seriously. "You promised?"


    "Yes, and Maddox Capital will cover all your expenses while you¡¯re in France. You have less than a year to persuade Tapie before the presidential election."


    "Understood." She nodded, then quickly gathered her things, hurriedly bidding farewell, likely already preparing to get to work.


    Once she was gone, only Richard and Adam Lewis remained.


    "You trust her that much?" Lewis asked, curious.


    Letting her run a club¡ªwho was she really?


    Richard smiled faintly. He didn¡¯t¡ªand never would¡ªtrust her.


    What he trusted was her ambition. Her obsession with using him as a stepping stone, just like she once used Birmingham City before jumping to West Ham in the future.


    Richard shook his head but didn¡¯t voice that thought. "Alright, Adam. I need your help now."


    It was time to begin the legal structuring for the holding company.


    "You¡¯ll still need offshore companies if you want to stay hidden¡ªespecially if you¡¯re targeting European clubs," Lewis warned still.


    These business-friendly jurisdictions, known for their corporate privacy, offer strong legal protections, tax advantages, and, most importantly, confidentiality for the beneficial owners.


    That¡¯s why, if he wants to remain completely hidden in the long run, he needs to use these shell companies to create a Special Purpose Vehicle (SPV) dedicated solely to acquiring sports assets, like a stake in other clubs.


    SPVs are commonly used to isolate financial risk and keep operations discrete. If anything goes wrong, the liability doesn¡¯t trace back to Richard or his main businesses. This SPV would be the legal entity negotiating with the other¡¯s Camp.


    ¡¯SPV...¡¯ Richard rubbed his chin in thought.


    The future City Football Group and Qatar Sports Investments are examples of SPV-style holding companies before they finally formed a legal holding company to control not just one club, but many, including those in the U.S., Australia, Spain, and beyond. They are designed to isolate financial risk, manage global football assets, and navigate complex ownership rules across FIFA/UEFA.


    "How do your clients usually do this?"


    After all, legal matters weren¡¯t his forte. He knew how many businessmen handled this kind of thing, mainly for tax evasion, but since this was his first time and he would be the one doing it, he couldn¡¯t help but worry.


    Lewis nodded, understanding how Richard felt.


    Everyone was like this. At first, they were afraid, but because they needed it, they had no choice but to take the risk. Then, after the first time, the second, and the third, it became an obsession¡ªfirst to hide their identity, then for tax evasion, and eventually, it only grew deeper from there.


    "Your identity would be hidden behind nominee directors, trusts, or corporate entities as You wouldn¡¯t be listed as a director or shareholder; instead, you would need to use legal proxies or local nominee services." Lewis explained. "That¡¯s why most offshore companies are set up in neutral jurisdictions."


    Richard frowned, clearly weighing the implications. Then he shook his head


    "It¡¯s still not enough," he said. "A holding company, then a shell company, and direct investment? That¡¯s not going to work. The people here are sharp¡ªlike sharks. They¡¯ll sniff me out. Help me think of another layer to add."


    Lewis thought the plan was already obscure enough, but he didn¡¯t say anything. He then began skimming through the FC Girondins de Bordeaux information.


    "Then you can cover it up," He replied Richard, pointing to the current owner of Bordeaux, Groupe M6.


    Football clubs were becoming increasingly expensive to run, with rising player wages, stadium maintenance costs, and the financial demands of competing in European competitions. M6 needed to balance the costs of managing Bordeaux with the profitability of its commercial television channel.


    With the Brimmer scandal, every club will face increased scrutiny over its governance, and all owners of French clubs can see that the FFF will impose tighter regulations and reforms on French football.


    Lewis continued, "This is the breakthrough. The company currently needs funds to sustain its second online broadcasting station. We¡¯ll use an M&A advisor as an intermediary to approach them. They will represent the ¡¯investor group¡¯ without revealing you. Your SPV will be the direct buyer of Bordeaux shares."


    "..."


    "We¡¯ll frame the offer as a ¡¯strategic investment to revive and modernize the club,¡¯ tying into M6¡¯s need for capital. To make the transition look cooperative, don¡¯t forget to include debt assumption or stadium investment as part of the deal structure¡ªless upfront cash for M6, but long-term benefits."


    "And the companies?" Richard asked. "How do I keep my name off them if I want to stay hidden? How do I inject money into them?"


    "You fund the SPV through layered investments¡ªother shell companies, trust funds, or private backers¡ªto add complexity and separation," Lewis replied calmly.


    "That¡¯s it?"


    Lewis sighed and decided to elaborate.


    "It all stays behind the scenes. It¡¯ll look like a domestic transaction, so it won¡¯t raise any political red flags. Plus, involving a respected advisory firm adds legitimacy. It makes the whole thing appear as a professionally managed restructuring¡ªnot personal interference." Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Think of it like this: Richard ¡ú Holding Company ¡ú Nominee Director ¡ú Shell Company ¡ú Another Nominee Director (Karren) ¡ú Advisory Firm ¡ú Bordeaux (M6)


    "Basically, every transaction needs to be layered with legal intermediaries, so your name wouldn¡¯t appear on any public shareholder registry or financial filings associated with the club or even the SPV before you decide to make it public."


    Richard sat back, his mind spinning with all the details. He rubbed his temples, trying to digest everything. After a few moments, he raised his head and turned to Lewis.


    "Since you know so much, this isn¡¯t your first time, right? How about another project?"


    Lewis smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. To be honest, he¡¯d been circling around the details, keeping the conversation vague to test Richard. Now, it seemed like the moment had arrived to present himself as the one to handle everything.


    He coughed lightly. "But you know the fee¡ª"


    Richard waved his hand dismissively. "I know, I know. Let¡¯s just get it done."


    That¡¯s why he liked working with Richard Maddox.


    "Alright, I¡¯ll handle it." He rose. "I¡¯ll start setting up the initial contacts and get the offshore structures in place."


    With this, the foundation for the Maddox Football Group was set in place.

 Chapter 152: Manchester City – Post-Season Review

    Chapter 152: Manchester City ¨C Post-Season ReviewThe summer break had officially begun, and most of the players were scattered across different parts of the world¡ªsome were on vacation with their families, some were training on their own, and others were simply enjoying the rare downtime after a long, grueling season.


    For them, the work was on pause.


    For Richard Maddox? It had only just begun.


    A week had passed since the players began their vacation. The news of City dismantling their youth team had also started to fade, as the media and clubs shifted their focus to the Copa Am¨¦rica and the upcoming transfer for the next season.


    Richard arrived at Maine Road.


    Usually, there would be a few people passing by¡ªboys in sky-blue jackets coming and going with their parents, handling paperwork for their transfers to other clubs. But now, it was completely empty.


    The air was still. The corridor was eerily quiet, the only sound was the steady echo of his footsteps tapping against the floor.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


    Richard knocked firmly on Miss Heysen¡¯s door before stepping inside.


    "Miss Heysen, what¡¯s the status over there?" he asked, his eyes briefly scanning the paperwork spread out across her desk.


    Seven days was more than enough time for concerned fathers and mothers to remove their children from the sinking Manchester City.


    "It¡¯s all done," Miss Heysen confirmed. "A total of 44 kids have been moved out, except for John Terry and Paul Robinson. For next season, we¡¯ve already withdrawn from the Central League and Regional Youth Leagues."


    The Central League was mainly for City reserve teams, while the Regional Youth Leagues focused on City B teams competing.


    Thanks to their bankruptcy issues, the FA isn¡¯t putting up any resistance, but they still want City to have a youth squad.


    As a result, the current setup only has City A as their youth squad, with just John Terry and Paul Robinson remaining.


    "Currently, City A is still registered in the FA Youth Cup and FA Premier Youth League," Miss Heysen explained to Richard, noticing the hint of caution in her tone.


    With only two players in the squad, how could City A compete next season?


    Richard understood Miss Heysen¡¯s hidden intention. He then began issuing a series of instructions.


    "Miss Heysen, help me draft a new plan for the academy. For next season, we won¡¯t use the names City A and City B anymore¡ªwe¡¯ll call them the ¡¯Under-19¡¯ and ¡¯Under-17¡¯ teams."


    After a brief pause, he continued, "¡¯Under-17¡¯ will compete in the FA Youth Cup and the FA Premier Youth League. We¡¯ll register the squad under the name City U17. As for the U19 team, let¡¯s place it in inactive status for now since our focus will be on the U17. Once the squad is ready, we¡¯ll register it again in the Regional Youth Leagues."


    After finally receiving the verdict, Miss Heysen sighed in relief. She didn¡¯t question Richard¡¯s decision and simply took note of all his instructions, which earned her a thumbs-up of approval from him.


    Unlike the previous City General Manager, John, who often asked too many questions and slowed things down, Miss Heysen got straight to the point and took action. That earned her Richard¡¯s favor.


    "By the way, Miss Heysen, I¡¯m not quite clear on the YTS contract. With so many parents withdrawing their children, do we need to offer compensation? If so, how much compensation do we need to pay?"


    "Of course, we still need to offer them compensation, although we managed to get a reduction in the compensation amount approved by the commission. Since the parents are eager for their kids to join trials at other clubs as soon as possible, they quickly accepted the compensation we offered. In total, we¡¯ll be paying around ¡ê6,000."


    Richard was satisfied with how she handled things. After mulling it over for a moment, he sat quietly in front of Miss Heysen. He clasped his hands together and, after a brief pause, spoke up.


    "Miss Heysen, what do you think about the current City? Not the football side, how do you see it?"


    "What do you mean by that?"


    "Do you think the current structure is a bit old-fashioned? Still using a general manager position? Why not change it up a bit, make it more corporate¡ªlike having a CEO, CFO, and roles like that? What do you think?"


    Miss Heysen was quiet for a moment, clearly weighing his words. "But you¡¯re the owner. You can decide whatever you want."


    Richard nodded thoughtfully. "Ah, I see. Well, if that¡¯s the case, Miss Heysen, I believe the club no longer needs a club secretary."


    "..."


    The silence lingered, and it suddenly became awkward, with Miss Heysen looking at him blankly.


    Richard, sensing the tension, quickly clarified, "How about becoming the City Chief Executive Officer instead? It¡¯s basically the same, just a different title, and it comes with better perks. Are you willing to take on that role?"


    And just like that, on the second floor of the current Main Road building, once home to the general manager¡¯s office and now the CEO¡¯s office, everyone in the vicinity could hear a mix of crying followed by a burst of anger.


    "I thought you were going to fire me!" came the dramatic voice, echoing through the halls. "Why are you telling me this so late? Do you even know how much I love this job?!"


    "I-I didn¡¯t mean that, actually!"


    After what felt like an eternity, Richard could only helplessly pat Miss Heysen¡¯ shoulder as she sobbed uncontrollably, as if there was no tomorrow.


    After sobbing, she raised her head. "Then what about you?"


    "...?"


    Richard pointed to himself, as if asking, ¡¯Me?¡¯ to which Miss Heysen nodded.


    Richard thought for a moment before mumbling, "Sporting director?"


    "..."


    What kind of bullshit is he spouting now? What even is a sporting director supposed to be?


    The next day, after ensuring Miss Heysen¡¯s emotional stability, Richard knocked on her door again.


    Miss Heysen, now dressed in a sharp suit, stood confidently, convinced her new role as City¡¯s CEO definitely called for such attire.


    To be honest, Richard still found her hilariously stuck on his idea of running City like a corporation, which left him helpless. But he let her be.


    "Hello, Miss Heysen," He greeted with a smile of truce as he stepped inside. "Please brief me on the report for the previous season."


    Miss Heysen nodded like a pro before dramatically spreading all the folder lists. First is the total revenue of the club. Post-season analysis provides insights into renewal rates and customer loyalty.


    A large portion of City¡¯s revenue comes from ticket sales, with average prices during the 1994/1995 season ranging from ¡ê3 for the cheapest tickets to ¡ê6 for the most expensive.


    Another source of income comes from the very minimal broadcasting fees (¡ê100,000 per year), as well as food and beverage sales, and merchandise.


    "Overall, the total revenue for the previous season is ¡ê3,716,000, including the bonus from the sponsorship deal with Mancunian Transport of ¡ê1 million, since we won promotion."


    Richard then reviewed the current City sponsorships:


    1. Kit supplier Jako: ¡ê500,000


    2. Mancunian Transport: ¡ê500,000 for the sponsorship, with an additional ¡ê500,000 if they win. The deal will be doubled to ¡ê2 million for the next season. (Chapter 90: Sponsorship issue)


    "In other words, our total revenue is actually ¡ê2,716,000 alone. Is the three million already net profit?" Richard was surprised by this.


    Almost three million net in the third division, to be honest, isn¡¯t bad.


    The new CEO shook her head. "No, that¡¯s the gross figure. Once we account for expenditures, our actual profit is only ¡ê716,000. On top of that, we¡¯re carrying ¡ê37 million in debt ¡ª with ¡ê700,000 of it due in the next few months as short-term liabilities."


    "..."


    Only ¡ê16,000 net profit...


    Richard stared at her, gaping. "So much? So, we might go bankrupt next season?"


    "What are you saying? Have you forgotten about the player sales?!"


    Ah, it was only then that Richard remembered the players City had recently sold: Rivaldo to PSV for ¡ê6 million, along with Campbell and Shaun Goater to Tottenham Hotspur for ¡ê8 million.


    A total of ¡ê14 million.


    Richard looked down and then asked, "Miss Heysen, why were the expenses so high? Where did we go wrong?"


    "Did you forget about the Kippax Stand renovation that was halted under Francis Lee? Before the season even kicked off, you suggested closing the stands to begin construction. And let¡¯s not forget the control room and training room modernization you requested¡ªthose alone have already drained our cash."


    "..."


    "Look, most of our spending is going into administrative costs and those renovations," she went on. "And when you fired half the staff all at once, we had to pay out a mountain of severance. On top of that, nine of our players are earning close to ¡ê100,000¡ªone of them even more when you factor in performance bonuses. And now we have to cover Martin¡¯s fine as well."


    Richard felt a bit embarrassed about all the firing, but he was still shocked that nine of City¡¯s players were getting almost ¡ê100,000!


    "Give me the details."


    The players earning ¡ê100,000 or more were Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, Cafu, and Campbell, but what really shocked him were players like Nick Fenton, Steve Lomas, Richard Jobson, Keith Curle, Jamie Pollock, and others who had barely played. Their salaries were outrageous!


    Richard cursed his former general manager in his mind, furious. Now, he knew exactly what needed to be done ¡ª cut the squad down.


    He quickly circled the names of the players who wouldn¡¯t be part of his plans.


    "First things first," he said, sliding the list across the table. "Put every name here up for sale. Let¡¯s see if we can get any offers." Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Miss Heysen nodded, taking notes.


    "Loan or permanent?" she asked.


    "Permanent," Richard replied. "We need to free up wage space."


    "Curle?"


    "Including him," Richard said firmly.


    Miss Heysen wrote it all down, then looked up. "Anything else?"


    "How long until the Kippax Stand can finally reopen?"


    "Only the final work on the roof section remains to be done. The team from Arup has already informed us that the stand should be ready to open next season."


    Richard let out a sigh. "Finally," he said. "After half a year, the stand is ready."


    "Do you want to take a look at it?"


    Richard shook his head. "No, I can¡¯t. And by the way, Miss Heysen, please help me prepare a statement from the club about the future of the City Academy. We need to clear up the confusion¡ªsome people still think we¡¯re shutting it down, but we¡¯re actually revamping it."


    "Understood."


    "Also, what about the sponsor for the next season? Do we have an offer?"


    Miss Heysen nodded.


    "As per the agreement with Mancunian Transport for the main sponsor, next season they will sponsor us for ¡ê2 million for the entire season. Jako has also revised their offer to ¡ê750,000 to be our kit supplier. However..." Miss Heysen suddenly stopped as she hesitated.


    This made Richard curious, but he did not press her, as he was waiting.


    "Sir Humphreys from Umbro contacted me, saying he wants to be our kit supplier for next season."


    "Humphreys? You mean John Humphreys?"


    Miss Heysen nodded.


    John Humphreys, the managing director of the family-owned sportswear brand Umbro, who joined the City board during the Albert Alexander City era in 1966.


    "How much is his offer?"


    Richard didn¡¯t care about past relationships with anyone from the previous City management. As long as the offer was good, he was ready to say yes.


    "It¡¯s only ¡ê500,000. But Richard, I suggest you seriously consider Mr. Humphreys¡¯ offer."


    Richard raised an eyebrow upon hearing this.


    "Why?"


    "According to Mr. Rouse, our kit manager, there were several issues with Jako last season. When demand spiked, they struggled to keep up, and there were delays in delivery. In some cases, players had to wear older kits because the new ones didn¡¯t arrive on time."


    "..."


    Richard was silent for a moment.


    "Alright, we¡¯ll go with Umbro. Miss Heysen, please take care of coordinating the jersey design with them. Now, what about the main sponsor? Is Mancunian Transport our only option?"


    "No. Brother Industries, has already expressed interest in becoming our main sponsor, replacing Mancunian Transport. They¡¯re willing to offer ¡ê2.5 million. Cresta and Carlsberg have also shown interest in renewing their sponsorship for next season."


    What could he say? The other party was offering more¡ªof course, Richard would choose Brother over Mancunian Transport.


    Having sorted all the issues for the upcoming season, Richard drove his Porsche, already preparing for his flight to the Netherlands next week.


    Time to focus on the transfers!

 Chapter 153: Bringing O’Neill’s Player Request

    Chapter 153: Bringing O¡¯Neill¡¯s Player RequestManchester City¡¯s appeal against the FA regarding the Martin O¡¯Neill headbutt incident was accepted by an independent regulatory commission.


    Initially, the FA had decided to suspend O¡¯Neill¡¯s coaching license for an indefinite period and fine City ¡ê750,000.


    In retaliation, City appealed to the independent regulatory commission regarding the FA¡¯s statement of an indefinite suspension. City argued that the decision was unjust and disproportionately harsh, questioning the fairness of such a suspension without clear justification.


    With no other choice, the FA changed their stance and decided to reduce it to a two-year ban!


    City found themselves in a difficult position. In truth, O¡¯Neill was a fitting example for a case like this¡ªbut once again, Richard¡¯s City, under the guidance of Shepherd and Barry, launched another appeal.


    They argued that the headbutt was unintentional, stating: "There seemed to be a slight contact of the nose, to be precise."


    O¡¯Neill, as the accused, was also present at the hearing, where he expressed his remorse: "I regret having shown behavior that goes against my principles. I assure you that, despite the aggressiveness in the way I spoke to Mr. Millot, I never had any intention beyond wrongly expressing my frustration. I would also like to apologise to the referees¡¯ committee and to the FA."


    He also offered to do community service, including meeting with amateur referee associations¡ªa gesture that did help soften the FA¡¯s stance.


    Of course, Richard also had a hand in this. He immediately called Johansson from UEFA, asking for his help and subtly invoking the same threat he had used in the past against FA officials Graham Kelly and Keith Wiseman¡ªthe Francis Lee bribery when he was still chairman of Manchester City.


    "Now we¡¯re even," Johansson said over the call.


    "Indeed..." Richard replied.


    The favor was finally repaid. First, it had been used against FA chief Graham Kelly. Second, to help establish the City Football Group. Third, to keep quiet on the non-EU player restrictions. And now, to soften the blow of O¡¯Neill¡¯s fine.


    "You can come to Maine Road and look at the evidence yourself," Richard continued. "Then do with it what you will¡ªdestroy it, keep it, it¡¯s your call."


    "...Understood. I¡¯ll find time to come," Johansson said.


    CLICK!


    After ending the call, Richard let out a deep sigh of relief. Now, all he could do was wait to see what kind of verdict would be handed down to Martin O¡¯Neill.


    Due to the Copa Am¨¦rica, the major leagues had already concluded, leaving only the playoffs in the First and Second Divisions following the establishment of the Premier League.


    Over the next few days, Richard focused on rebuilding City¡¯s squad, working to fill the gaps left by the departure of several key players¡ªShay Given, for example, who had been the team¡¯s first-choice goalkeeper last season.


    Currently, City¡¯s first team has only two eligible goalkeepers: Tony Coton and Nicky Weaver. However, Coton is already 34, and Richard has chosen not to extend his contract, so it¡¯s expected he¡¯ll leave the club this summer. As for Weaver, he¡¯s still too young¡ªhaving just turned 17.


    Richard reviewed all the data in City¡¯s manual scout database, searching for the best goalkeeper candidates¡ªsomeone affordable yet of quality. Finally, his eyes landed on one name that made him unsure whether to laugh or cry.


    Having been at fault for three first-half goals in the span of just seven minutes, the manager¡¯s decision to withdraw Jens Lehmann reportedly led the 25-year-old goalkeeper to flee the stadium by tram, alone, unable to face his teammates whom he believed he had let down with his performance.


    Perhaps Schalke was still in the process of evaluating his abilities, but Richard¡¯s instant ¡ê450,000 offer changed their mind. For a goalkeeper with unproven ability, especially after what had just happened, it was a shocking move.


    Soon, the transfer of the 25-year-old goalkeeper Lehmann was approved, with the final bid set at ¡ê500,000.


    The second transfer focus was to search for a replacement for Emile Heskey, following O¡¯Neill¡¯s preference for a target man.


    Richard already had his target in mind, which was also on the list of players O¡¯Neill wanted: Henrik Larsson. He immediately set off to fly to the Netherlands for this.


    The current Larsson took time to adjust to working and living in a foreign country, managing to score a modest 6 goals in 27 appearances.


    There are also rumors circulating that he is unsettled and frustrated due to a combination of ever-changing coaches, being played in unfamiliar positions and the club¡¯s player-rotation policy. This policy saw him substituted after fifty or sixty minutes of play, even when performing well. By the end of the season, he had told the new manager, Arie Haan, that he wished to leave the club.


    There was, however, a problem. A legal dispute arose over a clause in his contract, which PSV claimed would allow him to be sold if a fee of ¡ê600,000 was offered.


    ¡ê600,000 for an unproven striker?


    Many teams hesitated, but Richard wasted no time. He slapped the price tag with ¡ê650,000, leading Feyenoord to accept the deal instantly.


    Larsson hesitated about joining a second-tier English club, but Feyenoord¡¯s management and manager Arie Haan didn¡¯t give him much of a choice.


    Richard, sensing the opportunity, leaned in with a sly grin. "Let¡¯s focus on developing with Manchester City first, before worrying about anything else. Think of City as a stepping stone¡ªafter all, no other club would dare pay ¡ê600,000 for you. You¡¯re frozen out by Haan, stuck in the reserves. How long do you want to wait on the sidelines? You¡¯re in your prime, Henrik. This is your moment."


    The devil¡¯s whisper hung in the air. Larsson hesitated, considering Richard¡¯s reasoning.


    After a moment of contemplation, he finally nodded, reluctantly agreeing to Manchester City¡¯s offer.


    Done with the Larsson deal, Richard didn¡¯t immediately return to England. Instead, he flew straight to the southernmost province of Limburg, specifically to De Baandert Stadium, the home of Fortuna Sittard.


    Fortuna Sittard had experienced mixed fortunes throughout its history, as their youth system had produced notable talents such as Kevin Hofland, Mark van Bommel, and Fernando Ricksen.


    Richard¡¯s target that day was the 18-year-old Mark van Bommel.


    He had already faxed Fortuna Sittard, who originally intended to hold on to van Bommel no matter what. However, Richard¡¯s ¡ê300,000 bid made them waver.


    Soon, the transfer was approved, with the final bid landing at ¡ê500,000, making Fortuna Sittard think they had already made a fortune from such a fool.


    Done with Larsson and Van Bommel, Richard finally flew to his last destination in the Netherlands to seek more talent.


    In Monnikenhuize, a northern neighborhood of Arnhem, Richard arrived at Nieuw Monnikenhuize, a multi-use stadium primarily used for football matches, home to SBV Vitesse Arnhem.


    He went to the home of Vitesse to pursue Roy Makaay, hoping to bring him to Manchester City. However, the response he received was clear¡ªhe only met with Makaay¡¯s agent, Wasserman.


    "Sorry, my client does not intend to play in a second-tier league. He is already comfortable with the trust that Vitesse and manager Frans Thijssen have given him."


    Rejected!


    However, such rejection didn¡¯t make Richard sad or deter him. He knew the road to success was filled with obstacles, and he had to keep moving forward, no matter the setbacks.


    With that mindset, Richard¡¯s talent hunt in the Netherlands ended with the signings of Larsson and Van Bommel for a combined fee of ¡ê1,150,000.


    The next step was to search for the players recommended by O¡¯Neill.


    Last season, City¡¯s midfielders were far from impressive.


    Even after bringing in several players on loan, their performances failed to meet expectations. Throughout the first half and middle of the season, City looked disjointed and helpless, repeatedly exposed through the middle of the pitch.


    As a result, O¡¯Neill¡¯s top priority was to seek reinforcements in midfield.


    The first stop was PAOK FC, where the club was currently serving a two-year ban from all European competitions imposed by UEFA¡¯s disciplinary committee due to crowd violence during a UEFA Cup match against Paris Saint-Germain.


    There were various demonstrations and riots against Voulinos throughout the season, including an arson attack on his house following a 1¨C3 loss to AEK.


    With no other choice, Theodoros Zagorakis decided not to renew his contract, which he had been contemplating for some time, and accepted O¡¯Neill¡¯s early call.


    Richard was here only to finalize things and...


    The warm Mediterranean breeze swirled around them, and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore seemed to match the relaxing vibe of the holiday.


    Richard rubbed his temples as he watched his mother, father, brother, and future sister-in-law lounging under the sun on Agia Triada Beach.


    He had brought them all to Greece, thinking it would be a relaxing break¡ªa chance to unwind while he took care of business with PAOK and then returned home. But he never expected they wouldn¡¯t want to leave!


    It didn¡¯t look like they were in any rush to return to their busy lives. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Mom, are you sure you don¡¯t want to come back?"


    His mother, half-smiling, didn¡¯t even look up from her sunbathing spot. She simply waved her hand dismissively.


    "No need to hurry back," she said casually, while his father, wearing dark sunglasses and an open-chested shirt, added, "The city will still be there when we get back."


    Richard turned to Harry, his brother. "What about you? What about the company?"


    "No worries, everything¡¯s under control," Harry replied with a shrug, clearly enjoying the moment. "For now, it¡¯s my time to unwind." He leaned back, soaking up the sun with his fianc¨¦e.


    Richard facepalmed at this. "Fine then," he said. "By the way, help me draft a contract¡ªI need to borrow ten million pounds from your company."


    Harry was taken aback by the sudden request and raised his glasses in surprise.


    "So much?"


    "What do you think?" Richard replied.


    Harry only nodded, lowering his glasses again before saying, "Consider it done."


    With that, Richard flew back to England alone.


    This time, he didn¡¯t head straight to Manchester. Instead, he went to Cheshire, where Crewe Alexandra was based.


    Richard came personally this time because both City and Crewe Alexandra shared a similar bond, having both been involved in sex abuse scandals. Because of this, he became acquainted with John Bowler, the English businessman and chairman of Crewe Alexandra Football Club.


    "Is everything good on your side?" After exchanging warm greetings like old friends, Bowler asked about the situation at City.


    "The investigation for City is done. How about you?"


    Thankfully, Richard had been very open and allowed the authorities to fully investigate everything and everyone involved, without shielding anyone.


    "It¡¯s the same, though there are still some issues that pop up now and then," Bowler sighed.


    If Bowler knew that the person who leaked the news was standing right in front of him, he would probably go crazy.


    After getting through the small talk, Richard quickly got to the point about his intentions to visit Gresty Road.


    ¡ê300,000 for Neil Lennon and ¡ê500,000 for Robbie Savage, both of which set a new club record for Crewe Alexandra, making the negotiations go smoothly with little resistance.


    After dealing with it, Richard took a brief walk around Gresty Road Stadium. To be honest, he had initially hoped to find another player he knew. However, when he saw no familiar faces, he decided to leave Cheshire and head straight back to Maine Road in Manchester.


    The final midfielder on O¡¯Neill¡¯s list was Jackie McNamara, who currently wore the jersey of Dunfermline Athletic, a team from Scotland.


    With a handful of promotions and relegations, every year felt like a roller coaster for Dunfermline Athletic. Most of their key players were sold to other clubs, meaning they were always in need of fresh blood.


    Still, at the end of the day, they remained a Scottish professional club, constantly competing in the top tier of the Scottish Premiership.


    Richard made an initial bid of ¡ê500,000, which was eventually sealed at ¡ê600,000, with a promise of a key player status.


    O¡¯Neill handled everything, even making a phone call to personally convince McNamara to join.

 Chapter 154: Team of High Performance First Members

    Chapter 154: Team of High Performance First Members"Are you sure you don¡¯t want to stay longer? I can host you right now. Think of it as a way to celebrate our cooperation," Richard offered.


    Lennart Johansson, a member of UEFA¡¯s Legal & Disciplinary Committee, had already agreed to meet at Main Road after Richard promised to finally show him the original evidence from the Francis Lee bribery scandal.


    "I¡¯m here with a mask and hood, trying to keep a low profile. What makes you think I¡¯d want to go out to eat with you?" Johansson replied, rejecting the invitation.


    Richard didn¡¯t push the matter further, understanding the delicate nature of the situation.


    "By the way, how¡¯s the Martin case going? Do you know any updates?" Richard asked just before Johansson got into his car.


    "Don¡¯t worry, Graham Kelly has already been warned, and he knows what to do!" Johansson replied quickly, then hurriedly drove off, making sure no one noticed him.


    Richard was satisfied with the answer. He turned back and returned to the office.


    A week had passed since then, and finally, O¡¯Neill¡¯s verdict had come.


    After the two-year ban decision, the FA finally softened their stance and announced that he would be banned from the touchline for two months following a red card during a match against Rotherham United.


    As a result, for the first 13 matches of the season, he would have to manage from the stands, unable to give direct instructions to his players from the sideline. Despite this, his coaching license remained intact, and he could still be actively involved, communicating with his assistants and trying to influence the game from a distance. The ¡ê750,000 fine remained in place, which City promptly paid.


    "This is the best result," Richard said to O¡¯Neill, who was already haggard after waiting so long for the final verdict.


    "I know..." O¡¯Neill said, shaking his head. "I need to get some sleep first."


    "Then go take care of yourself," Richard replied helplessly.


    After notifying O¡¯Neill about the finalized decision from the FA, Richard got into his Porsche and immediately set off for Brick Community Stadium, home of the Wigan Warriors¡ªan English professional rugby league club based in Wigan, Greater Manchester.


    His purpose?


    To recruit one of the godfathers of British sports medicine: Dave Fevre.


    Fate has a strange way of coming full circle.


    Who would¡¯ve guessed that the man who had treated Paul Lake¡¯s cruciate ever since he sustained it during the match against Sunderland (Chapter 97: First Blood) was none other than Dave Fevre himself?


    Or to be precise, it was thanks to Paul Lake¡¯s referral from Wythenshawe Hospital to St Helens. It was only during his last visit to check on him that he found out.


    Other than St Helens, Fevre was currently serving as a physio for Wigan Rugby League¡ªa club often regarded as the Manchester United of their sport.


    "No problem, I¡¯ll sit and wait," Fevre said over the phone from the other side. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "No, I¡¯ve already arrived at the stadium. Let¡¯s meet at the restaurant."


    Then, without realizing it, they bumped into each other before reaching the restaurant, both surprised and chuckling. After a brief laugh, Richard pointed toward the foyer.


    "How are you today?"


    "I¡¯m good, Mr. Maddox."


    To be honest, Fevre was hoping for a pay rise, but when he heard Richard say, "You¡¯d better read the letter," he was taken aback.


    Fevre opened the letter Richard had given him without any explanation. When he saw the contents, he couldn¡¯t believe it. Richard wasn¡¯t kidding¡ªhe was seriously offering him the role, as head physio no less.


    "Head Physio? Manchester City?" His head was practically spinning.


    "No, I can¡¯t. I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Maddox," Fevre adamantly shook his head, rejecting Richard¡¯s offer.


    "Why?"


    Fevre handed the letter back to Richard. "Both my kids have type-one diabetes, and they¡¯re only three years old. This is the most important thing in my life now, gaffer. I need to do everything I can for them."


    If it were a normal physiotherapy job, he could manage it part-time or balance it like his current job at Wigan, but head physio?


    That required full dedication.


    Richard nodded. From his personal perspective, he understood that Dave needed to be around for his family.


    "You see, Dave, City is now partnering with Wythenshawe Hospital. I don¡¯t mind getting you district nurses to help sort it out, and you can adapt your hours to make it work for you."


    "..."


    "All that for free. The club will cover everything. Plus, you¡¯ll receive a salary of ¡ê1,000 a month, with annual contract renewals, and housing provided by the club¡ª"


    "I¡¯m in!"


    He thought, ¡¯I¡¯m going to have to make some quick decisions here.¡¯


    Fevre finally couldn¡¯t resist the temptation of Richard¡¯s offer. At the moment, even working in St. Helens and Wigan, he could barely scrape together ¡ê1,000 a month. Now Richard was offering him a stable salary along with all these perks¡ªso who wouldn¡¯t be interested?


    "Good. Now, what do you need for your physio department?"


    "I need a support team. One physio, a masseur, and a doctor¡ªor even a part-time doctor would be okay."


    "Just like your team in Wigan?"


    Fevre nodded.


    "To be honest with you, the current City medical facilities are still not up to standard. That¡¯s why we¡¯re collaborating with Wythenshawe Hospital. Also, I don¡¯t know much about the medical side, so I¡¯ll give you the freedom to choose your own staff. Is that enough?" Richard said.


    After about 20 minutes of discussing how to set up the concept for City¡¯s physio department, Richard had officially secured the first member of City¡¯s High Performance Team.


    For now, Fevre would lead City¡¯s physio unit in collaboration with Wythenshawe Hospital.


    Two Weeks Later


    During this time, Richard focused on gathering information and maintaining contact with several clubs from England, Spain, and Italy¡ªmost of them small and relatively unknown.


    He devised and followed a rather simplistic method: reviewing player information from youth squads around the world, including photos. For those he considered worthy of attention, he would fax the club and inquire about their availability.


    The first player on Richard¡¯s list was a young centre-back named Marco Materazzi, who played for FC Trapani 1905, an Italian club competing in Serie D, the highest level of semi-professional football in Italy.


    Richard made an offer of ¡ê500,000, which translated to 25 million Italian Lire¡ªa substantial sum for a club in Serie D. The offer was accepted, and now it¡¯s just the personal negotiations left with the player.


    The second fax landed at an Italian club, Como, which had just been relegated from Serie B to Serie C1. Richard inquired about the availability of their current "striker", Gianluca Zambrotta, who had only played one match all season. The offer was also the same¡ª25 million Italian lire¡ªand the deal was soon reached with Como.


    "This guy, you¡¯re right! He¡¯s a perfect fit to play as a wide midfielder!" O¡¯Neill, who was reviewing Zambrotta¡¯s data and match footage, suddenly exclaimed.


    After Richard bought the match footage from an unknown scout, he immediately asked for the tape to be sent and reviewed it with O¡¯Neill.


    "What do you think? You happy with what you¡¯ve seen?"


    O¡¯Neill gave a quick nod. "Yeah, they¡¯re young, loads of room to grow. And the way they play fits this First Division¡ªmore about grit and strength than just fancy footwork."


    "When you meet with them later, promise them playing time," Richard advised. "Even if it¡¯s just as a rotational player, be specific¡ªgive them the exact numbers. Tell them how many minutes they can expect. There¡¯s a reason he chose Como over the two Milan giants nearby."


    Zambrotta¡¯s decision to join a lower-league side, where he was more likely to see regular action and build his reputation, turned out to be a smart move. That bet paid off¡ªhe would later rise to become one of Italy¡¯s greatest attacking full-backs or wing-backs.


    "Do you think they¡¯ll accept our offer?"


    "I¡¯m not sure," Richard said, shaking his head.


    This is why he chose O¡¯Neill to persuade them. After all, O¡¯Neill was the manager. Players often responded better to their direct manager, especially when it came to discussing something as important as their future on the pitch. To convince the Italians, who weren¡¯t motivated by money but by playing time, it would be better for him to take charge.


    "So, we heading to Italy to talk to them now?"


    Richard nodded, his mind already running through the details ahead. He turned to O¡¯Neill, ensuring every aspect was covered.


    "If there are any language barriers," Richard said, "the club will provide a translator for each of them to make sure nothing gets lost in translation. Make sure to make them feel important. We want them to understand how crucial they are to the plan we have here. They need to feel like they¡¯re a big part of our project."


    That settles it.


    The next destination: Italy.


    O¡¯Neill will go to the Province of Trapani and then to Como to negotiate with the players, while Richard will visit Lazio and Juventus to recruit the head of City¡¯s High Performance Team.

 Chapter 155: Italy Once Again

    Chapter 155: Italy Once AgainArs¨¨ne Wenger is perceived by some as the trailblazer who introduced continental European methods to England.


    His emphasis on nutrition and improved training techniques at Arsenal, starting in 1996, is often credited with raising the bar.


    It was a similar story with Pete Edwards at Nottingham Forest. Just think about it¡ªhow could a team that had only just been promoted to the Premier League suddenly trail just behind Blackburn Rovers and Manchester United the following season?


    But Nottingham Forest did it.


    In 1993¨C94, they were newly promoted, and in 1994¨C95, they finished third. No other newly promoted club has achieved such a high finish in the Premier League era.


    So how did Forest manage to pull it off?


    The answer lies with Pete Edwards, Nottingham Forest¡¯s Head of Performance.


    The way they terrorised the Premier League falls into the second category. Edwards was the catalyst behind Forest¡¯s success in the 1994¨C95 season. He was essentially augmenting his knowledge by learning from fellow coaches during his trips to Italy, including time spent with Gian Piero Ventrone at Juventus..


    So, Gian Piero Ventrone is the key answer to all the questions running through Richard¡¯s mind.


    The one who later became known for his ¡¯The Marine/Ventrone Method,¡¯ was a member of Marcello Lippi¡¯s coaching staff at Juventus.


    When City needed to bust a gut in midfield to get through the running necessary to support either Ronaldo, Solskj?r, or Larsson in the next season, he knew Ventrone was the right man to instill the discipline of ¡¯The Marine.¡¯


    Having served in the San Marco battalion of the Italian Navy and undergone gruelling training in the US, his methods became the foundation of a ¡¯revolution¡¯ in football fitness.


    So Richard parted ways with O¡¯Neill, choosing Juventus as his destination.


    Visiting Juventus during the 1990s, when Serie A was the world¡¯s strongest league, was an easy thing, but meeting one of their coaches was definitely not.


    Thankfully, at the end of each season, top clubs like Juventus usually host special events, such as media days, where fans, journalists, and professionals from other clubs can interact with the team and staff.


    Today¡¯s event is focused on coaching seminars and workshops.


    After Juventus secured their first league title in nine years, they were determined to make the most of the moment, celebrating a long-awaited achievement.


    Some coaches participated in coaching seminars, and there he is, Richard, already eyeing the man who is currently in a moment of silence, mourning, in the wake of defender Andrea Fortunato¡¯s death from cancer during the course of the season.


    Juventus wanted to use this moment to dedicate their Scudetto to the 23-year-old, who had been firmly established in the starting line-up before he fell ill.


    After the mourning period, the coaching seminars began, and Richard definitely participated, as it was also an opportunity for him to expand his knowledge.


    The session focused on the importance of meticulously planning the squad¡¯s preparation and carefully managing players¡¯ workloads to minimize injuries. Fitness, flexibility, and strength work were all tailored to complement on-pitch training.


    Richard rubbed his chin as he listened to Ventrone speak.


    ¡¯Hmm... personalized training plans, individual diets, and double sessions¡ªin English football, where many players are still more accustomed to spending afternoons in the pub or playing golf... this will definitely catch the First Division off guard.¡¯


    RING~


    While he was still relishing the seminar, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID¡ªMiss Heysen.


    He answered the call. "Hello, Chief. Did I forget to file my expense report again, or are you just calling to hear my charming voice?"


    "I suppose your voice is marginally better than the workload you¡¯ve thrown at me lately," Miss Heysen replied dryly.


    Richard coughed at her sharp comeback. "Alright, alright¡ªyou win. What is it this time? What¡¯s got you calling me?"


    "We¡¯ve received offers for Keith Gillespie, Jeff Whitley, Tony Vaughan, Nick Fenton, and Keith Curle. But for Curle, the highest offer is only ¡ê250,000. The price you set was ¡ê500,000¡ªno one¡¯s willing to pay that."


    "And the others?"


    Keith Gillespie received an offer from Hull City for ¡ê25,000.


    Jeff Whitley has a bid from Mansfield Town for ¡ê60,000.


    Tony Vaughan has a bid from Swansea City for ¡ê80,000.


    Nick Fenton received an offer from Hull City for ¡ê50,000.


    Richard paused for a moment, deep in thought.


    Curle¡¯s wages were admittedly high, but selling him for half the price they had set didn¡¯t sit right with him. Then there was Keith Gillespie¡ªan offer of just ¡ê25,000. His mouth twitched at the absurdity of the figure.


    He leaned back and replied, "Sell Whitley, Vaughan, and Fenton. But hold off on Curle and Gillespie. We won¡¯t let Curle go unless the offer meets our minimum valuation. As for Gillespie, he still has three years left on his contract after promotion¡ªthere¡¯s still time to develop him."


    "Understood."


    "By the way, Miss Heysen..." Richard cleared his throat before asking carefully, "How¡¯s the recruitment going?"


    While Richard had gone to meet with Ventrone and O¡¯Neill regarding Materazzi and Zambrotta, Miss Heysen had been assigned by Richard, as the new CEO, to oversee City¡¯s new U19 team.


    After being briefed by Miss Heysen, here are the 11 players who have currently agreed to terms with Manchester City:


    Chris Kirkland ¨C stolen by Miss Heysen from Coventry City (Age in 1995: 14)


    Jonathan Woodgate ¨C from Middlesbrough (Age: 15)


    Ledley King ¨C from Senrab (Age: 15)


    Wes Brown ¨C from Fletcher Moss Rangers (Age: 16)


    Wayne Bridge ¨C from Oliver¡¯s Battery (Age: 15)


    Scott Parker ¨C from Charlton Athletic (Age: 15)


    Michael Carrick ¨C from Wallsend Boys Club (Age: 14)


    Owen Hargreaves ¨C from Calgary Foothills (Age: 14)


    Gareth Barry ¨C from Brighton & Hove Albion (Age: 14)


    Kieron Dyer ¨C once again from Ipswich Town (Age: 16)


    All of them have essentially agreed to pre-scholarship terms with City, as part of Richard¡¯s long-term first-team development project that he previously briefed to Miss Heysen.


    Until they become eligible for YTS contracts at 16, they¡¯ll be registered as schoolboy players¡ªwith the exception of Kieron Dyer and Wes Brown, who are old enough to begin youth terms immediately.


    "Miss Heysen, what about Steven Gerrard? Have we received a response from him yet?"


    "No," Miss Heysen replied, her tone growing angry. "We¡¯ve reached out, but there¡¯s been no word from him yet!"


    "..."


    Richard sighed at this. After all, the player they were trying to poach was from Liverpool. But Richard wasn¡¯t ready to give up.


    "Then, Miss Heysen, please stay in touch with him. As long as Liverpool keeps delaying his contract, we still have a chance. Also, let¡¯s focus on forwards from now on."


    "Yes, understood," Miss Heysen replied. "And by the way, Richard, someone is looking for you."


    Richard was taken aback by this. "Who?"


    Then Richard heard their conversation from the phone.


    "Excuse me, Miss, what was your name again?" Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Marina," another woman¡¯s voice was heard before she continued, "Marina Granovskaia."


    Only then did Richard remember why the voice sounded so familiar. His efforts to show her how he had negotiated with Netscape had finally paid off. After finishing one final paper at Moscow State University, she had finally arrived! (Chapter 117-119)


    "Thank you for letting me know, Miss Heysen. My matters are already sorted. Please tell her I¡¯ll meet her as soon as possible."


    CLICK!


    After ending the call, Richard let out a deep breath. Finally, with Miss Granovskaia¡¯s help, he wouldn¡¯t have to deal with contract negotiations or player agents anymore. He had found the expert he needed.


    But the journey was still long.


    She was still a beginner, and before the handover was complete, he would need to teach her how to transition from her role as a personal secretary to Manchester City¡¯s new Director of Football!


    "It seems you¡¯re very busy, young man."


    Suddenly, while Richard was still lost in his thoughts, a voice snapped him out of his daydream. He turned around quickly and, when he saw the person standing there, his eyes lit up.


    "Mr. Ventrone!"


    "Hahaha," he laughed with broken English, then added, "Don¡¯t mind me. I just wanted to leave my coffee cup here," as he waved his hand.


    How could Richard not mind him? After all, Ventrone was his target here


    He smiled and quickly followed up, "Of course, Mr. Ventrone." He then pulled out his business card and said, "Actually, your presentation earlier was quite impressive. I¡¯d love to continue our conversation if you have time."


    Ventrone smiled politely as he glanced at Richard¡¯s business card. "I appreciate your kind words. It¡¯s not often I get such attention from a young chairman. You¡¯re quite different from the ones I¡¯m used to. Do you really love football that much?"


    "Yes, Mr. Ventrone, I do. I¡¯ve always been passionate about the game. Football has a special place in my heart, you know? But it¡¯s also about creating something lasting, something that can compete at the highest levels. That¡¯s why I respect what you¡¯ve done, especially with Juventus. You¡¯ve set a standard that many of us aspire to." He paused, looking to engage Ventrone more deeply. "Mr. Ventrone, I--"


    Before Richard could finish his sentence, Ventrone quickly raised his hand and shook his head, signaling for him to stop.


    "Please, no need to go on," Ventrone interjected in his broken English, with a slight smile that softened his words. "I appreciate your respect, but I am just one part of a much larger system. Juventus is not just about me¡ªit¡¯s about the entire club, the philosophy, the years of development, and most importantly, the players."


    Rejected again!


    This time, it wasn¡¯t a player turning him down¡ªit was a coach!


    Richard cursed inwardly, but on the outside, he nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Ventrone," he said seriously. "I¡¯ll take that to heart."


    The Italian coach gave him a small, approving smile before turning away to attend to other matters.


    Left standing there, Richard could only watch his back before sighing and turning around. With no business left in Stadio delle Alpi, he made his exit.

 Chapter 156: Return to Maine Road

    Chapter 156: Return to Maine RoadJuly 1, 1995. Two weeks had already passed, and the summer break had come and gone.


    Now, it was time to get back to work.


    There were two more players who joined City¡ªboth requested by O¡¯Neill: a right-back and a backup goalkeeper.


    Richard agreed with his request and spent another ¡ê450,000 on Irish right-back Steve Finnan from Welling United, and ¡ê230,000 on goalkeeper Richard Wright from Ipswich Town.


    With this, all of City¡¯s 1995/1996 transfer activity was complete. The total expenditure on player acquisitions was ¡ê4.73 million, allocated as follows:


    Jens Lehmann ¨C ¡ê500,000


    Henrik Larsson ¨C ¡ê650,000


    Mark van Bommel ¨C ¡ê500,000


    Robbie Savage ¨C ¡ê500,000


    Neil Lennon ¨C ¡ê300,000


    Jackie McNamara ¨C ¡ê600,000


    Marco Materazzi ¨C ¡ê500,000


    Gianluca Zambrotta ¨C ¡ê500,000


    Steve Finnan ¨C ¡ê450,000


    Richard Wright ¨C ¡ê230,000


    After selling Sol Campbell and Shaun Goater to Tottenham for eight million, and Rivaldo to PSV for sis million, they still had ¡ê10 million in reserves.


    Manchester City was rich!


    With the additional loan Richard secured from Harry, City now had around ¡ê20 million in total.


    "I guess it¡¯s time to start looking for land to build a new stadium?" Richard asked Miss Heysen, who was standing in front of him.


    There were plans for further expansion at Maine Road to increase the capacity to 45,000 all-seated when the ambitious Francis Lee was in charge of Manchester City, but these were abandoned by Richard the moment he took over.


    Too ambitious to think they could renovate Maine Road and build a new stadium at the same time?


    No way.


    Richard adamantly rejected such a nonsensical plan. Moreover, expanding the current Maine Road would mean having to demolish more nearby houses, which, to be honest, would only add to the costs.


    "Do you have something in mind?" Miss Heysen asked, pulling out her beloved notepad, already poised to jot down his thoughts.


    "Hmm..." Richard thought about it for a moment.


    One mountain can¡¯t have two lions


    The current Manchester United is on their way to reaching their peak. Let¡¯s say they¡¯re on their way to becoming Manchester¡¯s Mufasa. And then Manchester City, on the other hand, is like Simba who hasn¡¯t even learned to walk yet.


    Hearing Richard¡¯s analogy, Miss Heysen was momentarily speechless. "I didn¡¯t take you for a Disney fan."


    "Is that so?" Richard closed his eyes and began to process Manchester¡¯s landscape in his mind.


    ¡¯One mountain can¡¯t have two lions...¡¯ he mulled it over and over.


    Manchester could indeed be categorized as the mountain, but the urban divide between East and West Manchester was glaringly visible, particularly the contrast in their development and industrial histories. East Manchester was still grappling with the effects of post-industrial decline, while West Manchester was more developed and modernized.


    Old Trafford, the home of Manchester United, is located in Greater Manchester, specifically in the Trafford borough, which is to the southwest of the Manchester city center.


    ¡¯That area is already red...¡¯ Richard stopped his thoughts. ¡¯But the east is still affected by industrial decline, poverty, and lack of investment. It was historically home to a working-class population tied to Manchester¡¯s heavy industrial past.¡¯


    Richard opened his eyes and began outlining his plan. "Miss Heysen, we¡¯ll start with the districts, focusing on areas like Eastlands and Ancoats."


    His plan was simple. If United already controls the west, then City will claim the east.


    The city center will serve as the dividing line, but the stadiums shouldn¡¯t be too far apart. In the future, while they won¡¯t be miles apart, they¡¯ll be positioned on opposite sides of Manchester¡¯s city center, with it acting as the natural boundary between the two.


    ¡¯Holy shit, is this the famous battle of Punk Hazard?¡¯ Richard suddenly imagined, as the red and blue rivalry distracted his thoughts.


    After finishing his brainstorming session with Miss Heysen, Richard stood up from his seat and made his way to the training pitch. But just before he exited through the door, he paused.


    Realizing something, he turned back to Miss Heysen and said, "Miss Heysen, please prioritize Marina first. Ensure she adapts to how things work in the football club and in England."


    Miss Heysen nodded, taking Richard¡¯s request seriously. "Of course. I¡¯ll make sure she gets the support she needs to settle in and understand the culture here."


    Richard felt a sense of relief, knowing that Marina¡¯s transition was in capable hands. "Thanks, Miss Heysen," he said before stepping out and heading towards the pitch.


    O¡¯Neill stood at the edge of the training pitch, arms crossed, watching as his players trickled in. Some looked fresh and energized, eager to get going. Others still shook off the last remnants of their vacations, stretching out stiff muscles and rolling their shoulders.


    Solskj?r was juggling a ball at his feet, his touch sharp despite the time off. His movements were smooth and effortless, the ball never once leaving his control. A few younger players nearby stopped to watch, clearly impressed.


    Not far from him, on the bench, sat Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu¡ªshoulders slumped, their energy drained, staring blankly at the pitch with little enthusiasm.


    Coach Steve Walford and Goalkeeping Coach Terry Gennoe were nearby, trying to get a response out of them.


    "Is 23 players enough?"


    Richard suddenly appeared behind O¡¯Neill and Robertson, startling them.


    "Phew, you¡¯re killing me!" O¡¯Neill said, patting his chest. Then he continued, "That¡¯s fine. We actually have two more backups. Wes Brown and Kieron Dyer are both already 16, so they can serve as emergency backups."


    Hearing that, Richard felt relieved.


    As he suddenly remembered something, he asked, "By the way, have you met our new physio?"


    "Dave?"


    Richard nodded, and both O¡¯Neill and Robertson did the same. "Yes," they replied.


    "Good. Make sure we coordinate with them regarding recovery. This season, we have the League, FA Cup, and League Cup. If you can, bring City¡¯s first trophy."


    "Of course, we¡¯re aiming higher. Make sure everyone knows that." S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hearing their response, Richard gave a satisfied nod. Then, his eyes drifted toward Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu¡ªstill sitting on the bench, their energy low and expressions distant.


    "What happened?" Richard asked calmly, noticing the odd mood.


    "They¡¯ve got nothing left in the tank," O¡¯Neill replied.


    "It¡¯s the Copa Am¨¦rica," Robertson added.


    The host country, Uruguay, won it for a record-tying 14th time by beating Brazil 5¨C3 in a penalty shootout after a 1¨C1 draw in the final. They were probably just disappointed.


    Richard nodded, not dwelling too much on it. After all, winning and losing are part of the game. What truly matters is how you respond. It¡¯s not the defeat that defines you¡ªit¡¯s whether you can rise again after it.


    After that, he turned his focus back to the pitch.


    The next to arrive was Jens Lehmann, who greeted him with a simple nod before heading straight to the goalkeepers¡¯ area, stretching his arms as he walked. His focus was razor-sharp, as if preparing for a Champions League final against Real Madrid.


    After last season¡¯s embarrassing performances, he had promised himself to rise from the ashes. Without wasting a moment, he began training immediately with goalkeeping coach Terry Gennoe.


    Materazzi and Zambrotta, the new signings, strolled onto the pitch together, deep in conversation. Their shared nationality had already forged a bond between them. Zambrotta spoke with animated gestures while Materazzi chuckled beside him, shaking his head. Both were still adjusting to life in a foreign country¡ªit felt like, for now, they only had each other.


    "How is it they adapt?" Richard asked, nodding toward the two Italians, who were warming up away from the rest of the group.


    "Language is still an issue, but this is normal¡ªit¡¯s only their first day," someone replied. "We¡¯ve already prepared a little icebreaker for them. Let things flow naturally, without forcing anything."


    With that, the whistle blew, and the first training session of the new season was officially underway.


    After the training session, O¡¯Neill released the list of players selected for the pre-season trip to Scotland.


    Goalkeeper: Jens Lehmann, Richard Wright, Nicky Weaver


    Center Back: Marco Materazzi, William Gallas, Rio Ferdinand, Keith curle.


    Left Back: Cafu, Richard Jobson


    Right Back: Roberto Carlos, Steve Finnan


    Midfielder: Mark Van Bommel, Robbie Savage, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara, Theodoros Zagorakis, Jamie Pollock, Keith Gillespie, Graham fenton, Steve Lomas, Gianluca Zambrotta


    Forwards: Ronaldo, Henrik Larsson, Ole Gunnar Solskj?r


    A total of 24 players.


    The players leaned forward, eyes scanning the fixtures.


    Scotland Short Tour:


    July 10, 1995: Raith Rovers


    July 14, 1995: Hearts


    Ronaldo exchanged glances with Solskj?r, Savage cracked his knuckles, while Larsson nodded slightly, already locked in.


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s voice cut through the murmurs.


    "This will be our real test before the First Division," he said, pacing in front of them. "These teams are no joke. They will punish us if we make mistakes. They will show us where we are weak. And they will expose anyone who isn¡¯t ready for this level."


    Silence.


    Then, he turned sharply, facing the squad.


    "These matches aren¡¯t just about fitness," he continued. "They¡¯re about proving yourself. To me. To your teammates. To the fans. You want to start in the starting lineup? Then show me. You want to start in the Premier League? Then there¡¯s one more step to go."


    His gaze moved across the room, meeting the eyes of every player.


    No one spoke. No one dared to.


    He let the weight of his words settle before clapping his hands once.


    "Get ready. This tour is where we set the standard for the season."

 Chapter 157: Scotland Short Tour

    Chapter 157: Scotland Short Tour[


    Date: July 7, 1995


    Subject: Foreign Player Regulations Across All English Leagues


    Following a thorough review and in line with evolving regulations across European football, the Football Association (FA) hereby announces a formal revision to the regulations governing the eligibility of foreign players in English football.


    Under the new regulation:


    1. Clubs may field an unlimited number of players holding European Union (EU) nationality in any official match.


    2. The maximum number of non-EU players allowed in a matchday squad will be four.


    Effective immediately, the FA believes this new rule will further enhance the competitive nature of English football. The FA remains committed to preserving competitive balance and supporting homegrown player development, while also embracing international talent that contributes to the growth and prestige of the English game.


    We will continue to monitor developments and will make any necessary adjustments in line with evolving regulations across European football.


    For questions or clarification, please contact:The Football Association[Tel: 0171 - XXX - XXXX]


    ]


    Most major leagues had already started making changes in anticipation of the waves the Bosman ruling could bring for quite some time.


    In England, for example, before the Bosman ruling result was finalized, the FA had already lifted the "three foreigner" rule, which had restricted teams to fielding a maximum of three players born outside the country in which they were employed.


    Originally, in the Premiership, the limit of three foreigners in a match squad included Welsh, Scottish, and Northern and Southern Irish players. Now, clubs were allowed to field an unlimited number of players from EU countries, though they were still restricted to fielding four players from non-EU countries.


    "Four players..."


    The butterfly effect played a role here.


    Richard never expected the FA to suddenly fax every club about this abrupt change. His challenge regarding the maximum number of non-EU players had finally triggered a significant shift in policy. (Chapter 69: The Scandal)


    But why now? Why wasn¡¯t this done when Bosman won his case and the rule changes were announced?


    Why now, after Rivaldo has already left City for PSV?!


    Richard slammed his fist in frustration.


    "Fuck!"


    In the original timeline, the limit was supposed to be three, but now it had become four. It¡¯s just that the FA had already announced their stance last year, and he had already given up on his challenge, thinking the situation wouldn¡¯t change.


    Thinking about the situation, Richard made his call to UEFA¡¯s Johannsson.


    "It¡¯s Wiseman¡¯s doing," Johannsson said and continued, "Within FIFA, there are those who support a more global, inclusive approach to the sport. Also, there are some stakeholders in the Premier League who support him. He wants to rally their support with this change."


    After that, he explained that it was a desperate move on his part, fueled by rumors that he had granted ¡ê3.2 million to the Welsh FA. Now, his goal was essentially to gather as many votes as possible to catapult him into FIFA, so even if he were ousted from the FA, he wouldn¡¯t lose his power.


    Richard didn¡¯t care much about this. He only sighed in pity, but soon shrugged it off.


    Now, it was time to focus on the pre-season!


    Before City arrived in Kirkcaldy to begin their short tour, there was a nine-day gap that allowed both new and existing players to connect with their coach and staff, including the new head physio and the backroom team.


    Usually, when a new player arrives or after the pre-season begins, there¡¯s an introduction session combined with preseason medicals, which typically include a physical examination, fitness testing¡ªsuch as heart rate, stamina, and joint mobility¡ªand a check for past injuries, which is mostly done through questioning.


    But this time, Richard personally asked Fevre to add more medical tests for the players, including the use of ultrasound and MRI, with a focus on knee and ankle injury history, as well as cardiac screening.


    "To be honest, for ultrasound and MRI, it¡¯s better we use them for major signings since it costs us much more than the usual," Fevre said in response after Richard presented his idea.


    Richard agreed with this, but this time he still insisted that Fevre conduct the tests according to his request, especially for Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu. He prioritized them since they had just returned from the Copa America.


    Since it was a personal request from the boss, Fevre dutifully conducted the tests and paid special attention to the Brazilians.


    Richard felt assured by this.


    ¡¯Yes,¡¯ he thought, progress is gradual. A culture can¡¯t be built overnight. Sometimes it takes time for things to fall into place. The foundation is key. We have to lay it brick by brick.


    Richard didn¡¯t join the squad, as he was with the new CEO, Miss Heysen, and the club¡¯s new Director of Football, Marina Granovskaia.


    "Hey, Marina," Richard called out to her as they walked towards the stadium.


    She turned, nodding at him


    "How are you settling in? Adjusting to the pace here?" Richard asked.


    "It¡¯s been... different," she admitted openly. "To be honest, under Mr. Abramovich, I was used to a faster, more direct. But here¡ªit has its own rhythm, its own culture. I¡¯m getting there, though."


    Richard nodded, understanding. Then he suddenly remembered something.


    "By the way, Mr. Abramovich sends his regards," Richard said, before teasing her with a smirk. "He also mentioned something interesting. He said, ¡¯I stole you when he was just about to start his new company in London.¡¯"


    Marina raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t show much emotion. "There¡¯s also my sister involved in that. So, in a sense, he didn¡¯t really need me¡ªhe had her to handle most of it."


    "I see," Richard said, nodding.


    That wasn¡¯t the reaction he had expected. After a short pause, Richard spoke again. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "By the way... why was Mr. Abramovich starting a company in London, anyway?" He suddenly leaned in slightly, curious. "Don¡¯t tell me he was actually interested in football?"


    There was no way, right?


    After all, the acquisition of Chelsea¡¯s top players happened in the early 2000s¡ªif he remembered correctly¡ªthough he couldn¡¯t recall the exact year.


    Marina looked at Richard with a slightly puzzled expression, then shook her head.


    "Mr. Abramovich doesn¡¯t have time to play around," she said. "If he ever does something, it¡¯s never casual. He commits¡ªor he doesn¡¯t get involved at all."


    "So you¡¯re saying, for example, if he gets involved... he¡¯s all in?"


    Marina paused, thinking for a moment before responding.


    "He doesn¡¯t make moves without a long-term vision. If he¡¯s in the stands, it¡¯s not just to watch¡ªit¡¯s part of something bigger. That¡¯s what he used to say to me and my sister. At first, I thought he was just boasting, but after everything he pulled off in Moscow... I realized he meant every word."


    "...I guess that explains a lot," he muttered.


    Soon, the three of them arrived at the gate, presented their tickets, and made their way to the VIP stands.


    Today, City were facing the Scottish heavyweights¡ªRaith Rovers Football Club.


    The 1994/1995 season was the most successful in Raith Rovers¡¯ history. Managed by Jimmy Nicholl, they pulled off a stunning upset by beating Celtic 6¨C5 on penalties to win the Coca-Cola Cup, following a dramatic 2¨C2 draw.


    As a result of that cup victory, Raith qualified for European competition¡ªthe UEFA Cup¡ªfor the first time in their history. And as if that wasn¡¯t enough, they also earned promotion to the Premier Division after winning the First Division title.


    PHWEEE!


    On a sunny Saturday afternoon, the stands at Stark¡¯s Park were packed, buzzing with anticipation.


    The local supporters, clad in navy and white, waved their scarves proudly, while a very small section of City fans¡ªmostly traveling supporters and curious locals¡ªadded their own energy to the crowd.


    Despite it being only a friendly, the match had a competitive edge. Raith, playing on home turf, weren¡¯t planning to roll over for the English visitors. Meanwhile, City¡¯s lineup featured a mix of young talents, seasoned veterans, and a few fresh faces eager to impress.


    Richard leaned forward slightly in his seat, eyes locked on the pitch. He wasn¡¯t watching as a fan¡ªhe was studying. Every movement, every pass, every hesitation told him something about the team¡¯s readiness for the season ahead.


    Finally, Manchester City¡¯s preseason kicked off.

 Chapter 158: Director of Football: Marina Granovskaia

    Chapter 158: Director of Football: Marina GranovskaiaThe nine days before preseason were enough for O¡¯Neil, who was almost always present at the training ground, personally overseeing the players in various drills.


    During breaks, he would instill tactical ideas into the players and discuss individual positions and technical development with each of them. He was also very patient while explaining, always waiting for the players who hadn¡¯t yet mastered English to catch up.


    The young players all possessed extraordinary talent, especially those he had personally chosen. Robbie Savage, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara, Steve Finnan, Theodoros Zagorakis, and Richard Wright were among those he believed had the potential to make a significant impact.


    He emphasized the importance of seemingly simple aspects of the game, highlighting how even the smallest details could have a significant impact. Perhaps it was simply his sincere dedication to spending every day with the players that made an impact.


    In a short period, he built a strong relationship with the players, which served as a solid foundation.


    Take Zambrotta, for example. He was never built to be a striker, yet Como had misused him in that role. Under O¡¯Neil¡¯s guidance, he helped him avoid unnecessary detours. It took time, but it proved to be effective.


    Zambrotta was a highly versatile player, capable of excelling as a left-back, right-back, or even a wide midfielder. This was the role O¡¯Neil had in mind for him at City this season.


    Soon, the players emerged from the tunnel. Though it was just a routine friendly match with no television broadcast, the atmosphere was still charged. The club¡¯s announcer called out each player¡¯s name one by one as they lined up beside the tunnel.


    For City, O¡¯Neil still used his favorite 4-4-2 formation:


    GK: Richard Wright


    Defenders: Richard Jobson, Ferdinand, William Gallas, Steve Finnan.


    Midfielders: Neil Lennon, Robbie Savage, Theodoros Zagorakis, Gianluca Zambrotta


    Forwards: Henrik Larsson, Solskj?r


    As each name echoed throughout the stadium, cheers and applause erupted from the stands. However, most of the noise came from the local supporters, clad in navy and white, who waved their scarves proudly.


    Richard then saw O¡¯Neil walk over to shake hands with Raith¡¯s coach out of courtesy.


    PHWEEE!


    City¡¯s lineup boasted an average age in their early twenties, while Raith¡¯s players were seasoned veterans. From the start, Raith seized the initiative, launching wave after wave of long balls that put immense pressure on City¡¯s defense.


    This was the perfect time to test how strong their defense was after the departure of Campbell.


    After Raith¡¯s attack concluded, City¡¯s counterattack, however, didn¡¯t fare well, with frequent mistakes. Even Zambrotta and Larsson made basic passing errors and struggled with their positioning.


    "That¡¯s okay, that¡¯s okay. Keep playing, don¡¯t worry about it!" O¡¯Neil¡¯s reassuring voice rang out as he encouraged Zambrotta after his misplaced pass.


    The atmosphere was tense, and Roberson leaned in to O¡¯Neillss ear, whispering, "Should we give them a reminder? They seem too tight."


    Without missing a beat, O¡¯Neil replied calmly, "They haven¡¯t found their rhythm yet. It¡¯s only been fifteen minutes. The weather in Scotland is quite different from Italy. Look, Gian has slipped again. The pitch is wet, and the new players aren¡¯t used to it. Plus, he¡¯s still adjusting to playing as a wide midfielder. No worries, let them find their feel for the game. It¡¯s just a friendly match."


    Soon, another attack from Raith was thwarted by Gallas, who played in his natural position.


    "Our defense has been surprisingly solid; that¡¯s a good sign. If we can avoid conceding, that¡¯s already a positive outcome."


    The partnership between Ferdinand and Gallas provided solid aerial defense.


    Though Ferdinand occasionally surged forward with a bit too much enthusiasm, Gallas was quick to cover for him. For the most part, the threats toward the backline were nothing more than false alarms.


    "They¡¯re good," came the sudden voice from beside him.


    It was Ms. Marina Granovskaia.


    Richard didn¡¯t respond immediately. He looked left and right before asking, "Where¡¯s Miss Heysen?"


    "Oh, she said she went to get some fish and chips."


    "..."


    Richard turned his attention back to the match. "Indeed. But they¡¯re still making amateur mistakes."


    "...By the way," she suddenly said. "Mr. Richard, can you help me understand something?"


    Richard raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from the match. "Of course, what¡¯s on your mind?"


    Marina hesitated for a second before continuing, looking a little unsure. "To be honest, I¡¯m still getting the hang of everything here. The role you just introduced to me... it¡¯s never existed before, right?"


    She paused, collecting her thoughts. "Director of football... I¡¯m trying to figure it out. Miss Heysen mentioned something about managing the overall strategy for player development, but also handling transfers and contracts as well? I¡¯m just... a bit confused about the full scope of my responsibilities."


    ¡¯Finally asking about it,¡¯ Richard smiled lightly at her question. It was clear she was trying to make sense of her new role, something he appreciated.


    Sporting directors, technical directors, directors of football ¡ª all these roles have come to the top of the news agenda in the future of football.


    Richard pondered for a moment, thinking about how to explain it to her as simply as possible.


    "On the one hand it¡¯s the same thing and on the other, it isn¡¯t... at least when it comes to the Premier League. Confusing? right


    On one hand, they¡¯re the same thing, but on the other, they¡¯re not¡ªat least not in the context of English football today. Even in the future, with the rise of big data and AI, the role remains somewhat vague and constantly flirting with the boundaries of authority."


    On the one hand, it¡¯s the same thing, and on the other, it isn¡¯t... at least when it comes to current English football.


    Even in the future, in the era of big data and AI, the role will still be vague and borderline flirting with crossing the red line.


    From what Richard conceptualized, the director of football (DoF) title appears to be a lingering anachronism from the bygone days when the managers tended to be all-encompassing operators.


    Think of the likes of Sir Alex Ferguson and Arsene Wenger, whose powers in roughly all aspects of their football clubs ¨C bar finances and commercial operations ¨C were practically total.


    Not that those managerial legends ever worked under or together with a DoF, but at other places ¨C such as David Pleat at Tottenham Hotspur ¨C the transfer activity (i.e. scouting, negotiations) was moved away from the manager¡¯s remit and assigned to a DoF. Thus, the DoF would typically report to the owner, chairperson or the board, which in his case is Richard himself. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In other words, some managers reported directly to the upper echelons, while others didn¡¯t. Equally, some managers were happy to work under such a structure, whereas others were less enthusiastic.


    "Probably it¡¯s the chain of command that used to be nebulous and hard for you to understand," Richard said, and then he explained.


    "The overriding idea is for one executive to have overall responsibility for the footballing side of a club. To secure continuity it¡¯s better that this isn¡¯t the head coach, as they tend to come and go."


    "..."


    "You read about City¡¯s philosophy in your director onboarding pack, right?"


    Marina nodded.


    "You do realize that, until now, Manchester City doesn¡¯t have any scouts, unlike other clubs, right?"


    Marina nodded again.


    "To be honest, when I started at City, my philosophy was to take full control over transfer activities so that the manager or coach could focus solely on tactics and their game plan."


    This was how the club operated, no exceptions.


    This is what Richard initially thought about Manchester City.


    However, the recent transfer activity with O¡¯Neill and his recent trip to Italy taught him many things.


    Every manager buys players with their own characteristics in mind. Even if he buys the best of the best, it doesn¡¯t necessarily mean that player will thrive in O¡¯Neill¡¯s team. It¡¯s about working with people. And no one likes to feel as though something has been taken from them.


    "In an ideal world, your role as director of Football is to be my eyes and ears ¡¯on the ground,¡¯ and you are tasked with overseeing the day-to-day running of the sporting operations at Manchester City."


    Depending on the actual mandates handed to the occupant of the role, for Richard, Manchester City¡¯s director of Football role, as envisioned by Marina Granovskaia, looked like this.


    "So, I¡¯d be like your right-hand person? Sort of like how I was Mr. Abramovich¡¯s personal secretary?"


    Richard shook his head. "That¡¯s why I suddenly brought up the fact that City doesn¡¯t have any scouts. It¡¯s hard to define clearly. To be honest, your role overlaps a lot with what people typically see as a chief scout. With transfers always stirring up excitement and debate, it¡¯s easy to reduce the director of football role to something like a glorified scout."


    Marina frowned at this explanation. "You mean the recruitment side? Wait¡ªusually, every transfer at a football club is judged and handled by the manager or coach, right? And now you suddenly introduce another new role that overlaps with the original scouts¡ªis that fair?"


    Richard shrugged. But in the future, with the emergence of foreign owners in the Premier League and clearer management structures, many new positions were created. He was just getting ahead of it¡ªjust copying them to prepare for those owners to arrive.


    "For some clubs, their manager enjoys total control, but not with Manchester City," Richard shook his head.


    Not with City, which wants to dive into the era of big data earlier.


    "At most, our manager will have control over tactics and player management, but they have to work with other departments later on. Let¡¯s say, positively, our manager will enjoy some input when it comes to selecting reinforcements or deciding who to let go. For that reason, the signing of a player is rarely down to one person; it¡¯s generally a team effort headed by you," Richard pointed toward Marina Granovskaia and continued, "As the director of football."


    Richard didn¡¯t let Marina speak and continued, "For that reason, your diplomatic skills will come into full force. Not only do you need to be able to manage upwards to convince our manager why the proposed reinforcement is needed, but when dealing with agents and other clubs, the ability to read the room, exert leadership skills, communicate well internally, and have a strong sense of what is best for the club."


    ".."


    Marina was silent for a moment, trying to visualize this "new role" that seemed to have been created on the spot. The explanation had left her feeling a bit dizzy. Finally, she asked the last question:


    "How do I, as director of football, interact with others at the club? Specifically, with player signings or the manager? Please, just summarize it as simply as possible."


    Richard tapped his finger on the table as he pondered the question before giving his best answer.


    "It¡¯s a fair assumption that the majority of signings are the result of compromises rather than the work of one person or a unanimous decision. Yet, as a general rule, the director of football makes the final decision."


    "And the general principle is that the director of football holds stronger mandates, reporting directly to the top dogs only?"


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡¯Did she just call me a dog?¡¯


    Though analogically, she wasn¡¯t wrong.


    "Well, I wouldn¡¯t exactly call them top dogs, but yes... kind of."

 Chapter 159: To Find the Rhythm

    Chapter 159: To Find the RhythmIf City were playing in France or Spain, they would undoubtedly face a chorus of boos echoing from one end of the stands to the other. But here in Scotland, where the culture is not so different from English football, the moment your team is at a disadvantage¡ªwhether it¡¯s a clearance, a tackle, or a collision, regardless of its legality¡ªRaith¡¯s supporters would cheer.


    This is why English football has never fully shaken off hooliganism. Even their own fans take pleasure in such spectacles, so how could the club simply abandon this culture?


    Fans don¡¯t cheer based on whether their team plays conservatively or with flair, nor do they abandon their passionate chants when the scoreline turns against them. For them, loyalty¡ªoften passed down through generations¡ªis steadfast, regardless of whether their club is in the depths of despair or basking in glory.


    Currently, the one who is truly being cheered by Raith fans is not a player from Raith, but one from Manchester City.


    "Bloody hell, that guy definitely didn¡¯t kick the ball, did he? He was definitely aiming for the other guy¡¯s leg!"


    With his long blond hair, he stood out even more among the players on the pitch. But it wasn¡¯t because of his skill or commanding presence¡ªit was his...


    "What¡¯s the matter? Did I hurt your feelings? Shouldn¡¯t have stepped on the pitch if you can¡¯t handle it."


    First, the snide provocation.


    "Was that a foul, or are you just slow?"


    Second, all the shirt tugs.


    "Ref, are you going to give him a free kick for that? He¡¯s been rolling around like he¡¯s in the middle of a drama show!"


    Third, the tactical fouls.


    "You sure that was a foul, ref? You must be the only one who saw that¡ªmy mum¡¯s got better eyesight, and she¡¯s not even here!"


    And finally, the referee had had enough of his antics...


    PHWEEE!


    A yellow card.


    Not even ten minutes passed.


    And Robbie Savage gestured towards being a hardman¡ªwithout any of the iron-willed, kneecap-shattering menace the position demands.


    Though the first half was far from thrilling and at times lackluster, Raith¡¯s fans still savored it, cheering enthusiastically throughout, thanks to the presence of the blond man, Robbie Savage.


    The reason is simple: this tough, tenacious persona¡ªunafraid to engage in fierce confrontations with opponents¡ªis exactly what fans admire most.


    If a player hesitates to embrace contact or the fight for possession, it would undoubtedly leave the fans disheartened.


    At the heart of English, Scottish, Irish, and Welsh football culture, there¡¯s a deep belief that football is a man¡¯s game. Fans crave intensity, passion, and unwavering commitment.


    As the first half concluded with the score at 0-0, O¡¯Neill was the first to stride down the players¡¯ tunnel.


    Although City spent much of the first half focused on defensive duties¡ªshowing commendable resilience¡ªthere was a noticeable lack of effective and fluid attacking play. This was especially evident considering O¡¯Neill¡¯s tactical instructions, which restricted all players, except the center-backs, from playing aimless long balls.


    Raith, despite this being only a friendly match, were clearly treating it seriously. After all, they had just won the league last season, and they were eager to maintain that confidence by overcoming another title-winning club.


    In the locker room, O¡¯Neill stood calmly as his players filed in to rest. His tone was composed, but clear.


    "The first half was solid. For a friendly, I¡¯m not asking for perfection¡ªtreat it like a training session. But let me be clear: stick to the tactical plan. Defense comes first. Robbie, watch the fouls in dangerous areas in the second half. Henrik!"


    Upon hearing the coach call his name, Larsson felt a flicker of anxiety, worried he might be taken off. But as O¡¯Neill offered his advice instead, he nodded quickly in acknowledgment, eager to show he understood.


    "Henrik, keep your movement sharp. Don¡¯t drop too deep¡ªlet Solskj?r handle the dirty work. I want you pressing their back line and staying alert for any loose balls. If we get a break, I trust you to finish it."


    Tactically, O¡¯Neill saw little that needed changing. The squad had only been training together for ten days, so expecting instant cohesion and intuitive understanding was unrealistic.


    His instructions remained simple: hold your positions and take responsibility for your defensive roles within your assigned zones. With a solid defensive foundation, he believed the team would gradually find their rhythm and perform more fluidly.


    Had he started with overly demanding tasks¡ªbalancing defense, attack, and intricate positional play¡ªO¡¯Neill feared it would only lead to chaos, disrupting not just the players but himself as well.


    This was the time to shape the team, to lay down a solid foundation first.


    After offering some calm encouragement during halftime, O¡¯Neill clapped his hands, signaling his players to return to the pitch for the second half. He urged them to embrace the game freely, without pressure.


    As the second half kicked off, Richard remained seated in the stands. He turned to Marina beside him.


    "So, what do you think? How¡¯s City looking so far?"


    She paused briefly before replying,


    "It¡¯s fine I guess. But that guy with the long hair¡ªare you sure he¡¯s even a footballer?"


    Richard burst out laughing.


    "Haha!"


    Indeed, Robbie Savage¡¯s style of play was... unique.


    Lacking exceptional talent, he made up for it with controversy.


    Even years into the future, anyone with even a passing interest in football would have something to say about him. Few would offer praise¡ªmost would have some sharp words, if not outright insults. But that, in its own way, was a compliment.


    If United had their own Eric Cantona¡ªa magnet for controversy who kept people talking for decades¡ªthen perhaps City had found their own version in Robbie Savage.


    Richard then saw from the bench that O¡¯Neill had begun instructing several players to warm up: Materazzi, Van Bommel, Roberto Carlos, Cafu, Jens Lehmann, and Ronaldo.


    The atmosphere on the field remained flat, as City continued to play conservatively, while Raith increasingly realized that City¡¯s defense was resolute.


    Ten minutes into the second half, they abandoned their attempts to build penetrative play on the ground and instead opted for the simplest method of attack: long balls and aerial crosses.


    Finally, everything changed on the 65th minute.


    O¡¯Neill nodded and went to call for substitutions.


    Soon, a group of substitute players darted to the sideline, waiting for their turn to enter.


    "Marco Materazzi, Mark Van Bommel, Roberto Carlos, Cafu, Jens Lehmann, and Ronaldo, coming on for Rio Ferdinand, Robbie Savage, Steve Finnan, Richard Jobson, Richard Wright, and Solskj?r!" the commentator announced.


    Suddenly, a tidal wave of boos erupted from the stands as passionate fans shouted, "SAVAGE! SAVAGE! SAVAGE!"


    Robbie Savage, ever the showman, raised his hand like he was some kind of rock star, soaking in the boos like they were applause. With a cheeky grin, he took a seat on the bench, as if he¡¯d just pulled off the greatest performance of his career.


    On the field, Raith attempted another cross from the flanks. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Their right midfielder managed to send a diagonal long pass into City¡¯s penalty area just before Cafu could close in for a challenge.


    The ball¡¯s trajectory was perfect, landing right around the penalty spot¡ªa golden opportunity for the strikers to dart in and head it.


    Raith¡¯s two forwards surged toward the ball¡¯s landing spot, and the fans held their breath, nervously watching the attack unfold.


    "Hoo..."


    Richard exhaled in relief as Materazzi intercepted the ball, heading it clear of danger and straight to Neil Lennon¡¯s feet.


    Applause erupted from the stands, but the fans were quickly silenced as Manchester City launched a swift counterattack before the clapping had even subsided.


    Lennon collected the ball, turned sharply, and noticed the opposing central midfielder pressing high up the pitch. With a calm feint, he passed the ball to Cafu, who had made a run up the right flank, determined to make up for his earlier mistake.


    Cafu didn¡¯t hesitate. He played a quick, diagonal pass to Larsson, who stood just inside the center circle.


    Richard watched as City¡¯s counterattack unfolded with fluid precision, and his heart raced. He stood up, shouting from the sidelines, urging his players to stay focused!


    Larsson carried the ball forward a few steps and then passed it to Ronaldo, drifting in from the left toward the center.


    Just before the defenders could close in, Ronaldo passed back to Larsson, who had already escaped his marker, as the defender switched focus from him to Ronaldo.


    Everything happened so fast!


    The ball from Ronaldo was cut in from the left flank to the outer edge of the opposing penalty area.


    And here, Henrik Larsson, upon receiving the ball, took the shot...


    "GOAL!!!"

 Chapter 160: Scotland Short Tour End

    Chapter 160: Scotland Short Tour EndThe first goal against Raith Rovers F.C. came in the 65th minute, with Henrik Larsson opening the scoring.


    The initial formation was 4-4-2, but O¡¯Neill later substituted Larsson to prepare for a clash with Hearts and switched the formation to 4-3-3, with Ronaldo up front.


    Zambrotta, who played as the right winger, truly impressed in the second half. He capitalized on Raith¡¯s players¡¯ lack of fitness, continually outpacing them throughout the match.


    His main attributes were his pace, marking ability, tackling, strength, and stamina, which allowed him to make surging, overlapping attacking runs up the flank with the ball after winning back possession.


    On the right flank, he was always a threat, as Richard could see the left back of Raith practically gasping for air, having just returned from a long off-season break, meaning their fitness was still lacking.


    It wasn¡¯t until the 79th minute that another goal came, with Ronaldo scoring from a corner kick by Neil Lennon.


    The second half finally ended with City winning the match 2-0, with goals from Larsson and Ronaldo.


    After the match with Raith Rovers, the next day City immediately departed from Kirkcaldy to Edinburgh.


    The team bus arrived at Tynecastle Park, Edinburgh, and the players and coaching staff immediately checked into the hotel ahead of that night¡¯s training session.


    There were still two days remaining before the match against Heart of Midlothian Football Club, commonly known as Hearts.


    While Richard was on a call with Fay, discussing matters related to Maddox Auto, then a knock sounded at the door.


    It was O¡¯Neill.


    "What is it?" Richard asked, ending his call.


    "Did I disturb you, Chairman?"


    Richard shook his head. "No, it¡¯s fine."


    Personally, he never saw himself as being above anyone else just because they worked for him. That attitude made people around him feel comfortable in his presence.


    However, his quirks occasionally left others speechless¡ªsuch as his adamant refusal to give his manager full control over transfers.


    This sometimes made O¡¯Neill think twice about continuing the partnership. Thankfully, more than half of the players he had requested had been signed, so for now, he had no complaints about Richard personally.


    "Chairman, do you really think three strikers are enough to get us through a 52-match season?"


    Richard¡¯s eyes flicked up sharply.


    He recognized that tone¡ªit was O¡¯Neill easing into a transfer request. And to be fair, the man had a point.


    Three strikers for an English campaign, especially with cup competitions and the kind of physical toll it brings, was cutting it close. More so with O¡¯Neill¡¯s preference for a classic 4-4-2, which often required two forwards starting every match.


    "You¡¯ve got someone in mind?"


    O¡¯Neill shook his head. "Not yet. But I¡¯d rather we start scouting early than scramble in January when we¡¯re thin and desperate."


    No begging, no politics¡ªjust a quiet statement of footballing logic. And he respected that.


    "Is there a specific type you¡¯re looking for?"


    "Someone reliable¡ªjust like Larsson," he said. "Not flashy, not fragile. I don¡¯t need a superstar¡ªI need a worker. Strong in the air, good with his back to goal, and if possible, someone who can spot gaps in the opposing defense."


    "What kind of gaps? Like Ronaldo¡ªdribbling past defenders and exploiting space? Or like Ole¡ªwho¡¯s always in the right place inside the box?"


    "Is there a second Ronaldo out there?"


    "..."


    This time, Richard shut his mouth.


    "Fine then, I¡¯ll start looking for your player," Richard said. "By the way, Martin, let me tell you something."


    Richard then informed O¡¯Neill about Marina Granovskaia¡¯s future role.


    From now on, if he needed anything related to players, he could contact Marina directly¡ªthere was no need to go through him anymore.


    This made O¡¯Neill frown, but Richard stopped him before he could say anything.


    "I know you have many questions, but let¡¯s save that for now¡ªuntil we go back to Maine Road."


    With no other choice, O¡¯Neill reluctantly left Richard¡¯s room, his mind filled with unanswered questions.


    For the next match, O¡¯Neill still used his favorite 4-4-2 formation.


    GK: Richard Wright


    Defenders: Richard Jobson, Materazzi, William Gallas, Steve Finnan.


    Midfielders: Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara, Theodoros Zagorakis, Gianluca Zambrotta


    Forwards: Henrik Larsson, Solskj?r


    The only change was that Robbie Savage was not included, as his position was taken by Jackie McNamara, and Ferdinand was also replaced by Materazzi.


    Unlike the match against Raith Rovers, where the pitch was wet and slippery, the ground this time was dry, allowing O¡¯Neill to confidently test the pressing strategy he had employed the previous season.


    From the opening whistle, City took control.


    Larsson was the key.


    In the previous match, it was Solskj?r who dropped deeper to collect the ball, but this time O¡¯Neill wanted to use Larsson to test his vision and footballing intelligence, making him a key link between midfield and attack.


    Larsson¡¯s role for this match was twofold. First, he was tasked with connecting with the midfielders, especially in tight spaces, and creating chances both for himself and his teammates. Second, O¡¯Neill encouraged him to play freely, stretch the defense, and create opportunities, which he did, often delivering key moments.


    Finally, in the 30th minute, Manchester City found the breakthrough.


    McNamara had the ball just inside Hearts¡¯ half, calmly surveying the field. He spotted Steve Finnan making an overlapping run on the right, played it out wide, and instantly demanded the return pass.


    McNamara obliged, laying the ball back to Neil Lennon, who shifted his weight and clipped a delicate pass forward into space for Finnan.


    The Irishman exploded forward, leaving the Hearts¡¯ left-back scrambling to catch up.


    Richard stood up immediately. This was it.


    Finnan cut inside onto his right foot, curling a shot toward the far post.


    It looked perfect. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For a moment, it seemed like it was bending into the net¡ª


    Until Hearts¡¯ keeper reacted. He dived low, stretching fully to his right, and got just enough fingertips on the ball to tip it wide.


    The City bench groaned in frustration.


    Richard groaned too.


    That was until, out of nowhere, Henrik Larsson appeared on the scene, charging into the box like a man on a mission.


    With a burst of speed, he was there¡ªright in front of the loose ball. Without hesitation, Larsson smashed it with all his might.


    The Hearts goalkeeper, already down from his earlier save, could do little more than flail helplessly. The power behind Larsson¡¯s shot left him no chance.


    The ball flew past him, hitting the back of the net with a satisfying thud.


    "Henrik Larsson!!!"


    Larsson stood still for a moment, his arms slightly raised in acknowledgment. His usual composed celebration. He gave a quick glance to his teammates and offered a brief nod, as if to say, "Job done," before turning back toward the center circle.


    People gave a polite round of applause, acknowledging the quality of the strike, but without the usual frenzy. After all, this was only a friendly.


    With City pinning Hearts deep in their own half, Richard had already shifted his focus elsewhere. Confident the result was secure, he reached into his bag and pulled out a thick, slightly worn worn notebook marked "CONFIDENTIAL: TRANSFER LISTS."


    Inside were handwritten notes, scouting reports, and clippings¡ªnames he had circled, underlined, and starred. His eyes scanned the pages methodically. These were the players he believed could shape City¡¯s future


    "This is how I usually run things. Every player, every scout report¡ªit¡¯s all in this notebook," Richard said before opening the leather-bound book. "Each player we¡¯re tracking is listed here: name, age, position, current club, contract details¡ªwhatever we can gather."


    He flipped to an old page: Ronaldo Lu¨ªs Naz¨¢rio de Lima ¡ª Striker ¡ª Cruzeiro.


    "Scouts send their reports by mail or telex. Sometimes they call it in, and we jot it down here. You¡¯ll need to get good at deciphering a scout¡¯s handwriting."


    "GOAALLL!"


    A roar from the stands and a wave of applause briefly interrupted their conversation.


    Richard glanced up with a small smile, then turned his attention back to Marina.


    "If you and O¡¯Neill have already agreed on a player," he said, picking up where he left off, "you can request the VHS tapes. If we have footage in City¡¯s archive, you can review it immediately. If not, you¡¯ll need to file a request through the scout database. Study it. Know what you¡¯re seeing."


    He slid over another folder.


    "Here¡¯s the club¡¯s working transfer list. It¡¯s short on purpose¡ªI want a maximum of five targets at any given time. If O¡¯Neill wants someone, he comes to you first. If you approve it, add the name here, or consult with me first."


    After looking at how Richard did it, Marina nodded.


    "And don¡¯t forget: the FA¡¯s rules matter. We¡¯re limited in how many non-EU players we can sign. So you keep a separate list of South Americans or Africans who hold dual passports. The scouts might miss it¡ªyou can¡¯t."


    Marina nodded, flipping through the list, her mind already processing it.


    "Now," Richard said suddenly, turning to Marina Granovskaia. "O¡¯Neill has requested another striker for his team. I¡¯ll give you the freedom to choose the player you want to sign. Once you¡¯ve done your analysis, bring it to me, and I¡¯ll review it."


    Marina instantly became serious and nodded, determined to prove herself.

 Chapter 161: The Last Recuritment

    Chapter 161: The Last RecuritmentRichard¡¯s vision for Marina Granovskaia as City¡¯s new Director of Football is simple: he wants to replicate how Abramovich used her diplomatic skills to their fullest.


    Her responsibilities will include contract negotiations, club-agent-player relations, managerial support, and developing the transfer strategy.


    This is how Richard envisions the Director of Football¡¯s role.


    So, essentially, the current City organization chart is divided among three key figures:


    Richard Maddox (Chairman): Has the final say on overall club strategy and oversees the entire club¡¯s operations.


    Miss Heysen (CEO): Focuses on financial sustainability, liaising with governing bodies and external relations, and handling brand and commercial strategy.


    Marina Granovskaia (DoF): Manages football operations, including player recruitment, transfers, scouting (later), negotiations, and contracts.


    The Director of Football focuses on the sporting side, while the CEO manages the business side, and both report directly to him as the Chairman. It¡¯s all about collaboration, where each party provides and receives input.


    Thanks to O¡¯Neill begging him to sign the player he wanted, Richard decided to change his approach, moving from a centralized structure to a more collaborative one where all decisions are made together.


    After giving Marina Granovskaia the task of searching for a striker for O¡¯Neill, Richard soon left her to focus on it while he continued to watch how City demolished Hearts.


    City were already leading by two goals, with Larsson scoring the first and Solskj?r adding the second after threatening the opponent¡¯s post with three quick-fire chances, though none ended up in the goal.


    For the rest of the match, City didn¡¯t push too hard, playing it safe as O¡¯Neill focused more on testing and experimenting with City¡¯s defense rather than attacking.


    Richard, in the stands, was delighted with the result as City swept through the Scotland tour, leaving the team optimistic. As the match came to an end, the Scotland tour wrapped up.


    The team celebrated their victory, but the focus quickly shifted to what usually happens after such games.


    In the locker room, O¡¯Neill addressed the players, praising their performance but also emphasizing areas for improvement.


    Meanwhile, Richard and Marina stood quietly outside the locker room, waiting for O¡¯Neill to finish addressing the team.


    After a few moments, the door opened, and O¡¯Neill emerged. He gave Richard and Marina a quick nod, acknowledging their presence, before stepping aside to allow the team to exit.


    As the players filed out, each gave O¡¯Neill a brief handshake or a slap on the back, and Richard exchanged a few words with some of them.


    Once the last of the players had left, O¡¯Neill remained with his coaching staff, gathered in a corner of the locker room.


    "I am here for your striker request," Richard stated, pointing to Marina.


    "You tell her about the type of striker you need, and she will handle the search. Once she compiles a list of players who meet the criteria, we¡¯ll discuss which one is the best fit, and then she¡¯ll handle the rest."


    Robertson raised an eyebrow at this.


    After all, only O¡¯Neill had been briefed by Richard, so he was the one in the loop, and the others were still also unclear.


    After Richard left with Marina, Robertson turned to O¡¯Neill, sensing something was on his mind.


    "Aren¡¯t you going to say something?" he asked.


    Martin O¡¯Neill shook his head. The recent transfers Richard had made for him had already left him satisfied. It was just that he felt it was a pity Richard couldn¡¯t secure Chris Sutton for him, but he didn¡¯t feel disappointed. After all, it was unrealistic to sign one of the best players from a club that had just won the Premier League and bring him to the First Division.


    "From what I understand, she¡¯ll handle the transfers and negotiations, and we¡¯ll focus on the team. So far, they haven¡¯t acted independently and are still willing to listen to us. Let¡¯s try working with them for now and see if we fit with this system."


    Since the boss said so, Robertson and the other coaches also decided to shut it down.


    Done with the Scotland short tour, the team, Richard and his entourage returned to England together.


    A week later, Manchester City will continue their preseason by facing Stockport. So for the next six days, the first squad will continue their usual training sessions in preparation for the upcoming match.


    Richard was busy for these six days as well.


    First, he had a visit from an old friend¡ªJohn Humpreys, the current Managing Director of Umbro. John greeted Richard warmly, his face lighting up with a smile as he shook his hand.


    "Congratulations on the promotion, Richard! I knew you¡¯d get there eventually,"


    Richard shook his head, a wry smile crossing his face. "Before we¡¯re in the Premier League, there¡¯s no reason for congratulations. We¡¯ve still got work to do."


    John chuckled, understanding Richard¡¯s mindset. "True, always the realist," he remarked.


    After the brief pleasantries, Richard, Miss Heysen, and Marina Granovskaia led John Humphreys into the meeting room.


    "By the way, let me introduce you. This is our new Director of Football," Richard said, gesturing to Marina.


    Humphreys was taken aback for a moment, but he quickly recovered and extended his hand to Marina with a friendly smile.


    "Nice to meet you,"


    Marina shook his hand confidently, offering a polite but firm greeting.


    "A pleasure, Mr. Humphreys"


    John Humphreys visited City today as a representative of Umbro for two main reasons.


    The first reason was to present the revised jersey designs. Humphreys brought the updated versions following a last-minute request from Richard, who felt the current City kit looked too plain and too similar to those from the Peter Swales era, when Umbro was also the club¡¯s kit supplier.


    Richard requested that the plain blue jersey be updated with a subtle pattern, the white background on the badge be removed, and a subtle City logo watermark be added to the front of the jersey.


    "This one is good."


    After reviewing all the designs brought by Umbro¡¯s designer and discussing them with Miss Heysen and Marina, they finally agreed on one.


    Done with the jersey discussion, Humphreys then brought up the second reason for his visit¡ªand why he came personally instead of sending a staff member.


    "Umbro Cup?" Richard raised an eyebrow at the mention.


    Seeing his confusion, Humphreys explained:


    England did not compete in the 1994 FIFA World Cup after finishing third in their qualifying group. As a result, the Three Lions had gone over 18 months without playing competitive football. With Euro 1996 approaching, the FA initiated a rehearsal tournament, which would be organized and sponsored by Umbro.


    "Yes," Humphreys nodded. "We¡¯ll be hosting Sweden, Japan, and the reigning world champions, Brazil. That¡¯s why I wanted to personally propose the use of Maine Road as one of the venues."


    Richard leaned back slightly, processing the information. The idea of Maine Road being showcased on an international stage wasn¡¯t something he had expected to hear today.


    "Interesting," he said thoughtfully. "Maine Road hasn¡¯t hosted a match of that scale in a while."


    "Exactly," Humphreys replied. "This is more than just a friendly tournament¡ªit¡¯s a warm-up for Euro ¡¯96. Stadium logistics, crowd control, broadcasting¡ªit¡¯s all under the microscope. And having a historic venue like Maine Road on the list would make a strong statement."


    However, it wasn¡¯t Richard who rejected the proposal, but Miss Heysen instead.


    "Logistically, it¡¯s feasible," she said. "But we¡¯ll need to coordinate early with Arup Construction for the Kippax stand, and the club calendar will need to be reviewed."


    "Ah, yes... the Kippax stand," Richard muttered, slapping his forehead.


    When Richard took Humphreys to inspect the Kippax stands, he was shocked.


    "What? Why isn¡¯t it finished?" Humphreys asked, his voice filled with disbelief.


    The legendary Kippax Street Terrace, once a source of incredible energy for City, was now in disrepair.


    Richard sighed helplessly.


    "Alan Ball and Francis Lee redirected funds from the Kippax project into transfers, leaving half of the stand unfinished. That¡¯s why I made it a priority last year. Now, next season, we can expect the Kippax to finally be standing once again."


    Humphreys was at a loss for words. He placed a hand on Richard¡¯s shoulder, his sympathy evident.


    In the end, no deal was made.


    Even if they had agreed, the FA would not have allowed it.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


    The day before the match against Stockport, a sharp knock echoed on his office door.


    "Come in," Richard called, looking up from the stack of papers on his desk.


    The door creaked open, and Marina stepped inside, holding a folder in her hands. She closed the door quietly behind her and moved forward.


    "I¡¯ve already compiled the list of possible striker to add to the squad, based on what we need," she said, her voice steady but carrying an undertone of professionalism.


    Richard didn¡¯t immediately respond. Instead, he motioned for her to set the folder down on the desk. He adjusted his posture, leaning back in his chair, and raised an eyebrow.


    "Has O¡¯Neill already given his green light on this?"


    "No, not yet. I mean... isn¡¯t it better for you to take a look at it first, before taking it to the current manager?"


    The silence in the room grew tense as Richard suddenly slammed the folder shut.


    "Miss Marina, that was dangerous, though. You know that?" Richard said, his voice cool but carrying a weight of seriousness.


    Marina, unflinching, met his gaze. "I understand. But I thought it would be more efficient this way. And I mean to secure players quickly, isn¡¯t it better¡ª"


    "No, no, no," Richard quickly interrupted before she could continue.


    While it was previously common in English football for the manager to negotiate transfer deals and the personal contracts of prospective signings, sometimes a chief scout¡ªoften linked to the manager¡ªwould handle some of the duties.


    As a result, the role of transfers lacked a clear structure, and the areas of responsibility still varied from club to club. This is precisely why he launched the new Director of Football role in the first place.


    "Accountability is key," Richard stated.


    As City moves forward, many transfer decisions will be handled by the new Director of Football. However, the head coach, the one picking the team, may not always get the first name on their wish list.


    And if a signing doesn¡¯t work out, it inevitably triggers a chicken-and-egg dilemma: Was the failure because the player wasn¡¯t the right fit for the manager, or was the manager unsuccessful in getting the best out of the player?


    And then what?


    With some DoFs staying well out of the spotlight, the manager is often left to respond to media questions about transfers and long-term strategy ("the project").


    "That¡¯s why I emphasized collaboration to you in the first place," Richard explained.


    Clarity and communication are key, and that¡¯s why Richard¡¯s approach is centered on collaboration ¡ª ensuring all parties share these responsibilities. Later, once Marina becomes more skilled in her role, he expects her to take a more active part in sharing the club¡¯s vision with the media and supporters.


    Marina nodded, sensing the weight of his words. "I¡¯ll make sure to be more cautious next time."


    After hearing this, Richard nodded and soon asked Miss Heysen to fetch O¡¯Neill, who was on the training pitch.


    Once he joined, the three of them began to review each player.


    Dion Dublin (Coventry City) ¨C Age: 26


    Robbie Fowler (Liverpool) ¨C Age: 19


    Kevin Phillips (Sunderland) ¨C Age: 21


    Nicky Barmby (Tottenham Hotspur) ¨C Age: 21


    Brian Deane (Sheffield United) ¨C Age: 27 Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Marek Pan¨¢k (Sigma Olomouc) ¨C Age: 23


    Marius L?c?tu? (Steaua Bucharest) ¨C Age: 31


    Marek Kuli? (Olympia Hradec Kr¨¢lov¨¦) ¨C Age: 23


    Andriy Shevchenko (Dynamo-2 Kyiv) ¨C Age: 18


    "..."


    What else could Richard say?


    Even a fool would know who to choose from this list.

 Chapter 162: End of Pre-season

    Chapter 162: End of Pre-seasonIn 1986, Shevchenko failed a dribbling test for admission to a specialist sports school in Kyiv. However, he caught the eye of a Dynamo Kyiv scout while playing in a youth tournament and was subsequently brought into the club.


    Eight years later, he made his Vyshcha Liha debut for Dynamo Kyiv in an away game against Shakhtar Donetsk.


    It was actually his second appearance for the senior squad.


    In his impressive debut the previous year, he scored his first goal against Krystal Chortkiv in a 1¨C1 home draw.


    Despite delivering a strong performance and scoring, he was surprisingly sidelined and didn¡¯t play again until a year later.


    This likely left Shevchenko dissatisfied and created an opportunity for another club to lure him away from Dynamo.


    That was Richard¡¯s personal analysis of the situation at the time.


    Shevchenko, who was about to turn 19 in September, became a target after Richard, Marina, and O¡¯Neill reviewed a VHS tape of his performance. A total of ¡ê500,000 was allocated to sign the striker.


    Richard wasn¡¯t interested in the other listed strikers. For him, this was the opportunity. Manchester City would have needed to secure a work permit for Andriy Shevchenko, as Ukraine was not a member of the European Union. However, thanks to Wiseman¡¯s revision of the non-EU player rules, the club could wisely use its final available quota.


    So, it had to be Shevchenko.


    Another notable breakthrough came for Manchester City¡¯s U17 squad, where Marina Granovskaia identified 16-year-old Craig Bellamy and 17-year-old David Trezeguet from Platense as the best choices for the current youth setup.


    Richard gave his green light for both Shevchenko, Craig Bellamy and Trezeguet.


    The next 24 hours were eventful, beginning with the players gathering at the Stockport Hotel near Edgeley Park.


    Richard, who rarely traveled with the team, joined them on the bus¡ªan experience that brought back memories of his own playing days. However, soon after, they parted ways. While the team was focused on their friendly match, Richard stayed behind at the hotel restaurant, quietly waiting for someone.


    City performance department is expanding.


    First came the medical, which had already been completed with the recruitment of Dave Fevre, who now serves as City¡¯s head physiotherapist.


    Second is the strength and conditioning department, which he failed with in the strength as he failed to recruit Gian Piero Ventrone, leaving him with no choice but to bet on the conditioning alone to lead the City squad next season.


    "It¡¯s him," Richard said suddenly, making Fevre, who was beside him, quickly turn around.


    There, Andreas Schlumberger appeared wearing casual clothes instead of his training jacket. Currently, he was still a part-time coach at FC Nuremberg and relatively new to his role.


    Mr. Schlumberger looked up, his face lighting up with recognition. He then shook both hands firmly.


    "Dave, great to finally meet you in person."


    Because Richard had already informed him that in the future he would be working together with Dave Fevre.


    "The pleasure¡¯s mine."


    Richard clapped him on the back. "I have no doubt you¡¯ll make an impact wherever you go."


    Schlumberger had recently returned from a month-long training program in the United States, where he gained valuable insights into cutting-edge American fitness technology. When it comes to sports science, the U.S. currently leads the world.


    Determined to apply what he had learned, he planned to integrate this advanced technology into FC Nuremberg¡¯s existing physical training program. But he knew that technology alone wouldn¡¯t be enough.


    That¡¯s why, a month later, he traveled to Juventus¡¯ Stadio delle Alpi¡ªto observe firsthand how top Italian fitness coaches designed and implemented their elite training systems.


    It was during Gian Piero Ventrone¡¯s seminar that the two crossed paths.


    Recognizing him was easy for Richard, who had witnessed firsthand how Liverpool came to dominate modern football in the late 2020s.


    Seizing the opportunity, Richard invited the young coach, luring him with the eye-catching title Head of Conditioning and the promise of unlimited support for everything he would need.


    "Physical training is a distinct area of expertise that will help City players train more effectively, combining structured development with the right sports equipment," began Schlumberger, offering a broader overview of his role during a recent conversation with Richard and Fevre.


    "I want to optimize the rehabilitation process and definitely need the cooperation of the physios during the recovery phases. So I would say these are my main responsibilities. Since this role is still very new and vaguely defined, I will be providing a new perspective based on my own experiences over time."


    The concepts of rehabilitation, conditioning, and recovery are still at a very early stage, so Richard wanted Schlumberger¡¯s role to sit between those of the fitness team, led by O¡¯Neill, and the head of physio, Dave Fevre.


    Schlumberger would act as a bridge between the performance and medical/rehab departments¡ªan essential role in response to the growing physical demands being placed on players.


    Richard was also mindful of the fact that the fixture calendar over the coming seasons was likely to look very different from previous years. While City once had a bloated squad of nearly thirty players, they now only had 24 following recent cuts.


    "Why are you interested in this kind of thing?" Fevre asked, curious.


    For him, it was personal¡ªhis child was currently living with diabetes, so he needed the money that would allow him to work in multiple places, which eventually led him into the world of sports health. But what about Schlumberger himself?


    Schlumberger smiled ruefully. "I had a bad rehabilitation experience, which forced me to end my football career. That became a major motivation for me to learn more about it and to try to influence how injured players can be rehabilitated optimally during my professional career."


    Ah, so this was a personal experience.


    Both Richard and Fevre nodded, especially Richard, who could empathize with him.


    After discussing salary, perks, and the support he would need, everything was finalized just as the match between Stockport and Manchester City ended with a 1-0 win for Manchester City.


    While City and current owner Richard Maddox were very busy, English football was also entering the transfer season, with clubs beginning to make moves in the transfer market.


    A legal challenge in the European Court of Human Rights by Belgian midfielder Jean-Marc Bosman granted out-of-contract players¡ªthose whose contracts had expired with their clubs¡ªthe right to become free agents and move to other teams without a transfer fee.


    Some clubs were worried, as there was widespread controversy following the announcement. Many feared they would lose expensively signed players for nothing. However, others were excited, and many began to headhunt stars from across Europe. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The first to make a move was Newcastle United, signing French winger David Ginola from Paris Saint-Germain for ¡ê2.5 million.


    Following Newcastle¡¯s example, several smaller clubs jumped into action.


    Sheffield Wednesday signed Belgian midfielder Marc Degryse from Anderlecht for ¡ê1.5 million.


    Queens Park Rangers brought in Australia national team captain Ned Zelic from Borussia Dortmund for ¡ê1.25 million.


    Next came a surprising move: Andrea Silenzi became the first Italian to play for a Premier League club when he joined Nottingham Forest in a ¡ê1.8 million deal from Torino.


    Just as everyone thought foreign players would dominate the headlines of this transfer window, English football was shaken when Arsenal signed England captain David Platt from Sampdoria for ¡ê4.75 million¡ªmaking Platt the world¡¯s most expensive player in terms of total career transfer fees, which had now exceeded ¡ê22 million.


    Striker Les Ferdinand also made a high-profile move, joining Newcastle from Queens Park Rangers for a club-record fee of ¡ê6 million.


    Meanwhile, England midfielder Paul Gascoigne returned to Britain after three years with Lazio in Italy, completing a ¡ê4.3 million move to Scottish champions Rangers.


    The next major story wasn¡¯t from the transfer market.


    Eric Cantona, who had caused controversy with his infamous kung fu kick toward a fan in the stands following racist remarks, initially announced his intention to leave English football. However, Manchester United refused to terminate his contract. After a meeting with Alex Ferguson, Cantona reversed his decision and announced that he would stay with Manchester United.


    Five days after the match against Stockport¡ªand on the same day City continued their pre-season against Wolves¡ªManchester City officially announced their final signing of the season: Andriy Shevchenko from Dynamo-2 Kyiv, leaving all City fans speechless.


    Another 18-year-old players?


    What the hell is this?


    Perhaps only Neil Lennon (24), Jens Lehmann (25), Henrik Larsson (23), and Jackie McNamara (21) were already in their twenties.


    The rest were mostly below twenties!


    The fans were anxious, and the media was also restless. After the City vs. Wolves match, they began searching for people they could ask about it.


    Fortunately, after the match, thanks to Richard joining the club¡¯s entourage personally, the situation was more tightly controlled.


    External security, hired by the Maddox group as bodyguards for Richard, assumed the reporters were there because of him. They cleared everyone without hesitation, leaving the media to watch the City players and staff from a distance.


    The last pre-season match for City was against Burnley. However, O¡¯Neill and his staff weren¡¯t so fortunate. Richard didn¡¯t join them this time, which led to a loosening of security.


    As soon as the official press conference ended and they were heading to their bus, they were immediately surrounded by fans and the media.


    The first question asked left O¡¯Neill and the staff stunned.


    "Martin, Martin, tell us¡ªwhat is City¡¯s strategy for next season? Is it about following Manchester United¡¯s approach of relying on young players?"


    The media huddled in close, microphones thrust forward, eyes eagerly waiting for an answer.

 Chapter 163: Season Targets and Squad Hierarchy

    Chapter 163: Season Targets and Squad HierarchyEveryone know that Alex Ferguson had sold experienced players Paul Ince, Mark Hughes and Andrei Kanchelskis before the start of the season, and not made any major signings. Instead, he had drafted in young players like Nicky Butt, David Beckham, Paul Scholes and the Neville brothers, Gary and Phil.


    Reporter:


    "Martin, Martin, tell us¡ªwhat is City¡¯s strategy for next season? Is it about following Manchester United¡¯s approach of relying on young players?"


    Martin O¡¯Neill:


    "Look, I¡¯ve got great respect for what United have done with their young lads¡ªreally, I do. But let¡¯s be honest¡ªUnited didn¡¯t make any major signings that summer. They sold senior players and went all-in on their academy. That¡¯s their route, and fair play to them, it worked. But that¡¯s not what we¡¯re doing."


    Reporter:


    "Is that shift in strategy because the club demolished the youth academy? Sixteen players brought in at once¡ªis that an admission that City regrets shutting down its youth development setup?"


    O¡¯Neill (raising his eyebrows):


    "Who said we demolished anything? We restructured it. Let¡¯s be clear on that.There¡¯s been a lot of speculation flying around, but Manchester City will still be competing in youth competitions next season¡ªjust under a different structure and setup. The club made a decision to adapt, not abandon. What you¡¯re seeing now is investment in talent, both local and international, to complement that restructuring. And I stand by that approach."


    He glanced at his watch, gave a small nod, and concluded:


    "Alright, thank you for your time, everyone. I¡¯ve got a session to get to."


    With preseason wrapped up, the squad entered a focused period of closed-door training in preparation for the opening match of the season.


    The next day, Richard Summons O¡¯Neill to set targets and bonus structure.


    The sun filtered through the blinds of the CEO floor as Richard, the club¡¯s chairman, leaned back in his leather chair. Across from him sat Martin O¡¯Neill, still in his training gear, a bottle of water in hand and a clipboard resting beside him.


    "Last season, we proved people wrong," Richard said¡ªthen paused. "No. You proved people wrong."


    It wasn¡¯t just a compliment. It was a fact. Richard let his words hang in the air, his voice steady, his expression unreadable.


    City had been written off during the first half of the previous season due to inconsistent performances. But from March to May, their winning streak had been remarkable¡ªtransformative, even.


    "Automatic promotion. That¡¯s the goal. That¡¯s the standard, Martin," Richard continued. "And we don¡¯t just stop there. The League Cup. The FA Cup. Every match we play, we compete."


    O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t flinch. He waited for Richard to finish.


    "Domestic cups¡ªeither the FA Cup or League Cup¡ªI want at least a quarter-final run in one of them. Ideally, a final appearance. These are key for the board, and frankly, the fans need something to believe in for next season. Something that says we belong in the top flight."


    Richard slid a folder across the desk. "If we qualify, great. That¡¯s our stretch target. The further we go, the bigger the bonuses next season¡ªfor players and staff. Please take a look. Bonuses are tied directly to performance. For promotion, you and your staff get a 20% performance bonus. Reach a cup quarter-final¡ª15%. Win a domestic cup? That¡¯s another 7.5% on top."


    "And the players?" O¡¯Neill asked.


    "There¡¯s a similar scheme¡ªtiered bonuses. It¡¯s all in the folder. I¡¯ve kept it clean and performance-based. You get us the results, everyone benefits."


    O¡¯Neill opened the folder, skimmed through the contents, then gave a small nod of approval before closing it.


    "If we don¡¯t achieve these targets," Richard said quietly, "we¡¯ll have to reassess a lot of things¡ªyou know what I mean, right?"


    O¡¯Neill paused slightly, then replied, "Understood."


    The two men shook hands¡ªfirm, formal, and filled with unspoken urgency. The season was no longer a concept¡ªit was here, and expectations were set.


    "That¡¯s everything. You can go now," Richard said.


    This wasn¡¯t about hoping for a strong season. This was about demanding one.


    After concluding his meeting with O¡¯Neill, Richard wrapped up his day with one final engagement¡ªan all-hands gathering of Manchester City¡¯s upper management, staff, and club employees.


    It was the club¡¯s annual grand meeting, traditionally held before the start of each new season.


    This year¡¯s agenda carried particular weight.


    Richard stood at the front of the auditorium, flanked by key figures from the board: Miss Heyssen, the newly appointed CEO; Marina Granovskaia, unveiled as the new Director of Football; and the club¡¯s legal team, Frank Shepherd and Gordon Barry.


    Among the key announcements was the official introduction of the Director of Football position¡ªa role designed to strengthen the club¡¯s long-term footballing strategy and align all sporting departments under a unified vision.


    In addition, the meeting marked the launch of the new High Performance Division, a cross-functional unit responsible for overseeing sports science, data analytics, player conditioning, and injury prevention.


    Two newly formed departments¡ªPhysiotherapy and Recovery¡ªwere formally introduced, with their respective leads presenting fresh methodologies and expectations under the revamped structure.


    "This isn¡¯t just about preparing for the season," Richard said. "It¡¯s about raising the bar across every level of this club."


    Applause followed. While there was still some skepticism among the staff about these unfamiliar roles and changes, the message was clear: Richard was prepared. Manchester City was evolving¡ªand every person in that room had a part to play in its future.


    Same time ¡ª Manchester City Training Ground, Locker Room


    While Richard addressed the boardroom, a different kind of atmosphere lingered in the players¡¯ locker room.


    The squad was already murmuring about the new season. Some lounged in their kits, others leaned against lockers or sat with boots half-tied. The usual banter was subdued, replaced by quiet nods and the occasional raised eyebrow.


    Before training began, O¡¯Neill had already assembled his squad for a short, first full-team briefing ahead of the upcoming season.


    He took his time, letting the weight of the moment settle. His eyes moved across the room, taking in each player¡ªthe veterans, the rising stars, the fresh signings.


    Then, finally, he spoke.


    His message:


    "We fought our way up. We played our football. We showed we belong."


    ¡¯Too inexperienced. Too old. Not enough depth.¡¯


    That¡¯s what the media said about Manchester City last season¡ªespecially before the Christmas break. Yet after Christmas, they had defied every expectation.


    "This season? We do more than belong." He paused for a moment, then sharpened his tone.


    "We win this league. No playoffs. No drama. We go up as champions."


    A murmur rippled through the squad. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Some players nodded, confidence already rooted in them. Others sat up straighter, absorbing the message. The new signings¡ªespecially¡ªwere listening closely. They were ready.


    Even Shevchenko, who had just arrived that morning for his first training session, nodded in understanding. His English wasn¡¯t perfect, but he recognized the words "win the league" and "go up as champions." That was enough.


    No one was surprised. They expected this.


    Confidence remained high¡ªundented by pressure. They had just swept the pre-season without conceding a single goal. In their minds, they weren¡¯t just contenders. They were a team built to win it outright.


    "Automatic promotion. That¡¯s the goal. That¡¯s the standard," O¡¯Neill declared.


    Everyone thought the briefing was over¡ªbut then O¡¯Neill took a step forward, his voice unwavering.


    "And we don¡¯t just stop there."


    His gaze shifted to the experienced trio: Ronaldo, Cafu, and Roberto Carlos.


    "The League Cup. The FA Cup. Every match we play, we compete this time."


    For that to happen, O¡¯Neill knew it wasn¡¯t just about the players¡ªit was about the entire support system behind them. He turned slightly and motioned to the two men standing by the side of the room.


    "I want you all to meet two people you¡¯ll be seeing a lot of this season."


    He stepped aside.


    "First, Dave Fevre. He¡¯s our new Head of Physiotherapy. Many of you may not know him yet, but let me be clear¡ªhe¡¯s no novice. He¡¯s worked extensively with Wigan Rugby in the Premier League setup. So don¡¯t underestimate what he brings to the table."


    He turned to the man standing next to Fevre.


    "And next to him¡ªDr. Andreas Schlumberger, our new Head of Recovery. He¡¯ll be working closely with Dave and the coaching staff to optimize everything from matchday recovery protocols to individual injury prevention."


    A few players gave polite nods; the veterans already recognized the name.


    O¡¯Neill continued.


    "I also want to formally introduce the rest of the team behind the team."


    One by one, he named them¡ªhis assistant manager, coaches, and even support staff. Jimmy Rouse¡ªthe kit manager¡ªwas introduced as well.


    "Make sure you know him well. You¡¯ll be seeing him more than your own families over the next ten months."


    The next step was to establish the new hierarchy.


    After the previous captain¡¯s move to Tottenham, O¡¯Neill had taken time to carefully consider the right person to lead City into the new season. He turned to the whiteboard, where the full squad list was already written out. He picked up a marker and underlined three words at the top:


    Captain. Vice-Captain.


    Then, he turned back to the squad.


    "You earn your place in this team. Nothing is given. But these are the players who will set the standard¡ªthe ones who lead by example, who drive us forward."


    He pointed to the board.


    Captain: Cafu


    Vocal. Respected. Tough. He inspired his teammates not just through words, but through actions. When the team was trailing, he never wavered¡ªconstantly charging up and down the right flank. He wasn¡¯t just a solid right-back¡ªhe was a tone-setter in every match.


    "Cafu is our captain," O¡¯Neill said firmly. "He¡¯s the voice on the pitch. Listen to him. When things get tough, he¡¯s the one who¡¯ll keep us together."


    Vice-Captain: Roberto Carlos.


    Just like Cafu, Roberto would anchor the left flank. Relentless. Consistent. A player O¡¯Neill trusted completely.


    "Roberto is our vice-captain," O¡¯Neill continued. "Not just because of his experience, but because he leads by example. He drives the team forward every single game."


    "Any questions?"


    "..."


    "Good. Now¡ª"


    Next is the most important.


    The starting lineup.


    O¡¯Neill tapped the marker against the board. "Let me remind you first," he began, his tone firm.


    "The starting lineup is more than just names on a sheet. It¡¯s about who earns their place, who shows up when it matters, and who sets the example every single day. So, don¡¯t think that just because your name¡¯s on this list, it means you¡¯re guaranteed to stay there until the end of the season. You earn your spot every day. Understand?"


    "Yes, coach!" the players responded in unison with determination.


    "Good," O¡¯Neill replied, underlining the next few words with precision.


    "Goalkeeper: Jens Lehmann." He glanced up, making eye contact with the German keeper, whose eyes widened in surprise.


    To be honest, O¡¯Neill had initially favored Richard Wright, as he had personally requested him from Richard. But after watching the pre-season and every training sessions, he changed his mind.


    This was the first time in his entire coaching career that he had seen such a killjoy¡ªa truly unapproachable and withdrawn person, even during training sessions.


    While the other players often gathered, joked around, and chatted, Lehmann could always be found under the goalposts, getting back up again and again, no matter how many times he fell.


    For him, who valued discipline and consistency above all, this was the first time he had encountered someone so difficult to read, yet whose dedication was written all over his actions. For now, Lehmann had earned his trust. Let¡¯s see how the season unfolds.


    After that, he announced the full starting lineup:


    Goalkeeper: Jens Lehmann


    Right Back: Cafu


    Center Back: Marco Materazzi


    Center Back: William Gallas


    Left Back: Roberto Carlos


    Right Midfielder: Gianluca Zambrotta


    Central Midfielder: Mark van Bommel


    Central Midfielder: Neil Lennon


    Left Midfielder: Jackie McNamara


    Centre Forward: Ronaldo


    Centre Forward: Henrik Larsson

 Chapter 164: The Eve of the Match

    Chapter 164: The Eve of the MatchWhat status does football hold in Britain? Which sport truly captures the nation¡¯s heart?


    First: football.


    Second: football.


    Third: still football.


    Football isn¡¯t just a pastime here¡ªit¡¯s a cultural force. It has evolved into a massive industry, and any conversation about the sport is incomplete without acknowledging its deep connection to the media.


    The two are inseparable. Football and media feed off each other, and it¡¯s no exaggeration to say that the media has the power to shape¡ªor shatter¡ªa club¡¯s public image in an instant.


    That¡¯s why Richard made it clear to O¡¯Neill and the entire City leadership team: they had to be careful¡ªespecially the players. One careless moment could become tomorrow¡¯s headline.


    Everyone knows the British media is often considered the most unreliable in all of Europe¡ªif not the world. Sensationalism sells, and tabloids won¡¯t hesitate to fabricate stories or invade personal lives if it means grabbing attention.


    Richard, fully aware of the media¡¯s power, understood the importance of using it strategically to raise Manchester City¡¯s profile.


    For example, the rise of the Busby Babes at Manchester United coincided with the advent of televised football in countless British homes¡ªan era-defining moment that helped the club build a massive and loyal fanbase. Had another team captured the spotlight during that time, the landscape of English football today might look very different.


    With that, Richard, Miss Heysen, and Marina Granovskaia held a brief meeting to strategize on increasing the club¡¯s visibility and public appeal, which was a key priority.


    The first step was to announce the reopening of the Kippax Stand, which had been out of operation for almost two years.


    Draped in blue and white, the stand was unveiled before an audience of press, club staff, select fans, and Richard¡¯s closest circle¡ªfamily and friends¡ªwho had gathered for the special occasion. With a proud smile, Richard stepped to center stage. As the cameras flashed, he cut the giant ribbon, and the crowd erupted into applause.


    This ribbon-cutting ceremony marked not just the physical reopening of the stand, but also symbolically, the beginning of a new era for the club.


    The media reaction to the reopening of the Kippax Stand was largely positive¡ªtinged with curiosity, sentiment, and a touch of skepticism.


    Local outlets praised the move as a "return to tradition," highlighting the Kippax Stand¡¯s historical significance as a former stronghold of loyal City supporters.


    Headlines like "City Brings Back the Heart of Maine Road" and "Kippax Reawakens with a New Vision" reflected the nostalgia-laced excitement.


    Of course, not all coverage was positive¡ªThe Sun ran stories with headlines like "New Paint, Same Struggles?" while The Guardian, in a more neutral tone, noted: "City rebuilds stands and expectations¡ªnow it¡¯s time for results."


    Manchester City chose not to respond to any of the coverage.


    On the eve of the First Division season opener, City officials finally organized a press conference.


    This was the second major step after their brainstorming session¡ªan effective way to leverage media attention and raise the club¡¯s profile ahead of the new season.


    Richard had instructed O¡¯Neill to ensure the team made a bold impression¡ªthough later, his approach was challenged by Miss Heysen and Marina, who were definitely more skilled than him in marketing and public relations.


    Unlike the previous season¡¯s press conference, this time the room was packed with more than a dozen reporters¡ªlocal journalists and national media outlets alike. Though no international reporters had shown up yet, even The Sun¡ªwhich had previously clashed with City after being banned from Maine Road¡ªsent a journalist to cover the event.


    But the attention wasn¡¯t on City¡¯s title ambitions.


    It was all because of City¡¯s first fixture.


    Brentford.


    In the previous season, City had snatched the Second Division title from Brentford at the very last moment¡ªsecuring automatic promotion and leaving Brentford to fight their way up through the playoffs.


    Naturally, tensions lingered.


    And Brentford wanted revenge.


    This is why Miss Heysen and Marina agreed they had to seize this moment¡ªan ideal opportunity to launch an effective marketing campaign.


    Though there were representatives from The Mirror and The Daily Mail, they were all interns¡ªsitting stiffly, like obedient children. Eventually, it was the seasoned The Sun reporter who opened the Pandora¡¯s box, just as a veteran would.


    "Many fans still remember last season¡¯s clash with Brentford, especially the late penalty drama. Some say this opener is about revenge. Would you call this a grudge match?"


    O¡¯Neill responded, "We don¡¯t see it as a grudge match. Every game is an opportunity¡ªthis one just happens to be the first of the season. What happened last year stays in the past. Our focus now is on starting strong and showing what we¡¯ve built over the summer."


    "Brentford¡¯s squad has strengthened, and they¡¯ve brought in Paul Davis from Arsenal. How do you plan to contain him?"


    "Paul Davis is a quality player and a great addition for them. But we¡¯re not planning our match around one man. We respect Brentford as a team, and we¡¯ve prepared accordingly."


    "What are City¡¯s objectives for the upcoming season? The club has spent nearly five million pounds in the transfer market¡ªmaking it one of the biggest spenders in the First Division this summer."


    With a composed expression, O¡¯Neill responded calmly, "We¡¯re a young team, and many of our players still need time and experience to grow. So our target this season is simple and realistic: to stay in the First Division."


    A few reporters exchanged puzzled glances.


    The Sun journalist leaned forward, eyes gleaming.


    "So City has spent nearly five million pounds just to avoid relegation? If that¡¯s the case, why offload so many key players¡ªlike Sol Campbell, your captain from last season? Does this mean the club has lost confidence in its current squad?"


    O¡¯Neill offered a faint smile¡ªhe had seen this coming.


    "It¡¯s quite straightforward," he said. "Campbell wanted to leave, and as a club that values the wishes and well-being of our players, we weren¡¯t going to stand in his way. For now, City¡¯s goal is to grow and develop first. Hopefully, when our players mature next year, we can begin to challenge for the League." sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The reporters soon lost interest.


    While City had caused a bit of a stir in the summer transfer market, most of their spending had gone toward young players¡ªand others who also lacked experience in top-flight leagues.


    Now, hearing that the club¡¯s only ambition was to survive the season, the buzz quickly faded. To most of the journalists, City was¡ªat best¡ªa source of mild amusement, not a serious story.


    "Could you share your thoughts on your players, Cafu and Roberto Carlos?" one reporter asked. "There are rumors that AS Roma is interested in Cafu, and reports suggest Inter Milan have their eyes on Roberto Carlos as well."


    O¡¯Neill shook his head with a faint smile.


    "I won¡¯t comment on speculation," he said firmly. "Here, we have people who handle those matters, and they¡¯re the ones who deal with any official inquiries. For now, both Cafu and Roberto are fully focused on the season ahead."


    O¡¯Neill engaged with the reporters effortlessly, fielding their questions with ease and even bantering with them. Since no defamatory claims had led to any legal issues, he remained indifferent to the speculative insinuations that passed for journalism.


    Eventually, the reporters gave up on asking about City player rumors, realizing O¡¯Neill had no intention of revealing any details.


    True to form, the following day, tabloids and newspapers prominently featured O¡¯Neill¡¯s image alongside the City logo. Yet, most of the headlines focused on City¡¯s apparent lack of ambition, while the rest revolved around the drama surrounding the City vs. Brentford match.


    The Daily Mirror blared: [...City Spends Big, But Is Survival the Only Goal?...]


    The Sun followed suit with a bold headline: [...¡ê5 Million, But Just to Survive? City¡¯s Lack of Ambition Exposed...]


    It wasn¡¯t long before the skepticism was plastered across every front page.


    Headlines such as "¡ê5 Million, But Just to Stay in the First Division? City¡¯s Lack of Courage" became the dominant narrative.


    Despite the attention-grabbing headlines, Richard quickly realized that the news about City only lasted for about three days, as the stories were soon overshadowed by other headlines¡ªmostly revolving around Premier League clubs.


    Richard sighed at this.


    In Britain, specialized sports media are scarce, and even when they do exist, they tend to be small, underdeveloped outlets. Most media are general newspapers with a dedicated sports section.


    As a result, not every football event makes the headlines¡ªonly the stories that catch the eye of the paparazzi. So, rather than focusing on City, most media were actually more interested in Richard himself¡ªor more precisely, in the newly opened St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel in London.


    "Congratulations, Richard."


    That evening, the ballroom of the St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel in London was alive with flashing lights and an electric atmosphere.


    As one of the city¡¯s most historically significant venues¡ªnow owned by a local for the first time¡ªthere was a palpable sense of curiosity about the night¡¯s events.


    Richard was lounging on the sofa, sipping his orange juice and soaking in the ambiance when a greeting suddenly snapped his attention to the side. He looked toward the person approaching, surprised.


    "I thought you weren¡¯t coming," Richard said, standing up immediately and shaking hands with the Russian heavyweight, Roman Abramovich.


    "Actually, I was too busy to come, but you know..." Abramovich sighed, then pointed in the direction where Richard could see Marina Granovskaia and her sister engaged in conversation.


    Richard was surprised by this. He had never known this guy had this side to him.


    ¡¯Wait a minute... don¡¯t tell me she was actually...?!¡¯


    "This is a good hotel," suddenly said Abramovich, interrupting Richard¡¯s thoughts.


    He had already arrived at the St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel London earlier that morning. As he walked through the halls, he marveled at the perfect blend of Victorian Gothic elegance and luxury. He was pleasantly surprised by how the hotel¡¯s historical charm seamlessly merged with contemporary comforts.


    The dramatic red-brick fa?ade, with its intricate Gothic details, immediately stood out, while the grand interiors were a testament to the lavish design of Victorian-era elements. Not to mention the ornate arches, towering spires, and beautifully crafted stonework.


    "Of course, it¡¯s a good hotel," Richard said, clearly proud of it.


    After all, he didn¡¯t spare any expense, investing 4 million pounds just to renovate the building and replace all the hotel furnishings with new, high-quality ones.


    The entire hotel industry¡ªespecially the luxury segment¡ªremains vast, and numerous luxury hotel brands are expected to enter the London market in the coming years.


    If one were to rank the top luxury hotels in London, it would quickly become clear that those leading the list are typically housed in classic British buildings steeped in history. These hotels are consistently the most popular among wealthy travelers.


    And it¡¯s no surprise¡ªguests who can afford luxury accommodations often seek to immerse themselves in the classical British aristocratic experience when visiting London.


    Modern hotels exist everywhere, but living like an aristocrat? Like in the colonial days?


    ¡¯I¡¯m afraid that kind of aristocratic VIP experience is simply irresistible¡ªeven for the ultra-rich.¡¯


    In the end, luxury is all about storytelling.


    Speaking of stories, Harry Potter was quietly in its final stages of editing under the careful eye of Miss Joanne.


    When she finally said the manuscript was ready, Richard had already been considering the idea of acquiring a publishing house¡ªjust to ensure the release would go exactly as envisioned.


    ¡¯Or maybe,¡¯ he thought to himself, ¡¯I should start buying one now.¡¯


    Nonetheless, whether offering an aristocratic VIP experience or giving guests a glimpse of the next literary phenomenon, Richard knew that staying at his St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel wasn¡¯t just about luxury¡ªit was about enjoying an authentic taste of British nobility and living the dream.

 Chapter 165: You must crush them!

    Chapter 165: You must crush them!August 12th, 3 PM ¡ª Griffin Park Stadium.


    The stadium was packed to capacity, the stands vibrating with energy as City¡¯s team anthem echoed through the air.


    ???? "She wore! She wore! She wore a sky blue ribbon~"


    "She wore a sky blue ribbon in the merry month of August~"


    "And when I asked her why she wore the ribbon~"


    "She said she wore the ribbon to see City on their way~" ????


    However, there was no way the Brentford fans would let the Blues fans outshine them in this matter. After all, this was their turf, their stadium and they weren¡¯t about to let City fans take over the chant.


    ???? "Talk about Pele, talk about Cruyff, talk about Beckenbauer...


    But talk about Batesy, that¡¯s a different matter - he¡¯s best by far.


    Heeeeee¡¯s Batesy, Batesy, Jamie, Jamie Batesy,


    He¡¯s Jamie Batesy!" ????


    The back-and-forth exchange of chants filled the air, creating a cacophony of sound.


    For City fans, after the emotional rollercoaster of last season in the Second Division, this was more than just a match¡ªit was the beginning of a new Chapter.


    A season of hope.


    It was a new beginning full of hope for the Blues as they prepared for their campaign in the Nationwide First Division, knowing that the Nirvana that is the Premiership was now just one league away.


    Backstage, City¡¯s players stood in their dressing room¡ªfocused, silent, and ready for battle.


    The tactical board remained blank. O¡¯Neill, dressed in a sharp suit with the top buttons casually undone, stood with his hands in his pockets, calmly observing his team. He had already said all that needed to be said during training.


    Today, O¡¯Neill chose not to focus on game specifics. Instead, he simply asked how each player felt physically¡ªno overcomplicated briefings.


    "I¡¯ve drilled the strategies into you enough during training," he began. "There¡¯s no need to repeat them now. Just play the way you¡¯ve trained, stick to the plan, stay sharp¡ªand stay hungry. That will be enough."


    He paused, then added with quiet intensity. "But before we walk out there... there¡¯s one more thing I want to say."


    His gaze swept across each player¡¯s face as he intently declared, "I believe in you all, even if it means putting my life in your hands. Ask me a hundred times, and I will respond a hundred times: you are the best! However, like me, you and this club, with over a century of history, possess nothing! As you exit this room and step onto the pitch¡ª"


    Suddenly, his phone rang, breaking the moment.


    O¡¯Neill reached into his pocket, intending to silence it, but as his eyes flicked to the caller ID, he paused.


    The call quickly ended.


    A second later, a message popped up:


    [...Meet me outside. NOW!...]


    "..."


    It seemed something had happened.


    "Excuse me, lads," he said, stepping aside and still holding the phone.


    After he opened the door, the first thing that greeted him was Richard¡¯s darkened expression, which immediately took him by surprise.


    "Martin," Richard said, his voice low and serious, gesturing toward the hallway.


    O¡¯Neill nodded, signaling that he understood.


    He stepped out of the locker room, closing the door softly behind him, and followed Richard down the narrow corridor.


    When they came to a halt, Richard turned and met O¡¯Neill¡¯s gaze.


    "What¡¯s going on, Richard?" O¡¯Neill asked.


    Richard had always been calm, collected, but now... there was something different in the air.


    "Martin!" Richard¡¯s voice cracked with fury, cutting through the air like a knife. His anger was palpable, and the sudden shift in his demeanor took O¡¯Nell by surprise.


    "W-What¡¯s the matter?"


    "Can we win this match?"


    "Ermmm..." O¡¯Neill swallowed hard.


    If Richard had asked him calmly, he might¡¯ve known exactly how to respond. But faced with this sudden fury, O¡¯Neill found himself at a loss for words.


    His instinct was to say "yes," but he knew the consequences could be dire if he ended up failing to deliver. After all, this was football¡ªluck played its part too. So, he decided to play it safe.


    "I¡¯m unable to promise you anything before the match ends," O¡¯Neill finally replied, glancing down the hallway where people bustled past.


    After all, they were playing away, and expecting too much would have been unrealistic. Moreover, not only had City reinforced their squad, but Brentford had also bolstered their ranks for the new season¡ªincluding signing former Arsenal and Premier League veteran Paul Davis.


    With that in mind, O¡¯Neill felt it was fair to remain cautious.


    "No! You must win, must win!" Richard clamped O¡¯Neill¡¯s shoulder and shouted in his face.


    Now, O¡¯Neill found it rather strange.


    "Hey, Richard, does the boss of Brentford owe you a lot of money?" he asked with a wry smile.


    "No, but I just hate that guy!" Richard retorted sharply. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After remembering what had just happened, the more he thought about it, the angrier he became.


    O¡¯Neill could clearly sense the depth of Richard¡¯s fury. The sight of him shouting, his shoulders trembling with suppressed anger, was startlingly uncharacteristic of the usually amiable man.


    Richard then lowered his voice, but the venom in his tone was unmistakable.


    "I hate him very, very much! That bastard dares to look down on me... and on our team! Martin, didn¡¯t you say you want to win a match? There¡¯s a real opportunity right now. Defeat him. Humiliate him!"


    It was hard to believe that Richard Maddox, typically so genial, would erupt in such anger. Clearly, the Brentford boss had done something outrageously over the line.


    O¡¯Neill gave a slight sigh, then replied, "Alright, I¡¯ll try to get a win over Brentford, but I¡¯m not promi¡ª"


    "No, not try. You must! Must!" Richard cut him off forcefully.


    O¡¯Neill sighed in resignation, fully aware of the expectations placed upon him as he prepared to lead his team into battle.


    Sensing O¡¯Neill¡¯s hesitation, Richard didn¡¯t wait. Without missing a beat, he threw out the bait.


    "If you win this match, I¡¯ll promise you something," Richard said, and for the first time, his voice softened¡ªbut carried unmistakable weight.


    "A favor."


    "..."


    O¡¯Neill blinked.


    "A favor. Whatever you need¡ªbe it a player, new staff, training support, or even pulling strings with the board. You¡¯ll have it. You have my word."


    It wasn¡¯t said dramatically, but the meaning hit hard. Richard Maddox wasn¡¯t just some wealthy fan¡ªhe was the real deal. And when a self-made billionaire like him gave his word, it wasn¡¯t something to take lightly.


    What else could O¡¯Neill say? He looked at Richard and let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding.


    "Alright... I have to beat Brentford. No excuses. I must win¡ªno matter what."


    "That¡¯s right!!"


    Richard was satisfied with the answer as he patted O¡¯Neill¡¯s shoulder.


    "Shut that idiot¡¯s mouth! Make him... reap¡ªwhat¡ªhe¡ªgoddamned¡ªsowed!" Richard emphasized each and every word he shouted.


    Once again, returning to the changing room, O¡¯Neill looked at the players¡ªsuddenly unsure of what to say.


    After all, he had already given his: ¡¯Stick to the plan, stay sharp¡ªand stay hungry. That will be enough.¡¯ instructions.


    So he decided to change his approach.


    He walked over to the tactics board, dragging it to the center with a screech of the wheels. With a quiet click, he started rearranging the magnetic player pieces¡ªmidfielders nudging closer, the backline tightening, a lone striker pulled slightly wider.


    No words yet.


    Just the faint clack of magnets.


    Then he looked up and tapped the board twice.


    "We control the tempo. We press them out of the game. We punish their mistakes."


    "..."


    Everyone was taken aback by this sudden change. Even Robetrson and the rest of the staff fell silent.


    Of course, before the pre-match talk, the backroom staff had already discussed all of this. This was how O¡¯Neill usually did things. So they were surprised to see this sudden shift¡ªbut none of them voiced it.


    O¡¯Neill rubbed his temples slowly, then let out a short breath. He stepped away from the board and turned back to face them fully. He decided to tell them what just happened. Perhaps, it could have quite a considerable effect on them.


    "Does anyone know who that call was from¡ªor who I just met outside?"


    No one nodded. No one shook their heads either. Just silence.


    O¡¯Neill let the quiet stretch for a second, then said evenly, "It was the chairman."


    "..."


    Everyone focused their attention on O¡¯Neill, wanting to listen to what he had to say.


    "Let¡¯s just say he¡¯s not in the best mood right now," O¡¯Neill said, pausing as he gathered his thoughts. "He¡¯s furious with the Brentford top brass. Apparently, they looked down on us¡ªclaimed the only reason we finished above them last season was because they were exhausted. Too many fixtures, too many competitions, while we only had one to focus on."


    "..."


    "Especially now that they¡¯ve bolstered their squad with an ex-Premier League player, they believe they can tame us. So tell me¡ªare we easy to tame?"


    "IMPOSSIBLE!!!"


    Cafu, the new captain, stood up instantly. To be honest, as a new captain, he felt a bit awkward, not knowing what to do. But thankfully, O¡¯Neill had given him a chance just now.


    The other players followed suit, standing with determination.


    "That¡¯s right!"


    That¡¯s right!!"


    "That¡¯s why¡ª"


    The Game Plan.


    Exploit the Flanks.


    "Using what we do best, Cafu and Roberto will push hard on the left and right, stretching them wide to expose the middle."


    He turned to the players, his gaze sharp.


    "Ronaldo, one-on-one situations. Direct runs. No hesitation. Make them panic. Make them uncomfortable."


    Press Aggressively.

 Chapter 166: Yes—applause! Louder and louder!!! I’ll buy you lunch for that!

    Chapter 166: Yes¡ªapplause! Louder and louder!!! I¡¯ll buy you lunch for that!Brentford F.C. finished second last season, and it¡¯s worth noting that they did so impressively, despite not having any standout star players.


    Their success in the league was primarily driven by the remarkable cohesion of their squad, a group of "bees warriors" who worked tirelessly together year after year.


    While their balance between offense and defense wasn¡¯t perfect, they managed to lose the matches they were expected to lose and win the ones they were supposed to win. On average, they scored and conceded around 1.5 goals per game.


    Their head coach, David Webb, could be said to have had a wonderful season, as he and his squad firmly believed they could press Birmingham ahead of them.


    Every match was a statement of their ambition, and their confidence grew with each victory. However, no one expected them to be suddenly overtaken by a team they hadn¡¯t accounted for from the start.


    Manchester City.


    And coincidentally, they would meet them in the opening match.


    As the opponent for the opening fixtures, the current vice chairman of Brentford naturally had high expectations.


    He didn¡¯t hesitate to back David Webb in his goal of competing for the top spots in the First Division, even bringing in the experienced Paul Davis from Arsenal, hoping he could bring a positive influence to Brentford.


    Just like him, the current manager, David Webb, was equally busy. He had thoroughly studied Manchester City¡ªeverything from their summer spending spree to their tactical performance last season. However, one thing that stood out to him was a comment from Martin O¡¯Neill, who said they were simply hoping for Manchester City to survive in the league.


    "They¡¯re done for," said David Webb to Jeffer Coff, the vice chairman of Brentford.


    "Are you confident of defeating them?"


    "Not only defeating them, I will crush them," Webb snorted.


    He found that whether it was Richard Maddox or Martin O¡¯Neill, they were somewhat self-aware, understanding the importance of establishing a foothold in the First Division rather than setting unrealistic expectations of winning the title.


    Webb couldn¡¯t help but feel disdain for an owner who lacked true ambition.


    Moreover, what was the point of buying so many young and unknown players at once? Do you really think assembling this group of newcomers will lead to team cohesion so easily?


    So, Webb snorted dismissively, convinced that their loss to City last season had been nothing more than a fluke.


    With this kind of reassurance and guarantee, naturally, Coff became more complacent. He arrived at Griffin Park with his head held high as he made his way toward the VIP box.


    And this is where he crossed paths with Richard.


    One hour before the match, Coff casually discussed the club¡¯s transfer targets with his manager, David Webb.


    With just over four days remaining in the transfer window, there was still time to act. Unsatisfied with only bringing in Paul Davis, Brentford were looking to further strengthen their squad¡ªparticularly by securing loan deals from bigger clubs.


    For clubs like theirs, every transfer window became a season of "stitching and mending"¡ªa time to patch holes rather than build anew.


    But mid-conversation, Coff noticed that Webb had suddenly gone quiet, a strange expression settling on his face as he stared at something behind them.


    Curious, Coff turned to look¡ªand there he saw the tall, sharply dressed figure of Richard, his navy suit catching the eye even from a distance.


    With a calm smile, Richard stepped forward and extended his right hand toward Coff.


    "Hello, nice to meet you," he said gently.


    "..."


    But the response wasn¡¯t what Richard had expected.


    Silence.


    And then¡ª


    "Who are you? Why are you here? How did he even get in?"


    "..."


    Richard was stupefied by the response, his hand still frozen mid-air.


    Assuming he had been mistaken for a trespasser, Richard maintained his calm smile and said,"I¡¯m Richard Mad¡ª"


    His outstretched hand still hung in the air, only to be coldly and awkwardly ignored¡ªinterrupted once again.


    Coff scowled. In an old-fashioned manner, he waved his hand toward the nearby security team, who were busy escorting Brentford players and staff.


    "Where is the security team? Why is this man even allowed in here?"


    Richard¡¯s expression stiffened.


    In that moment, he caught a glimpse of Brentford¡¯s players and coaches walking by, all sharing bemused looks at him.


    The stands fell silent as fans curiously observed Richard¡¯s reaction to the bizarre situation¡ªhis hand extended in greeting, only to be met with cold indifference and a barrage of insults in his direction.


    What on earth is happening?


    Thankfully, the situation was interrupted by a plastic cup flying through the air, splashing cola near them.


    THWACK!


    The plastic cup hit the ground with a soft crack, sending cola splashing in all directions.


    "Goddamn it! Security!" Jeffer Coff yelled, his voice rising in disbelief as everyone¡¯s attention turned toward the mess.


    "What the hell?! Where¡¯s security?" David Webb also added.


    While everyone else was fuming, distracted, or even finding the situation interesting, Richard saw it as a fortunate opportunity.


    The brief distraction gave him the opening he needed to break free from his stillness. His senses kicked in, and he turned, spotting a young man¡ªthe culprit who threw the cup¡ªdarting through the crowd, likely realizing that security was closing in on him due to the ruckus.


    Realizing this, Richard seized the chaos and also slipped away as well. But as he turned, his face hardened.


    He was furious.


    Without a second thought, he pulled out his phone and dialed O¡¯Neill¡¯s number. The pre-match talk¡ªhe knew O¡¯Neill was probably deep into it with the team. But this couldn¡¯t wait.


    The phone rang twice, but the call quickly ended.


    With no other choice, he sent a message:


    [...Meet me outside. NOW!...]


    And so, the grudge was established between the two owners.


    The cheers of the Cityzens and the Bees echoed endlessly through Griffin Park Stadium as the match kicked off, and from the outset, it appeared overwhelmingly one-sided.


    City launched wave after wave of attacks, with the ball spending most of its time in Brentford¡¯s half.


    O¡¯Neill was a constant presence on the touchline, waving his arms and shouting instructions, urging his players forward. He was determined to take the initiative and overwhelm Brentford early on.


    In stark contrast, Webb stood calmly at the edge of his technical area, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.


    Despite the pressure, he showed no signs of panic. To him, the game wasn¡¯t as lopsided as it seemed.


    Brentford deployed a classic 4-4-2 formation, building from the back and the midfield before launching long balls forward in search of their strikers. Meanwhile, City¡¯s approach was far more fluid and dynamic, with overlapping full-backs like Roberto Carlos and Cafu creating constant threats down the flanks.


    That aggressive push from the full-backs was exactly what Webb had been waiting for.


    Brentford had deliberately sat deep, biding their time¡ªhoping to exploit the space left behind once City¡¯s defenders surged forward.


    It was basically just another traditional English 4-4-2.


    A flat back four: solid, no-nonsense defenders, with full-backs who rarely ventured far forward. Their primary duties were to defend, clear danger, and mark opposing wingers.


    Two central midfielders¡ªone focused on breaking up play and making tackles, while the other pushed forward to link up with the attack, though both often leaned defensive.


    Then, another two midfielders¡ªclassic touchline-huggers¡ªoperated on the wings, tasked with sprinting down the flanks and whipping crosses into the box. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Finally, two strikers: a typical pairing featured a strong target man alongside a pacey second striker.


    Very classic.


    Back when O¡¯Neill was at Wycombe, he relied heavily on this kind of strategy. But after coaching players like Cafu, Roberto Carlos, and Ronaldo, his entire mindset evolved.


    His 4-4-2 system had become far more dangerous¡ªone moment of mistakes, and you¡¯ done for.


    First Half


    From the opening minute, Manchester City pressed aggressively, their intensity palpable as they immediately claimed dominance over the pitch.


    Just five minutes in, City made their intentions clear, delivering a harsh lesson to Brentford about the dangers of playing the ball out from the back instead of clearing it immediately.


    On the edge of the penalty box, Brentford¡¯s center-back, Jamie Bates, played a short, seemingly simple pass to their new midfielder, Paul Davis.


    With a touch and turn, Davis tried to shield the ball, but the movement was anything but graceful. He moved like an oil tanker trying to make a sharp turn, slow and heavy-footed. What Davis didn¡¯t notice also was the lurking threat.


    By the time he had gathered himself, the danger was already closing in.


    Ronaldo, ever the predator, read the situation perfectly and swooped in. He made a swift, precise tackle, dispossessing Davis and sending the ball to Larsson, who fired a shot toward goal.


    The ball slipped through Brentford goalkeeper Kevin Dearden¡¯s hands, fumbling awkwardly as the wet ball escaped his grasp.


    "Larsson, what a debut! So sharp, so composed. Dearden couldn¡¯t hold onto it, and Larsson takes full advantage. That¡¯s what you call being in the right place at the right time. For Bates, it¡¯s a huge mistake¡ªhe played a good pass, but the ball was never meant to stay with Davis."


    As the replay rolled, the commentator added, "The ball slipped through Dearden¡¯s grasp¡ªno doubt about it, the wet conditions played their part. But Larsson? He didn¡¯t hesitate. He was ready for it. A perfect start to his First Division season!"


    Following his goal, Larsson raced down the byline toward the corner flag, igniting a wave of celebration among the surrounding supporters.


    Other City players quickly joined him, sharing in the joy as fans erupted in jubilant delight, their arms raised and cheers echoing with uncontainable excitement, the kind typically reserved for the happiest of moments.


    The happiest of all was definitely Richard, who erupted with boundless excitement¡ªhis fists clenched and waving vigorously in front of him.


    Soon, however, a flicker of disappointment crossed his face. He couldn¡¯t spot the bastard who had ignored him earlier.


    The only person Richard could clearly see was the opposing manager, whose face was flushed with agitation as he shouted furiously toward the pitch.


    Still, Richard shrugged it off. In his excitement, he grabbed the person beside him and yelled in his ear, "CHANT THIS AND I¡¯LL COVER YOUR LUNCH! SPREAD THIS!" as he slipped a piece of paper into his hands.


    The person, who had been celebrating just moments before, was taken aback when someone suddenly grabbed him.


    He was about to get angry but stopped when he heard Richard¡¯s words. His face then turned into one of surprise.


    When Richard arrived at Griffin Park Stadium, he had already told Miss Heysen and everyone else that he wanted to relive the nostalgia of football, to support the team like he used to. Of course, with a bodyguard around him. So, he wore a scarf around his face to keep his identity hidden. But now, the person clearly recognized who he was.


    "RICHARD MADDOX?!"


    His shout turned heads instantly. As both teams were preparing for kickoff, people were in the midst of a cool-off period. Excited murmurs rippled through the surrounding crowd, with people introducing themselves and tossing in questions about City here and there.


    The buzz was nonstop¡ªso much so that the nearby bodyguards looked ready to step in. But with a subtle glance, Richard signaled them to stand down.


    Always composed, he quickly shifted the crowd¡¯s focus back to the match and leaned in with a simple request.


    With the promise from Richard Maddox himself, people quickly agreed, and to Richard¡¯s surprise, the person he had grabbed soon grabbed another man¡ªsomeone Richard immediately recognized.


    It was the same young man, or perhaps a kid, who had thrown the cola earlier, saving him from embarrassment.


    Richard watched as the young man waved his hand toward another person, likely his friend, who nodded and allowed him to climb into his seat. This left Richard dumbfounded.


    Because soon, he noticed something strange: all of them were wearing the same jacket with the same City logo.


    ¡¯This... this group of people is City¡¯s firm?! The Guvnors?!!¡¯


    PHWEEEE!


    But soon, his thoughts were cut off as the whistle blew, signaling the start of the match.


    Within minutes, City fans had already taken control of the atmosphere, especially with their new chant!


    As the game unfolded, a thundering chant erupted from the stands, overwhelming the Bees and sending a wave of energy through the crowd.


    ???? "When we get the ball, we¡¯re gonna score, we¡¯re gonna win, we¡¯re gonna roar!" ????


    ???? "City, City, City¡¯s on fire, we¡¯re gonna burn the place down!" ????


    Listening to the thunderous roars of the crowd, Richard raised his arms high, urging the fans to amplify their cheers.


    ¡¯City firm? Hooligans? Guvnors? Doesn¡¯t matter. For now, let¡¯s enjoy and humiliate that bastard!¡¯


    Positioned in front of the stands, standing on the bench with his back to the pitch, he spurred the fans on, his excitement infectious, making the atmosphere even more electric.


    Since when had a club owner stepped out from behind the desk and become the orchestrator of such energy?


    It felt like the natural expression of his passion, and for those around him, it was a moment they¡¯d never forget.

 Chapter 167: Making Them an Example

    Chapter 167: Making Them an ExampleFor the next forty minutes, City completely dominated possession. They didn¡¯t allow Brentford a moment to breathe.


    Cafu and Roberto Carlos terrorized the full-backs, cutting inside, driving at defenders, and forcing mistakes. Brentford looked uncomfortable, pinned in their own half. And then¡ªCity struck again.


    It was only the 10th minute.


    This was pure Ronaldo.


    The Brazilian received the ball on the left wing, right by the touchline, with Brentford¡¯s right-back directly in front of him.


    The right-back had been struggling all game, trying to contain the dangerous Ronaldo and Roberto Carlos partnership. Now, he found himself in the worst possible situation¡ªone-on-one with City¡¯s most lethal dribbler.


    Ronaldo slowed down, taking a few small touches as he approached. He let the ball roll under his sole, sizing up the defender. Brentford¡¯s right-back stayed cautious, not diving in, trying to keep his shape.


    Then came the switch.


    Ronaldo dropped a quick shoulder to the right, and the defender bit¡ªjust for a second. That was all Ronaldo needed. He shifted the ball onto his left and burst inside, skipping past with ease.


    The space opened up.


    Now he had options.


    The other defenders backed off, afraid of another dangerous pass into the box. After all, the first goal was still fresh in their minds¡ªRonaldo¡¯s assist and Larsson¡¯s finish had already done the damage.


    But this time, Ronaldo wasn¡¯t looking to pass. He set the ball onto his right foot, took two steady steps, and then¡ªflawless technique.


    A curling shot, struck to perfection, bent toward the top corner.


    Brentford¡¯s keeper, Dearden, reacted, diving at full stretch. But it was out of reach.


    The ball kissed the inside of the post and dropped into the net.


    Brentford 0 ¨C 2 Manchester City.


    The away stands erupted instantly.


    ???? "When we get the ball, we¡¯re gonna score, we¡¯re gonna win, we¡¯re gonna roar!" ????


    ???? "City, City, City¡¯s on fire, we¡¯re gonna burn the place down!" ????


    Ronaldo sprinted toward the corner flag, the crowd rising to their feet. As he neared the corner, he dropped into a knee slide, arms crossed over his chest, a calm expression on his face despite the roar around him.


    It wasn¡¯t just celebration¡ªit was a statement.


    And on the other end of the pitch?


    Brentford¡¯s players looked shattered.


    Their counter-attacking game plan wasn¡¯t just ineffective¡ªit had completely unraveled. Every attempted break was snuffed out before it could build, and they rarely managed more than a few passes before City won the ball back.


    Heads were down. Shoulders sagged.


    The early goals had drained not just their energy, but their belief. Ronaldo¡¯s strike, coming so soon after the opener, felt like a gut punch. The midfield was overrun, the full-backs isolated, and their front line stranded.


    David Webb barked instructions from the touchline, urging his team to reset, to stay compact¡ªbut even he looked concerned. Brentford weren¡¯t just chasing the ball now. They were chasing shadows.


    Paul Davis? The ex-Arsenal player?


    He was a ghost.


    Every time he got the ball, black and red shirts swarmed him.


    Every time he tried to turn, van Bommel, with his trademark hard tackles, was there¡ªpressing him into mistakes.


    The frustration was building.


    This result surprised everyone. By the end of the first half, City were already leading by two goals.


    Richard in the stands was delighted, hugging and singing with the fans, but what pleased him most was his team¡¯s permanent possession. They were truly dominating all the time.


    Hugging the man he had grabbed earlier, Richard leaned in and asked suddenly, "Hey, do you know him?"


    "What?" the man shouted back.


    Richard¡¯s voice was barely audible over the noise of the crowd.


    Then Richard pointed toward the young man, celebrating and shouting like a madman. "You know him, right? What¡¯s his name? Is he from the Guvnors?"


    Only then did the man realize what Richard meant. "Oh, Mark," he said, nodding before continuing, "No, that¡¯s the Blazing Squad, not the Guvnors. Don¡¯t worry, he won¡¯t cause trouble like them. Borran is a good lad."


    ¡¯Borran? Mark Borran?¡¯ Richard thought, but before he could ask any more questions, the second half kicked off.


    Seeing the guy already focused on the match, Richard decided not to disturb him.


    The match resumed, and just as the second half got underway, the commentator¡¯s voice crackled to life.


    "And there¡¯s a change for Manchester City! Gianluca Zambrotta is coming off, and in his place, it¡¯s Theodoros Zagorakis, making his way onto the field."


    Robertson, who was seated on the away coach¡¯s seat, saw O¡¯Neill turn around. He had been busy instructing Zagorakis on what to do in the second half.


    "Martin, why did you suddenly substitute Zambrotta just now? I think he didn¡¯t play badly in the first half." he couldn¡¯t help to asked.


    O¡¯Neill simply shook his head, "Gian¡¯s problem isn¡¯t that he¡¯s not good enough, but that he¡¯s not yet accustomed to his new role. Didn¡¯t you see? In the first ten minutes, he took six shots, but all were off target. After that, he didn¡¯t take another, even when he had the chance. He lost his confidence to shoot the ball."


    Hearing O¡¯Neill¡¯s reason, Robertson was taken aback. "How did you know that?"


    Noticing his assistant¡¯s confused look, O¡¯Neill responded, "You just know it naturally when you have the experience. When a player has a chance and doesn¡¯t use it effectively, chooses not to take it because he sees another option, or simply holds back because he lacks confidence... If I force him, there¡¯s a higher chance he will continue to lose confidence in his other skills as well. I¡¯d rather not take that risk."


    "His skills are still there, just not being used in the right position. This is probably why Como hasn¡¯t been able to make the most of him. They¡¯ve seen his physical attributes and tried to use his height and strength in aerial duels as a striker¡ª"


    He stopped.


    "John, you know what? I¡¯ve just had an idea."


    "What is it?"


    "You know about the Cafu rumor, right?"


    "...As Roma?"


    O¡¯Neill nodded. "Rather than using him wrongly like Como did, making him scratch his head and make the wrong assessment, let¡¯s try him at right back. Just in case of Cafu¡ª"


    He stopped again.


    Hearing this, Robertson understood.


    "I¡¯ll coordinate with Walford about this."


    "Alright, thank you."


    With that, they both turned their focus back to the match.


    For the rest of the match, it was basically game over for Brentford.


    Especially for the ex-Premier League player, Paul Davis¡ªtoday was truly a nightmare.


    By the 65th minute, it boiled over.


    Davis received a simple pass, but his first touch was sloppy. Ronaldo pounced instantly, stealing the ball away, and the crowd roared.


    Would it repeat like the first half?


    But unfortunately, it didn¡¯t.


    Davis, already fuming, lunged in late¡ªrash, reckless, desperate. Ronaldo went down under the challenge.


    "What the hell! That was an obvious foul! Damn it, a foul!" Richard, from the stands, aflame with indignation, bellowed toward the pitch.


    And yes, the referee immediately blew his whistle.


    Yellow card.


    Davis stood there, breathing heavily, his jaw clenched.


    An ex-Premier League player? It didn¡¯t matter! You¡¯re trapped here with us now!


    Paul Davis was losing his head.


    And Brentford? S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    They were losing the game, and David Webb was basically scratching his head in frustration. He immediately called someone to substitute Paul Davis.


    Originally, he wanted to keep him on for longer because he feared that substituting him while he was struggling would be a blow to his confidence, but now he didn¡¯t have a choice.


    However, his late substitution proved costly. As everyone knows, a substitution can only happen once the ball is out of play. That meant the ball at the feet of the City player had to either go out for a goal kick or off the pitch before Paul could exit the field.


    But the problem was, Brentford couldn¡¯t breathe.


    Every pass? Chased down.


    Every touch? Under pressure.


    Every attempt to build an attack? Shut down before it even began.


    Finally, in the 70th minute, City¡¯s relentless pressing forced a mistake¡ªand they were soon rewarded.


    Brentford had managed to push upfield, trying to find a consolation goal.


    Then¡ªdisaster.


    A sloppy pass from Davis.


    Intercepted.


    Robbie Savage, fresh off the bench, read it perfectly, aiming for Davis¡¯s foot, making him jump before the ball even touched his boot.


    "Hey, that¡¯s a foul!" he yelled at the referee, but the official remained firm, showing no intention of stopping play. Meanwhile, the crowd erupted in applause, their excitement palpable.


    Luckily, the attempted clearance sent the ball wide to Ronaldo.


    Now, with Brentford¡¯s defenders out of position, Ronaldo had all the space he needed.


    The Brazilian burst down the left wing, eating up ground with each stride.


    Webb screamed from the sideline, urging his players to get back, but Ronaldo was already deep in Brentford¡¯s half.


    2 vs. 1.


    Ronaldo and Henrik Larsson vs Jamie Bates.


    As Bates lunged in, Ronaldo saw Larsson ghosting into the box, signaling for the ball.


    Ronaldo gave a quick nod toward Larsson, as if preparing to pass, making Bates believe he was going to lay the ball off. Bates, anticipating the pass, instinctively raised his right foot to block the ball.


    But instead of passing, Ronaldo smoothly glided the ball past Bates, who was caught off guard by the feint. With a sudden burst of speed, Ronaldo launched into a blistering run, leaving Bates trailing behind.


    One skill.


    One touch.


    One shot.


    One-on-one with the goalkeeper, Ronaldo didn¡¯t break stride.


    A low shot into the bottom corner.


    No need to break stride. A perfect finish.


    Brentford F.C 0 - 3 Manchester City.


    Even the ¡¯Jamie Batesy!¡¯ chant stopped, replaced by...


    ???? "City, City, City¡¯s on fire, we¡¯re gonna burn the place down!" ????

 Chapter 168: City August-September Fixture Review

    Chapter 168: City August-September Fixture ReviewHenrik Larsson¡¯s debut for Manchester City was nothing short of spectacular!


    He scored in his first match¡ªfinding the net even before the game reached the 11th minute. That means it took him less than ten minutes to break through Brentford¡¯s defense!


    Ronaldo, as always, was exceptional. Alongside his fellow countrymen Roberto Carlos and Cafu¡ªnow the new team captain¡ªhe put in a performance that certainly didn¡¯t disappoint.


    The new signings¡ªVan Bommel, Materazzi, and Zambrotta¡ªalso brought a fresh energy to City¡¯s play. Their presence added excitement, with fans cheering even during their physical altercations with opponents.


    Materazzi, in particular, stood out for his aggressive style, tight marking, and hard tackles¡ªhallmarks of his no-nonsense defending.


    Brentford seemed to be looking for consolation goal, but every time they tried to deliver the ball to their forwards¡ªwhether from the back or down the flanks¡ªtheir strikers were physically blocked by the towering presence of Materazzi. And whenever there was a loose ball, they quickly realized it had already been swept away by a speedy figure darting in from the side.


    William Gallas!


    Because of Richard¡¯s provocation and the intense energy of the opening fixture¡ªplus a brief skirmish with Richard before kickoff¡ªGriffin Park erupted the moment the final whistle blew.


    The entire stadium exploded in cheers.


    The crowd roared in celebration with Richard, with fans in the nearest stands surging forward, desperate to flood the pitch and surround the players in a wave of admiration.


    Fortunately, it was an away match with only a modest number of Cityzens in attendance, so the security barriers managed to keep them all in check.


    After the match, Richard¡ªtrue to his promise¡ªopened his wallet and treated the City fans in attendance, grateful to those who had already done him a favor by chanting the lyrics he had written, crafted as a jab at Brentford vice chairman.


    "Where¡¯s that Mark guy?" he asked suddenly, scanning the crowd. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The young man who had thrown a cola at him earlier was nowhere to be seen. He wanted to thank him¡ªfor that unexpected save during the embarassment.


    The man Richard had grabbed earlier in the stands glanced around before muttering, "Looks like the fight¡¯s already started."


    "...What?"


    Richard froze.


    ¡¯The fuck did he mean by, ¡¯the fight¡¯s already started¡¯?¡¯


    Wait a minute... the City firm! Hooliganism!


    Only then did Richard remember, and a wave of anxiety hit him. After all, this involved the club¡ªand hooliganism was still a highly sensitive issue in the eyes of the English authorities.


    Richard then felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around.


    "Mr. Richard," the man said, noticing the worry on his face.


    He continued, "Even though I don¡¯t support things like this, sometimes it¡¯s just... inevitable." He shook his head. "The government¡¯s been trying to stamp it out for years, but they¡¯ve failed. What could you possibly do to stop it?"


    "..."


    He had a point¡ªand that only made Richard feel even more helpless.


    "What about the CCTV?"


    CCTV was installed in English football stadiums during the 1990s to tackle hooliganism, fan violence, and crowd control issues that had plagued the sport throughout the 1970s and 1980s¡ªespecially in the wake of major disasters and growing public pressure for reform. It was all done for the sake of safety and to modernize the sport¡¯s infrastructure.


    "That¡¯s what I was trying to say," the man said, his eyes drifting toward a narrow alley. Richard followed his gaze.


    "Times have changed. Ever since the police installed CCTV in every stadium, they don¡¯t just fight randomly like they used to. Instead of the mass brawls of the past, many firms now coordinate their fights in advance. They plan ahead and meet up far from the stadiums¡ªsometimes even when there¡¯s no match taking place."


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched upon hearing this.


    "So you¡¯re saying, right now they...?"


    "Most likely gearing up for a fight. That¡¯s probably why that Mark Morran kid¡¯s gone off the radar."


    "..."


    Richard naturally wasn¡¯t interested in such a conflict. As long as it didn¡¯t get out of hand or cause trouble, he didn¡¯t care. After all, hooliganism was part of the culture.


    So, he bid farewell to the man after paying for the hot dogs and chips, planning to return to Maine Road. However, before he could reach the parking lot, something caught the corner of his eye.


    ¡¯That damn bastard!¡¯


    His eyes lit up as he strode toward them. After whispering and getting a nod from his bodyguards, Richard made his move.


    "Wonderful!" he exclaimed, his voice unintentionally soaring seven octaves.


    With a touch of feigned ignorance, he then turned to his bodyguard. "Did you see that? City just wiped the floor with them! Hahaha!"


    The bodyguard, fully briefed, smoothly played along. "Of course! City is simply unbeatable¡ªespecially our new guy, Larsson. His ability to seize opportunities is incredible. Even though he¡¯s not from the Premier League, he scored a goal so quickly."


    Jeff Coff, the vice-chairman of Brentford, overheard this. It felt like a sharp jab to an open wound, and his face immediately darkened. He was just about to take a step forward when his phone rang.


    Martin Lange ¡ª Chairman.


    Jeff¡¯s expression immediately changed. This transfer window, full authority over player movement had been delegated to him, as Lange was preoccupied with overseeing the club¡¯s stadium expansion. The call could only mean one thing: business.


    With a sharp snort in Richard¡¯s direction¡ªhalf annoyance, half resignation¡ªhe turned on his heel and walked away, phone pressed to his ear.


    Richard, watching the whole thing unfold, couldn¡¯t help but smile. He turned away with theatrical flair, grinning ear to ear, barely able to contain his laughter.


    Thankfully, the media presence was still relatively limited in those early days, so only a handful of fans witnessed the conflict.


    After securing a successful opening fixture, Richard refrained from mentioning that bastard¡¯s name again. In his mind, Brentford was merely a stepping stone for Manchester City.


    By the end of the first round, City had unexpectedly claimed the top spot in the league table, closely followed by Sheffield United, Millwall, Burnley, and other strong teams with promotion potential.


    Upon arriving at Maine Road, Richard immediately got to work. When the first-team bus finally arrived, he summoned O¡¯Neill to his office to discuss the plans for the upcoming month.


    He began by outlining the competitions City would be participating in over the next few weeks.


    Richard pointed to the folder in O¡¯Neill¡¯s hands. "Before the FIFA break in mid-September, we¡¯ve got seven League One matches¡ªagainst Barnsley, Stoke City, Bolton, Reading, West Brom, Burnley, and Watford. Two of those are midweek fixtures, meaning the players will have to handle two games in a single week. On top of that, we have the first round of the League Cup next week. If we get through, the second round will fall in the final week of September."


    O¡¯Neill studied the first-team schedule in the folder, falling into deep thought.


    The weekend match against Barnsley shouldn¡¯t be too difficult¡ªafter all, the Tykes were still in the same shape as last season and expected to battle in the relegation zone. Still, he knew better than to underestimate any opponent.


    Especially Stoke City, West Brom, and Burnley¡ªthose would be the real tests for City. These teams were consistently in the top half of the First Division every year, all strong contenders for back-to-back promotion.


    As the FIFA break approached, Richard emphasized to O¡¯Neill the importance of maintaining a balanced mindset within the team. It was no easy feat to avoid the dangers of arrogance after a victory or the weight of discouragement following a defeat.


    Such mental resilience required more than just the head coach¡¯s guidance¡ªit demanded a comprehensive approach, one that went beyond words and into the heart of their training.


    The next thing he discussed was a growth and development plan for the young players.


    "David will turn 18 this October, which means, systematically, he will no longer be able to join our U17 team for the youth competition. But I will make an exception for him this year, so please also take a look at the U17 team and identify potential players who could be promoted next season."


    "David? You mean David Trezeguet? The lad who joined late with Craig Bellamy?"


    Richard nodded at O¡¯Neil¡¯s question.


    Next season, if City were promoted, the first obstacle they would face is probably the Premier League top dogs, along with La Liga or even Serie A, who would likely be knocking on their doors and making inquiries about their players¡¯ availability. He needed to prepare for the worst.


    O¡¯Neil instantly understood what Richard meant. He thought for a moment before saying, "Let¡¯s test him in the League Cup then, as a backup. The season is long, so we need to manage the main squad, ensuring they only play one match a week. Not to mention the Cup, even though we have mostly young players in the squad, so we must keep the match load reasonable."


    Richard agreed with this.


    "How about the next matches? What about the target?"


    "As for the next matches, my goal remains the same: no losses, and to minimize conceding goals. Even if we draw one or two, I¡¯d be okay with that."


    "Okay then, do your best."


    "Thank you."


    After rising from his seat, O¡¯Neil then bid farewell and left Richard¡¯s office.


    The next day, the media reaction was immediate and intense after Manchester City thrashed Brentford in a dominant performance¡ªespecially after City humbly stated their focus was "to survive in the league," deliberately avoiding any talk of a rivalry with Brentford.


    The Guardian:


    "CITY CRUSH THE BEES ¨C BUT SAY ¡¯NO BAD BLOOD¡¯"


    [...While fans might remember the tension from last season, City made it clear there¡¯s no grudge¡ªjust goals. ¡¯They came for points, not revenge,¡¯ one insider told us...]


    Daily Mirror:


    "NO GRUDGE, JUST GOALS: CITY DESTROY BRENTFORD BUT DOWNPLAY RIVALRY"


    [...The young squad could have played into the headlines, but instead they delivered a performance of cold, clinical efficiency¡ªthen walked away from the noise. Brentford fans may feel the sting, but City made it about the future, not the past...]


    Even The ¡¯bitch¡¯ Sun, known for its dramatic flair, had no choice but to stay neutral. With City dominating Brentford from the very first minute, they were left with little to sensationalize.


    Richard let out a quiet snort as he glanced through the newspaper Miss Heysen had brought in¡ªespecially when he saw The Sun trying to downplay their convincing win.


    With work wrapped up for the day, Richard left the office earlier than usual. He had another engagement on his schedule: the grand opening of his latest hotel venture¡ªThe Biltmore Mayfair!


    Previously known as the Britannia Inter-Continental London, Richard had decided it was time to rebrand his hotel chain under a new identity¡ªThe Biltmore Mayfair.


    Moving forward, all hotels and resorts under Maddox Property would open under the Biltmore brand, marking a bold new Chapter in his hospitality empire.


    So, while the previous opening, St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel, emphasized rich history and classic architecture, Biltmore would take a different approach, focusing on modern luxury and aiming to cater to a new generation of travelers who craved cutting-edge design and the latest in guest-centered technology.


    Upon arriving at The Biltmore Mayfair Hotel, the first person Richard met was Miss Heysen.


    She had already prepared his speech for the evening¡ªone that would not only mark his presence at The Biltmore Mayfair Gala but also lead into the night¡¯s second and most important agenda: the official announcement of the founding of the Maddox Group!


    This announcement would serve to publicly introduce the group¡¯s formation, outlining both the parent company and its newly established subsidiaries.


    It was a moment intended to make a strong statement¡ªnot just about expansion, but about structure, vision, and the long-term ambitions of the Maddox Group as it stepped onto the global stage.

 Chapter 169: Maddox Group

    Chapter 169: Maddox GroupIn the evening, at Mayfair¡¯s Grosvenor district, the Biltmore Mayfair hotel came to life.


    Lights were flashing, and music echoed through the air. Guests in elegant attire mingled in the grand lobby, their laughter and chatter blending with the rhythm of the upbeat tunes. But most of them were guests of Harry, his brother, who enjoyed mingling with celebrities because of his job.


    "Mr. Richard!"


    A young man with neatly styled short hair called out, his voice cutting through the background noise. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard turned toward the sound and instantly recognized him. He smiled warmly, raising his glass of orange juice in a casual toast.


    "Congratulations on hitting number one on the UK singles chart. Your track is everywhere lately¡ªwell deserved."


    It was Noel Gallagher, the backbone of the band Oasis, who had recently joined Maddox Entertainment under Harry¡¯s management. Their second studio album, (What¡¯s the Story) Morning Glory?, had just been released and exploded in popularity.


    It was the first album they released under Maddox Entertainment¡ªand later, he knew, the songs would go on to become some of the most successful of all time. Richard couldn¡¯t help but lick his lips. The more successful they became, the more money they printed for him.


    "We were just messing around in the studio a few months ago¡ªnever thought it¡¯d blow up like this." Noel Gallagher then said humbly.


    As a die-hard Manchester City fan, Noel didn¡¯t dwell on the music praise. Instead, his eyes lit up with something else entirely.


    "Mr. Richard, did you see City tear Brentford apart? The midfield was solid, the pressing was relentless, and that lad on the wing¡ªunreal. If we keep playing like that, promotion¡¯s not a dream, it¡¯s a timeline."


    Richard nodded, amused by his passion. "Of course¡ªbut let¡¯s hope the momentum holds. It¡¯s a long season."


    They clinked glasses, two very different worlds briefly united by the one thing they both couldn¡¯t stop thinking about¡ªfootball, and Manchester City¡¯s unstoppable start to the season.


    As time passed, Richard made his way through the crowd, exchanging greetings with a host of familiar faces.


    First, of course, were his players and coaching staff. Then came the celebrities¡ªfrom the rest of Oasis members to Thom Yorke of Radiohead, and even Rover CEO Alan Mulally, who was soon joined by Fay¡ªtwo key figures in Richard¡¯s growing automotive ventures.


    Later, he also greeted some special guests, including Vince McMahon from WWF, his MLS partner Philip Anschutz of The Anschutz Corporation, Roman Abramovich, and several representatives from Evrazholding, all of whom were in attendance at the event.


    Finally, as the evening neared its peak, the lights in the ballroom dimmed slightly, and a hush began to fall over the crowd.


    A spotlight turned toward the stage as the host¡¯s voice echoed through the speakers: "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage¡ªMr. Richard Maddox."


    A wave of polite applause rolled through the room as Richard stepped up, dressed sharply in a tailored midnight-blue suit. He smiled confidently, pausing to take in the room filled with celebrities, business leaders, creatives, and close allies.


    He leaned slightly toward the microphone, "Good evening, everyone. Thank you for being here tonight¡ªto celebrate not just the opening of The Biltmore Mayfair, but something even bigger."


    He paused for effect, letting the moment settle.


    "Tonight, I¡¯m proud to officially introduce The Maddox Group¡ªa new Chapter that brings together everything we¡¯ve built and everything we¡¯re aiming for. Under one name, one vision."


    On the large screen behind him, the new Maddox Group logo appeared¡ªsleek, modern, bold.


    "Maddox Auto will continue to innovate in mobility and performance. Maddox Property will redefine luxury living and hospitality. Maddox Entertainment will back bold talent and unforgettable stories. And with Maddox Capital, we will invest in the future¡ªstrategically, ethically, and fearlessly."


    After delivering a brief but impactful speech about the Maddox Group, Richard stepped back from the microphone. He raised his glass, a playful twinkle in his eye.


    "Tonight is about celebrating¡ªenjoying the hard work, the vision, and the people that got us here. So, let¡¯s take this moment to relax, have fun, and make some memories. The rest of the world can wait; tonight is for us."


    As the crowd erupted into applause and laughter, the music picked up again, and the energy in the room shifted from formal to festive.


    After stepping onto the stage, Richard took a moment to survey the room. His eyes soon found a familiar face¡ªMarina Granovskaia¡ªstanding in the crowd. Without missing a beat, he made his way toward her.


    "What are you doing here alone?" Richard asked.


    Marina didn¡¯t answer right away, instead giving a subtle glance toward a direction. Richard followed her gaze and saw Roman Abramovich dancing in the ballroom with her sister, Cassandra.


    Richard was amused by this. Did they really have fun together, leaving her alone to wait for them? But he couldn¡¯t help but look at the pair with a puzzled expression. ¡¯Are they actually a couple?¡¯


    Unable to hold back his curiosity, he leaned in slightly and asked, "Hey, is Mr. Abramovich and your sister¡ª"


    "No, their relationship is purely professional," Marina cut him off suddenly.


    Richard paused for a moment before smiling. "Alright, no need to elaborate," he said with a playful grin. "But you know, it¡¯s a bit of a surprise seeing you here, leaving your sister and Mr. Abramovich alone."


    Marina¡¯s lips curved slightly at the jab. "I prefer to keep a low profile, especially at these events."


    "Is that so?" Richard chuckled, his gaze never leaving her.


    The music swirled around them, the sound of laughter and conversation fading into the background. There was something magnetic about her, and he couldn¡¯t help but feel the pull.


    "Well, since you¡¯re here," Richard said out of nowhere, "how about we change that? Come on, let¡¯s dance."


    Marina raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Dance?" she echoed, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "With you?"


    "Why not?" Richard replied smoothly, extending his hand toward her. "It¡¯ll be fun. Just one dance, and we can both pretend we don¡¯t have a care in the world."


    There was a pause as Marina glanced around the room, taking in the couples twirling across the floor, the warmth, and the rhythm in the air. She hesitated, but then she relented.


    "Alright," she finally said, placing her hand in his. "But don¡¯t expect me to go easy on you."


    As they moved onto the dance floor, Richard led her effortlessly into the swirling crowd. Their dance was fluid, the connection between them undeniable.


    As the song played on, Richard leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You know, you¡¯re quite the dancer. I¡¯m impressed."


    Marina¡¯s lips twitched into a smile. "I¡¯ve had some practice," she said, but there was something more in her tone. It wasn¡¯t just about the dance anymore.


    The song began to slow, and with it, the space between them seemed to shrink even further. Richard¡¯s gaze locked with hers, and for a moment, everything else in the room faded into the background. The playful banter, the teasing exchanges¡ªit all seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of them in the midst of the dance, the chemistry undeniable.


    But just as quickly as it had come, the moment broke. The music stopped, followed by light applause, and with a soft laugh, Marina pulled back. "That was fun, but don¡¯t get too used to it," she said, her voice teasing but warm.


    Richard¡¯s smile lingered. "I won¡¯t," he replied, already looking forward to the next moment they would share.


    Just as Richard and Marina were about to turn away, a voice called out, "It seems you two have become quite close already."


    They both turned around to find Abramovich standing behind them, alone.


    "Your sister is over there," he said suddenly, nodding toward Marina. As a former secretary to him, Marina instantly recognized the cue¡ªtime to talk business.


    She gave Richard a quick nod before heading toward her sister.


    Richard, in turn, gestured for Abramovich to follow him.


    Without missing a beat, Richard led Abramovich toward a nearby meeting room.


    "I heard you just got back from your business trip to China?"


    After both had taken a seat, it didn¡¯t take long for Richard to bring up his question about the current state of Evrazholding¡ªafter all, he owned a 10.65% stake in the company.


    "Yes, I just landed this morning," Abramovich replied. "I¡¯ll tell you about it later, but here¡¯s the short version¡ªboth the central and local governments are extremely proactive in attracting foreign investment."


    Though Evrazholding was still focused on consolidating its domestic operations, Abramovich had been giving serious thought to expanding into China.


    As both men understood well¡ªtiming is everything, and China was entering a powerful wave of industrialization, fueled by sweeping economic reforms.


    That¡¯s why EVRAZ saw a clear strategic opportunity: to position itself closer to the demand center.


    The need for steel in infrastructure, railways, and construction¡ªas well as raw materials for manufacturing¡ªwas booming. And the timing couldn¡¯t have been more ideal.


    "Among the regions I visited, the governments in the northeastern provinces offered the most favorable conditions," Abramovich continued.


    "The northeastern provinces? Are you referring to the ones bordering North Korea?" Richard couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    "That¡¯s right."


    The northeastern region, commonly known as Dongbei San Sheng, includes the provinces of Liaoning, Jilin, and Heilongjiang.


    Richard frowned slightly. "Isn¡¯t that the complete opposite of where we originally planned to open the plant¡ªin Shenzhen?"


    Shenzhen¡¯s proximity to Southeast Asia, Hong Kong, and the broader Asia-Pacific market made it ideal for export-oriented manufacturing and serving regional infrastructure and construction needs.


    "That¡¯s correct. The distance between Shenyang, a major city in the northeast, and Shenzhen is about 2,300 kilometers¡ªquite far," Abramovich replied.


    "You¡¯re not seriously considering relocating the plant there, are you?"


    "At first, I was skeptical too. But after Frolov and Abramov brought up the idea, I think it¡¯s worth serious consideration," Abramovich said calmly.


    "Is that so?"


    Richard then crossed his arms, signaling he was open to discussion. "What changed your mind? Lower production costs?"


    "Not just that," Abramovich said, continuing. "Labor costs in Shenzhen are already significantly lower than in Europe. However, the northeastern provinces are even more underdeveloped and offer even cheaper labor. On top of that, the proximity to Korea is a major logistical advantage. Products can be transported efficiently through Dalian Port, which reduces shipping complexity."


    "Hmm," Richard muttered, absorbing the information.


    Abramovich pressed on. "While I was in Shenzhen, a high-ranking official from the Liaoning provincial government visited me after hearing about our plans. He was very enthusiastic about attracting our factory and offered some compelling incentives."


    At the mention of incentives, Richard¡¯s interest sharpened. He leaned forward. "What kind of incentives?"


    "They¡¯re offering a 25-acre site near Shenyang, rent-free for 55 years, and they¡¯ll handle all infrastructure¡ªroads, utilities, everything," Abramovich revealed.


    Richard¡¯s eyes widened slightly. "Twenty-five acres?"


    Though it wasn¡¯t as vast as the 300-acre Solihull plant owned by Rover Group, the fact that the Chinese government was offering all of this showed they were serious.


    "Exactly. And on top of that, they¡¯re willing to cut our corporate taxes in half for the first 10 years," Abramovich added.


    "No wonder you¡¯re considering relocation. If they¡¯re offering terms like that, they must be very committed."


    "Indeed. Liaoning¡¯s provincial government is so eager we could likely negotiate even more favorable conditions."


    Richard nodded slowly as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then, after a pause, he turned to Abramovich and asked the most important question.


    "But Roman..." he hesitated slightly, locking eyes with him, "why are you telling me all this? Even without my approval, it doesn¡¯t really matter, right... right?"


    Now, suddenly, Richard brought up the issue. Abramovich let out a suspicious-sounding cough before clearing his throat. "Actually... there¡¯s another reason I came here," he said, shifting slightly in his seat.


    "..."


    ¡¯I knew it,¡¯ Richard muttered to himself before nodding. "What is it?"


    Abramovich nodded thoughtfully before dropping the bombshell, leaving Richard momentarily stunned. "What are your thoughts on Russian football?"


    Richard was speechless.


    ¡¯No way... right?¡¯

 Chapter 170: FC Zenit Saint Petersburg Talk

    Chapter 170: FC Zenit Saint Petersburg Talk"You¡¯re kidding me, right?" Richard¡¯s voice was laced with disbelief.


    Abramovich didn¡¯t flinch. He simply shook his head, his expression unwavering. "No, I¡¯m serious. What do you think about Russian football? Honestly, I know it seems sudden, but I believe you¡¯re genuinely passionate about the sport. This is a golden opportunity."


    "You mean the Union or the league?" Richard asked, still processing.


    From what he knew, Russia¡¯s football scene was in a period of transition following the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Even their national football competition had only restarted in 1991, so 1995 marked the fourth season Russia had held its own national football competition since the breakup of the Soviet Union.


    "The Union," Abramovich replied, leaning forward slightly. "Not the league, but the governing body. The Russian Football Union needs someone who can bring fresh ideas, real change." Abramovich gave a subtle nod, confirming his words.


    Richard fell into a brief silence.


    "Hey, Roman."


    "What?" Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Be honest with me¡ªare you the one behind this, or is someone else pushing it?"


    "..."


    "It¡¯s not really your idea, is it? So why bring me into this?"


    ¡¯Because you love football so much, it seems you didn¡¯t even care about the one that could¡¯ve made you tons of money!¡¯ Abramovich sighed to himself, not knowing what Richard was thinking, but he didn¡¯t say anything further. Instead, he replied, "You know I can¡¯t."


    Richard remained silent, but Abramovich continued, "What can I gain from entering the football industry? Nothing."


    Football was still in the midst of transformation. It didn¡¯t yet have the financial stability, international exposure, or clear governance that could guarantee investors would see a return. Many clubs operated at a loss and depended on wealthy owners to cover shortfalls. In fact, owning a football club often meant losing money and hoping for prestige in return.


    Moreover currently, he was still focused on consolidating his business empire and navigating the complexities of post-Soviet Russia. Moreover, he had only just begun to enter the oil and gas industries, so football wasn¡¯t even on his radar yet.


    How much does Richard wish he had a recorder right now to capture everything Roman Abramovich is saying¡ªso that years later, in the 2000s, when Abramovich ends up buying Chelsea, he could play it back to him?


    But something also made him curious. Who was the person behind the scenes, bold enough to give orders to Roman Abramovich... unless...


    Richard swallowed hard, then leaned in, glancing left and right before whispering cautiously, "...Is it Boris?"


    Boris Yeltsin¡ªthe current President of Russia.


    Abramovich didn¡¯t answer immediately, but he nodded before adding, "And Vyacheslav Koloskov."


    Richard¡¯s eyes widened in shock. "No way!" he blurted out instantly.


    Not only the president of the country, but now also the current vice president of FIFA is getting involved?


    No way. He wanted nothing to do with politics.


    ¡¯Oh crap¡¯


    That was definitely a trap.


    "I know what you¡¯re thinking," Abramovich said with a sigh, his tone growing more serious. "But I believe Russian football is at a turning point. It needs real reform. This isn¡¯t just about fixing clubs or the national team¡ªit¡¯s about overhauling the entire system. From youth development to league management, everything needs to change."


    Richard frowned. "Then you¡¯re looking at the wrong person. I have no experience in this. Honestly, what exactly are you asking me to do?"


    "We want you to lead the transformation. To help build a sustainable model that supports future talent, strengthens management, and brings international standards to Russian football. The idea is to restructure everything¡ªfrom the top league down to youth academies¡ªto produce world-class players who can compete globally."


    "...And you want me to guide this entire transformation?"


    "Yes," Abramovich said firmly. "You¡¯ve built successful systems from scratch¡ªlook at how you managed City. Russian football needs that kind of radical change. And with your help, I believe we can achieve it."


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched. What did he mean by ¡¯guiding City?¡¯ We¡¯re still in the first division league. Still, he shook his head.


    "Impossible." Richard stood up abruptly.


    No matter what the reason¡ªwhether it was genuinely about football or a broader attempt to boost Russia¡¯s global image through sport¡ªRichard wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. Without hesitation, he rejected Abramovich¡¯s offer.


    Richard thought Abramovich would be disappointed¡ªor maybe show a hint of anger¡ªbut he didn¡¯t. Instead, and unexpectedly, he smiled as he pulled his bag around and took something out of it


    "I knew you¡¯d say that," he said suddenly, leaving Richard at a loss for words.


    He continued, "LOMO optical plant took ownership of FC Zenit after the war. In 1990, FC Zenit was re-registered as an independent, city-owned professional club and was run by the municipality of Saint Petersburg. However, after being relegated, the club was operating at a loss, and now the city government of Saint Petersburg wants to sell its shares to private individuals or corporations."


    "..."


    Richard was left speechless, and Abramovich responded with nothing more than a quiet, knowing smile.


    From an investor¡¯s perspective¡ªthe potential, the growth, the untapped market, the chance to be part of something new and rising¡ªit was all there. It could be a risk, but in a way, that made it even more tempting.


    "You mean FC Zenit Saint Petersburg?"


    "Yes," Abramovich confirmed, his gaze lingering on Richard.


    Not to mention the players¡ªlike Andrei Arshavin, Aleksandr Golovin, Igor Akinfeev¡ªand later how Russian football shook the world by making lucrative investments in stars like Hulk and others who flocked to Russia in droves.


    With no other choice, Richard could only take his seat, showing his willingness to listen.


    Abramovich sighed, a sense of relief washing over him as he realized that Richard was finally interested. For him, this was a high-stakes gamble, as the current governor of Saint Petersburg was on the verge of granting approval for Sibneft to acquire part of the Kirishi-2 Oil Refinery.


    A requirement disguised as a favor indeed, but the result of this conversation could change his life significantly.


    Time passed, and the party at the Biltmore was winding down, but Richard and Abramovich had yet to leave their room.


    Even Granovskaia¡¯s sister stood in front of the door, hesitant to enter, as they could hear the heated argument inside.


    "I know, but the TV revenue is minimal, and the club is operating at a loss right now. Not to mention, there¡¯s no merchandise income, and attendance is dismal."


    "But you¡¯ll gain full support from the government with this," Abramovich countered. "This isn¡¯t just about the immediate financials. The government will back you. You¡¯ll be in a position to turn everything around."


    "Government support doesn¡¯t change the fact that the club¡¯s finances are in shambles," Richard shot back. "You¡¯re asking me to invest in a team that is losing money, has a negligible fanbase, and no substantial revenue streams beyond what we can scrape together from the government¡¯s favor."


    "Yes, the club is struggling now, but with the right investment and leadership, it will turn around quickly. The potential is there¡ªjust like Manchester City. Your investment will ensure that, and you¡¯ll be in control¡ª"


    "No, no, no. Don¡¯t compare Manchester City to this," Richard interrupted, frustration creeping into his voice. "Russia is a different world from England. This isn¡¯t just about leadership, Roman. The numbers don¡¯t lie. I¡¯d be taking on a huge liability, not a promising opportunity. The debts, the underperforming assets¡ªit¡¯s too risky. And right now, the price you¡¯re asking is far too high."


    In the end, no deal was reached, but both agreed to have another meeting next time, bringing their respective lawyers, which means the discussion is still ongoing.


    The following day, just before the training was set to begin, Richard received a message from O¡¯Neill, requesting his presence at a team meeting. Having cleared his schedule in advance, Richard agreed without hesitation.


    "This is exactly what I want to focus on in today¡¯s meeting," O¡¯Neill began, setting the tone for the discussion.


    "We have many young players in the team, and some have only played at the youth level. Therefore, I want to discuss the new U17 strategy and schedule, so these players can gradually gain experience and adapt quickly to the senior level."


    Since the disbandment of City A and City B, the club no longer maintains a reserve team. As a result, unlike other teams in the Premier League and First Division, they do not compete in the Central League for reserve teams.


    Once everyone present received a copy of the schedule¡ªalong with the full list of youth team players¡ªthe meeting quickly shifted into strategy mode, focusing on the new U17 squad.


    As Richard looked over the current City youth roster, he recognized only about 15 players. The rest, he realized, were former City B players¡ªthose who hadn¡¯t been sold during the last transfer window. They¡¯d been added to fill out the squad, making it possible for the club to participate in both the FA Youth Cup and the FA Premier Youth League.


    "Any questions, then?" O¡¯Neill asked, scanning the room.


    Richard raised his hand.


    "Chairman, please."


    Richard gave a nod of acknowledgment and stood up.


    "This is about how we can help our young players transition to the first team as efficiently as possible," he began. "For the current U17 squad, I believe we need to fully align their playing style with that of the senior team. That means introducing consistent match tactics and instilling the club¡¯s football philosophy from the early on. By doing so, we ensure that when these players are eventually called up, the step up feels seamless and familiar."


    "Also..." Richard paused for a moment, thinking, before continuing, "let¡¯s try to implement what Sheffield has done with their academy."


    Sheffield United was the club that discovered him and played a key role in turning him into one of the best young players in England during his time.


    The moment he said that¡ªespecially those words¡ªthe current U17 team manager, Dom¨¨nec Torrent, and coach, Willie McStay, immediately straightened up, ready to take notes on everything Richard was about to say.


    "First, it¡¯s not just about tactics or drills¡ªwhat truly matters are leadership, culture, and the environment," Richard said firmly. "You all understand that the role of an academy is to help a group of talented young players reach their full potential, right?"


    He looked around the room, making sure the message landed before continuing.


    "We¡¯re moving toward a multi-disciplinary approach now. I want each of you to discuss and develop a plan to create and sustain a high-performance environment for these players¡ªsomething that doesn¡¯t just work for this season, but can be carried forward into future seasons, even decades from now. Can you do that?"

 Chapter 171: BOO!

    Chapter 171: BOO!After wrapping up the internal meeting with O¡¯Neill and his staff, it was soon time for Manchester City¡¯s third fixture¡ªan away match against Stoke City.


    After a convincing 3¨C0 win over Brentford, City followed it up with another solid performance ¡ª a 2¨C0 victory against Barnsley.


    Two games, two clean sheets, and five goals scored. The team was clicking, the confidence was growing, and suddenly, whispers of a promotion push didn¡¯t sound so far-fetched anymore.


    Most football clubs in England use stadiums that were originally built in the late 19th to mid-20th century, with many constructed between the 1880s and 1930s. These stadiums have often undergone extensive renovations or complete rebuilds to meet modern standards.


    A major change came after the Taylor Report, following the Hillsborough disaster, which mandated that all top-flight football stadiums must be converted into all-seater venues. As a result, in the early 1990s, most clubs were forced to rebuild or significantly modify their stadiums.


    For City, this transition was no small matter.


    Their historic ground, once capable of holding 85,000 roaring fans, had to comply with the new seating rules¡ªresulting in a drastic reduction in capacity to just 35,000. It was a difficult but necessary adaptation, mirroring the broader transformation of English football.


    In fact, during the Lee Consortium¡¯s reign, Manchester City faced even greater setbacks. When renovations on the Kippax Stand were abruptly halted, the club was forced to further reduce its stadium capacity¡ªfrom 35,000 down to just 28,000.


    It wasn¡¯t until recently, under Richard¡¯s leadership, that the original 35,000 capacity was fully restored following the long-overdue completion of the Kippax redevelopment.


    Basically, according to Manchester City¡¯s financial records, the entire transformation of Maine Road came at a cost of ¡ê29 million, marking a bold and crucial investment in the club¡¯s future.


    City¡¯s next opponent, Stoke City, found themselves in a similar situation. However, instead of renovating, they chose to build a new stadium, leaving their historic Victoria Ground after 119 years.


    The decision was driven by the fact that their stadium was surrounded by residential buildings, making renovations and expansions virtually impossible.


    This forced the club to seek new land for their construction projects, and sooner or later, Maine Road would share the same fate as the Victoria Ground.


    Despite the shared challenges, Cityzens and the Potters have little animosity between them, so when O¡¯Neill stood at the side of the Victoria Ground touchline, directing the game, the atmosphere in the stadium felt oddly quiet.


    "PHWEEE!"


    The match began, and O¡¯Neill realized he had overestimated the situation.


    From nearly the first minute, City seized control of the game.


    Though Stoke City was playing at home, their attacking efforts lacked intensity. Their traditional long-ball tactics meant the ball often flew from their half into City¡¯s defensive zone.


    This was essentially the same style as Brentford¡¯s tactics.


    Moreover, since their entire attack was essentially built around a lone striker, Stoke¡¯s offense lacked variety and depth.


    Most of the time, when their forwards failed to break through and the ball became loose, it immediately turned into an opportunity for City to launch dangerous counterattacks.


    What helped Stoke, however, was their extremely conservative defense, with defenders staying compact and four midfielders lingering back.


    City couldn¡¯t break into Stoke¡¯s penalty area.


    "BOOO!"


    The frustration was growing¡ªnot just on the pitch, but in the stands as well. The fans began to boo loudly, fed up with Stoke City¡¯s ultra-defensive tactics.


    It was clear to everyone: Stoke had completely parked the bus.


    Nine men sat deep behind the ball, barely venturing out of their own half. Every City attempt was met with a wall of bodies, and the game had turned into a one-sided siege.


    They dominated possession, passed patiently, tried switching flanks, and played through the middle¡ªbut nothing seemed to work.


    O¡¯Neill stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. He knew something had to change¡ªand fast.


    "Why is it so difficult today?"


    O¡¯Neill frowned as he looked toward all the City players, and then, as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head, he found the answer.


    Unlike the dazzling days when City¡¯s attack was on fire, especially down their left side, which was lethal with players like Roberto Carlos and Ronaldo, today both of them seemed completely out of sync, visibly struggling.


    O¡¯Neill lowered his head to glance at his watch. It was only the 33rd minute, and they were already off pace?


    He turned toward Robertson, his assistant, and asked, "What¡¯s going on with Ronaldo and Roberto?"


    Robertson, hearing this, looked just as confused. "They were fine in training, right?"


    O¡¯Neill nodded, but the worry was still etched on his face. He turned his attention back to the match, trying to make sense of what was happening on the field.


    As the match progressed, O¡¯Neill became more and more restless. He glanced toward Stoke¡¯s manager, and the more he watched him, the more his mind raced with thoughts.


    He was conflicted¡ªwas Stoke seeking a counterattack, or were they simply trying to settle for a draw in this match?


    "What do you want to do now?" Robertson asked carefully, looking at O¡¯Neill.


    One goal. Just one goal, and they¡¯re done for.


    Regardless of the situation, O¡¯Neill knew he had no choice. He needed to change his tactics now, or he¡¯d regret it deeply if City ended up with a draw. He couldn¡¯t accept it. After all, they had really dominated the match.


    The game continued, and soon, a collective gasp echoed through the stands.


    It happened during a tussle for possession.


    Ronaldo lost the ball, but Van Bommel was quick to recover it. He passed to Neil Lennon, who played a clever one-two with Larsson.


    "Beautiful!" Richard, from the stands, clapped his hands in approval of the slick tiki-taka play.


    Unfortunately, Larsson¡¯s shot was blocked by Stoke¡¯s center-back. But, unbeknownst to everyone else, Roberto Carlos had found space on the edge of the penalty area and fired a volley.


    The stands held their breath, waiting for what seemed like a perfect strike, but the ball sailed just over the crossbar and behind the net.


    Richard slumped in his seat, shaking his head


    The first half was drawing to a close, and the score was still 0-0.


    As the players filtered back into the dressing room, the silence was deafening.


    Many of them avoided eye contact, their frustration obvious. Sweat clung to their brows, and though they¡¯d dominated the half, the scoreboard remained unmoved.


    O¡¯Neill let out a heavy sigh, a sense of helplessness settling over him. It had come to this¡ªand he knew he couldn¡¯t afford a loss at this stage.


    It wasn¡¯t just about the points anymore; it was about pride, momentum, and belief. Losing a match they had clearly dominated, simply because they couldn¡¯t convert their chances, would deal a serious blow to the team¡¯s morale.


    O¡¯Neill waited until everyone had settled. Then he stood in front of them.


    "Alright. Listen up."


    The room turned to him.


    "You¡¯ve done well to control the tempo. Possession? Ours. Territory? Ours. But control doesn¡¯t win games¡ªgoals do."


    He paused, letting that sink in before continuing.


    "Stoke isn¡¯t here to play. They¡¯ve parked the bus, and they¡¯re praying we lose patience. But we¡¯re not going to hand them this match. We¡¯re going to outthink them. We¡¯re going to stay sharp."


    He pointed toward a diagram he¡¯d sketched. Arrows crisscrossed the pitch, especially around the flanks.


    "We need to stretch their back line. Ronaldo, Roberto¡ªwhat¡¯s going on out there? You¡¯ve only played 30 minutes, and you¡¯re already gasping for air? We need more energy, more intensity. Come on!"


    "Boss, there¡¯s no space to move, no room to create." Ronaldo replied.


    Roberto Carlos nodded in agreement. "Every time we try to push up, they¡¯ve already dropped ten behind the ball."


    O¡¯Neill sighed at their excuse but nodded anyway. "Alright, then I¡¯ll give you one chance. Ronaldo, I want movement. Make those defenders uncomfortable. Drag them wide. Create space for Henrik. Our midfield will push up with you¡ªno more hesitation."


    His gaze swept across the room.


    "Don¡¯t let their game plan frustrate you¡ªlet it expose them. Play with discipline, not desperation."


    He turned back to the players, his voice quieter now. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "We¡¯ve trained for this. Now it¡¯s time to show why we¡¯re different. Let¡¯s go out there and take this."


    The room, once heavy and still, now buzzed with renewed purpose as the players stood¡ªfists clenched, heads held high.


    "PHWEEEE!"


    The second half had begun.


    Unfortunately, three minutes into the second half, the situation remained unchanged. If anything, it was Stoke City who capitalized on a rare opening.


    A quick break down the left flank saw Stoke¡¯s winger, aware that Cafu was in front of him, whip a high, curling cross into the penalty box early on.


    It was a dangerous delivery, aimed directly at the Stoke striker, who was perfectly positioned just inside the six-yard box.


    The striker, a towering figure, launched himself into the air, meeting the ball with a forceful header aimed at the bottom corner.


    For a split second, it looked like the ball was destined for the back of the net.


    Richard held his breath, and the crowd did the same as the ball flew toward Lehmann¡¯s goal. But then, out of nowhere, the German goalkeeper sprang into action with cat-like reflexes.


    In a single motion, Lehmann stretched his leg, extending it as far as possible, just barely getting the tip of his boot to make contact with the ball.


    It was a stunning save.


    The ball spun off his foot, deflecting away from the goal and out for a corner. The crowd exploded in a mix of disbelief and admiration, while commentators were left momentarily speechless.


    "Unbelievable!" the commentator finally broke the silence. "Jens Lehmann, what a save! That¡¯s world-class reflexes right there. He¡¯s practically levitated to keep City in this match!"


    O¡¯Neill, watching from the sideline, clenched his jaw, his heart racing. But after seeing the save, he sighed in relief.


    For the next, The two forwards, Larsson and Ronaldo, were constantly making active runs to pull defenders out of position. Meanwhile, Neil Lennon, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu seemed to be growing increasingly despondent, taking long-range shots despite knowing the chances were slim.


    They were frustrated.


    O¡¯Neill furrowed his brow, watching the scene unfold. He turned and beckoned for Solskj?r and Shevchenko to come over.


    Shevchenko, who had been intently focused on the match, noticed the boss signaling to him. He looked surprised and pointed to himself as if asking, ¡¯Me?¡¯


    O¡¯Neill nodded, and Solskj?r immediately stood up and pulled Shevchenko with him.


    Both players quickly stood beside O¡¯Neill.


    "Do you want to play?" he asked, looking directly at them, especially Shevchenko.


    "Of course!" Solskj?r replied immediately.


    O¡¯Neill turned to Shevchenko, who was still in a daze, surprised that he was being called to play.


    After a nudge from Solskj?r, Shevchenko snapped out of it and responded, "Absolutely!"


    "What will you do when you get on the pitch?" O¡¯Neill asked, his gaze intense.


    "To score, of course!"


    "How are you going to score?" O¡¯Neill asked. "The ball won¡¯t just roll to your feet, and it won¡¯t magically fly into the opponent¡¯s goalmouth if you touch it casually."


    Solskj?r fell silent, his mind turning over the question. Shevchenko remained quiet as well, unsure of how to respond.

 Chapter 172: Baby-faced Assassin!

    Chapter 172: Baby-faced Assassin!O¡¯Neill looked at both of them, his expression serious. He spoke in a calm but focused tone.


    "Ole, you¡¯re a smart player. Even when you¡¯re not on the field, you can read the game. But I need you to focus on one thing."


    He paused for a moment, making sure Solskj?r was following.


    "Just wait for the ball to come to you," O¡¯Neill continued. "Get into the right position, and when it comes, make sure you¡¯re ready to take your shot. Don¡¯t get caught up trying to beat their defenders or win every battle. The only thing that matters is putting that ball in the back of the net. If you do that, you¡¯ve done your job. Everything else doesn¡¯t matter. Understand?"


    Solskj?r gave a firm nod, the determination in his eyes showing that he fully understood the task at hand.


    O¡¯Neill shifted his gaze to Shevchenko, who had been listening intently. "And Andriy," he said, his tone firm yet filled with trust, "this is your moment. I need you to stay sharp, find those gaps in their defense, and pull them out of position. If the opportunity comes to break through, make it count. Don¡¯t hesitate."


    One thing O¡¯Neill had noticed during their training sessions¡ªespecially with Shevchenko¡ªwas how well he could use both feet!


    It made him more versatile, more dangerous in attack. Though Shevchenko wasn¡¯t as nimble or quick as someone like Ronaldo, but he made up for it with his strength in dribbling.


    Shevchenko nodded, a sense of calm confidence returning to him. He was ready.


    "Boss, I understand,"


    O¡¯Neill patted their backs encouragingly. "We know what we¡¯re capable of. So, your job is simple: disrupt their defense, just like you always do in training. Now, go out there and show them what we¡¯re made of."


    PHWEEE!


    At the 55th minute, the commentator¡¯s voice rang out, loud and clear: "Here comes the change. Ronaldo and Henrik Larsson are coming off, and in their place¡ªOle Gunnar Solskj?r and Andriy Shevchenko."


    As the substitution was announced, Ronaldo¡¯s frustration was impossible to miss. His shoulders drooped, and his expression tightened with annoyance.


    The usually confident and fiery forward, so accustomed to being the one leading the charge, couldn¡¯t hide his displeasure as he trudged off the pitch.


    "Boss, just ten more minutes¡ªno, five! I can score," Ronaldo said, almost pleading. His eyes were locked on O¡¯Neill, and there was a sense of frustration in his tone. He wanted a chance to make an impact, to be the one to turn the game around.


    "Stop being childish," O¡¯Neill said, his voice firm. "There are still forty-four matches left in the league. I could let you play a full ninety minutes in every game, but at that rate, you¡¯d probably only make it halfway through the season. Is that really what you want?"


    The words were a reminder of the bigger picture, the need for patience and balance.


    O¡¯Neill knew Ronaldo¡¯s hunger to play, but he also understood the importance of managing players¡¯ fitness throughout a long, grueling season¡ªespecially after what he had just witnessed, with both him and Roberto Carlos already gasping for air before the first half even ended.


    "Jobson!" O¡¯Neill turned to Richard Jobson, the left-back sitting on the bench, and instructed, "Warm up."


    Richard Jobson, who had been waiting patiently, sprang to his feet, nodding quickly. He had been keeping an eye on the game, knowing his time might come. His boots were already on, but he quickly ran to the touchline, stretching his legs and limbering up in preparation.


    As the match between entered the 80th minute of the second half, almost everyone believed that the two teams would settle for a draw.


    Even Richard, seated in the stands, felt that a handshake between the two sides would be a fair conclusion, given the way the match had unfolded.


    Stoke had set up camp deep in their own half, essentially with ten men behind the ball, frustrating City¡¯s attempts at breaking them down.


    But sometimes, surprises come quietly, when you least expect them.


    Cafu, stationed on the right, received the ball once again.


    Throughout the previous eighty minutes, his usual approach was to deliver a cross from the wing at a 45-degree angle or make a precise through ball, aiming to exploit the gaps between Stoke¡¯s full-backs and center-backs.


    It had been his signature move, a reliable weapon in City¡¯s attack. But this time, something was different.


    Cafu, with a quick feint that fooled the oncoming defender, shifted the ball to his left. Rather than continuing down the wing, he dribbled inward, cutting across the field and moving closer to the center.


    His eyes scanned the area ahead, reading the situation with precision. Then, like a chess player making the final move, he saw it¡ªan opening.


    Without hesitation, he passed the ball through the gap, sending it toward the right side of the penalty arc. It was a subtle shift in approach, a calculated risk, and it had the potential to unlock the defense in a way no one had seen coming.


    Stoke City¡¯s midfielder caught sight of the pass and immediately spun around, his eyes widening in shock.


    ¡¯Solskj?r?! When did he get there?!¡¯


    Since coming on for Larsson, Solskj?r had mostly stayed near the edge of the penalty area, drifting around and frustrating Stoke¡¯s defenders. He hadn¡¯t posed a serious threat up until that point¡ªuntil now. His movement had been subtle, almost unnoticeable, as he maneuvered into position, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.


    And this was it.


    He suddenly appeared at the edge of the penalty area, unmarked by any defenders.


    With his body half-turned toward the goal, Solskj?r felt a calmness as he faced Cafu¡¯s pass.


    Having observed the flow of the game from the bench, finding himself in this position wasn¡¯t accidental!


    This was the space where there was usually room to maneuver!


    This was the area where, essentially, all the Stoke defenders had their backs turned. It was a moment of opportunity, a small window of time when the defense was caught off guard, focused more on the ball rather than the positioning of the players around them.


    The penalty area was crowded, and Solskj?r knew he had no space to dribble, not even enough time to control the ball and turn. Thus, he had already decided what to do the moment before receiving the ball.


    Shoot!


    He had to take the shot!


    His mind was set¡ªhe would strike first time, no hesitation.


    This wasn¡¯t a time for overthinking, but for executing with precision. The angle was tight, the pressure immense, but in this instant, everything felt clear.


    Solskj?r met the rolling ball with the inside of his right foot, delicately curving it toward the top right corner of the Stoke goal. The strike was perfect¡ªa blend of precision and power.


    As soon as the ball left his foot, Solskj?r lifted his head, eyes locked on the trajectory, watching it soar like a rainbow toward its destination.


    But in the next heartbeat, his expression shifted from hope to disbelief.


    The ball seemed destined for the net, but...


    It smashed against the crossbar with a resounding thud and ricocheted back into the field.


    "F*ck! How much luck does Stoke have?!"


    From the stands, Richard cursed under his breath, unable to hide his frustration. Around him, a wave of gasps rolled through the crowd.


    The thud of the ball hitting the crossbar still echoed in the cold evening air, hanging like unfinished business.


    Down on the pitch, Solskj?r froze¡ªjaw clenched, fists half-raised. That should¡¯ve gone in. It deserved to go in. The goal had been right there. He felt the frustration rising, about to boil over¡ª


    Then he saw it.


    His expression snapped into focus. He raised his right arm and slapped it with his left, spinning toward the referee. "Handball! Ref, handball!"


    The penalty area was a mess¡ªjammed with players, tension, and confusion. Amid the scramble, one of Stoke¡¯s defenders had been caught off guard. The ball had ricocheted straight at him from the crossbar, and in the split-second panic, it struck his arm. He hadn¡¯t meant it¡ªbut that didn¡¯t matter.


    The ball had touched a hand. In the box.


    And everyone knew what that could mean.


    The other City players immediately joined in¡ªhands shooting up into the air, voices rising in unison.


    "Ref! That¡¯s a handball!"


    "Come on, ref¡ªclear as day!"


    "He blocked it with his arm!"


    They swarmed the edge of the penalty area¡ªnot aggressively, but with the urgency of players who knew a critical moment had just slipped through their fingers¡ªunless it could still be salvaged.


    The referee stepped forward slowly, eyes scanning the scene. Then, he raised his whistle to his lips.


    Richard leaned forward in his seat, barely breathing. The crowd around him buzzed with confusion and anticipation. Half the stadium was shouting for a penalty; the other half held its breath, hoping the ref would wave it away.


    PHWEEE!


    The referee pointed to the penalty spot.


    The stadium erupted¡ªone side in outrage, the other in pure euphoria.


    Solskj?r stepped forward, the ball in his hands, his expression calm but focused. The noise around him was deafening¡ªchants, whistles, and cries from both sets of fans merging into a chaotic roar¡ªbut inside his head, there was silence.


    He placed the ball gently on the spot, adjusting it with the care of a craftsman. Then he took a few steps back, eyes fixed on the goalkeeper, who was bouncing on his toes, trying to read any hint of where the shot might go.


    The referee blew his whistle.


    Solskj?r inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly.


    In one smooth motion, he ran up¡ªa short, composed stride¡ªand struck the ball low and hard to the keeper¡¯s right.


    The Stoke keeper guessed the wrong way.


    The net rippled.


    GOAL!


    Victoria Ground erupted in celebration.


    Solskj?r wheeled away, fists pumping, roaring as his teammates swarmed him. The deadlock was broken. City had taken the lead.


    Stoke City 0 - 1 Manchester City.


    After the penalty was scored, Richard slumped back in his seat, exhaling deeply.


    No matter how close the game had been, winning always felt better than settling for a draw¡ªespecially against a team that loved to park the bus like this.


    With just eight minutes left on the clock, Stoke¡ªnow trailing at home¡ªhad no choice but to abandon their ultra-defensive setup. After all, what¡¯s the point of parking the bus when you¡¯re already a goal down?


    Their strategy quickly shifted into a high-risk, all-out attack mode¡ªa kind of footballing kamikaze. They launched wave after wave of an attacks, but each time they were snuffed out by City¡¯s relentless press.


    Then came the 92nd minute¡ªdeep into stoppage time.


    Rio Ferdinand rose to meet a long ball and headed it wide toward the left. On the opposite side, Richard Jobson, full of energy after coming on late, cleared the ball down the left, turning defense into a lightning-fast counter.


    The ball fell perfectly to Solskj?r near the center circle. With one swift motion, he headed it backward into space.


    Just a few yards away, Shevchenko was already on the move, sprinting forward as if he was about to smash a first-time volley.


    Stoke¡¯s defenders panicked. They turned and braced themselves for a thunderous strike.


    But the shot never came.


    Instead, Shevchenko, showing his skill, slowed down and simply tapped the ball forward with a soft touch¡ªjust enough to let it roll into open space.


    And who was waiting there?


    Solskj?r¡ªcompletely unmarked.


    Once again.


    There¡¯s a reason why he was called the Baby Assassin.


    With no defenders in sight and only the keeper to beat, Solskj?r didn¡¯t rush. He stayed calm, took a touch outside the box, and slotted a low shot into the bottom right corner with clinical precision.


    Stoke City 0 ¨C 2 Manchester City. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In less than ten minutes, Solskj?r had transformed the game.


    He broke the deadlock, drew a penalty, scored again, and turned a frustrating draw into a solid away win¡ªjust when City needed it most. It was a late show of brilliance that not only secured all three points but also injected fresh belief into the squad ahead of the coming fixtures.

 Chapter 173: Netscape Problem

    Chapter 173: Netscape Problem"City played with solid discipline today; we didn¡¯t just win because of our performance, but also because luck was on our side. Let¡¯s hope it stays that way," a middle-aged man remarked thoughtfully as he reflected on the game.


    As usual, just before the final whistle, Richard took a moment to engage with the fans. He walked along the stands, casually asking their thoughts on City. However, unlike the Brentford game, where people recognized him, this time he stayed anonymous, with a scarf wrapped around his neck, acting like a hooligan.


    PHWEEEE!


    The referee¡¯s final whistle echoed across the stadium.


    The fans erupted in applause, the atmosphere electric, especially the Cityzens, who were thrilled with the final moments of the match.


    The last ten minutes had been a spectacle¡ªtense, dramatic, and ultimately rewarding for those who had come to watch.


    With back-to-back victories, City remained at the top of the rankings. In the same week¡ªthree days later, to be precise¡ªCity would welcome their first-round opponent in the League Cup at home: Plymouth, a team from the third tier.


    After three days of rest, Manchester City was ready, but Richard was less concerned about that for now.


    Because just now, his current partner, who is in the United States, his cash cow, Netscape, their founder just called him anxiously.


    "Hello?"


    "It¡¯s me, Jim. Sorry for the sudden call, but can you come over here as soon as possible?"


    Hearing the unmistakable panic in Jim Clark¡¯s voice, Richard narrowed his eyes.


    "What¡¯s going on? Is something wrong?"


    "Well... we might have to shut down the company."


    "...What?"


    With no other option, Richard, Adam Lewis, and Marina Granovskaia who currently serves as his personal secretary, quickly made their way to the United States in a hurry.


    Inside the Gulfstream IV business jet, cruising at 10,000 feet, Richard sat in a wide seat, gazing out the window in deep thought.


    In front of him were Adam Lewis, and Marina, who was assisting Lewis by reviewing the latest news and information about Netscape.


    As soon as they received Clark¡¯s call, the three of them immediately chartered the jet and were now on their way to San Francisco, the heart of Silicon Valley.


    At that moment, Lewis, sitting across from him, placed the thick stack of documents he had been holding onto the table and spoke.


    "Phew. This isn¡¯t going to be easy."


    "Do you think it will work against us?" Richard asked, turning his head to face him.


    Lewis, removing his glasses after reviewing the lawsuit, replied, "Bringing in NCSA¡¯s personnel is a problem, but the biggest issue is that the framework of the new web browser under development is essentially identical to Mosaic¡¯s."


    "Well, Jim Clark was the one who came up with the idea for Mosaic and led its development, so it makes sense."


    Lewis then briefed Richard on the issue: When NCSA learned that Jim Clark had started developing a new web browser in Silicon Valley, they immediately filed a lawsuit against Netscape, claiming intellectual property infringement.


    "That¡¯s true, but as you know, since NCSA holds all the relevant patents, including the source code, if this goes to trial, it¡¯ll be hard for us to win."


    "How likely do you think it is that we¡¯ll win?"


    Lewis hesitated for a moment before answering.


    "To be honest, it¡¯s less than 50%, maybe even lower."


    "If the chances of winning aren¡¯t even half, that means it¡¯s going to be difficult to win the trial."


    Adam Lewis¡¯s role in accompanying Richard to Silicon Valley was to provide accurate legal advice, and he spoke candidly without hesitation.


    "That¡¯s correct. The best option would be to reach an amicable settlement with NCSA."


    Historically, when NCSA filed the lawsuit, Jim Clark reacted angrily and took the case to trial.


    "But in the end, as he just mentioned, it was settled through negotiation."


    From Clark¡¯s perspective, as the one who came up with the idea and led the development, it must have been frustrating. But since NCSA held all the intellectual property rights, it had always been a fight they couldn¡¯t win from the start.


    Even knowing all of this, Richard had chosen to invest in Netscape alongside Jim Clark because there was value beyond this dispute.


    "More importantly, NCSA still didn¡¯t fully understand the immense value of the Mosaic web browser they had in their hands."


    The lawsuit filed this time was, of course, partly about protecting intellectual property. However, the bigger issue was the resentment over the fact that they weren¡¯t just trying to develop a new web browser on their own but also took a large number of staff from the research lab.


    "What do they want?"


    A million had already been invested, with another million following, and now it seemed like the company might close its doors before it even had a chance to go public.


    Just a little more to go!


    And Richard was definitely considering selling his shares in Netscape when its stock price was at its highest point in history.


    "They¡¯re demanding that we either stop developing the web browser based on Mosaic or acknowledge the intellectual property rights and pay a royalty of 50 cents per browser sold."


    Hearing this, Richard let out a brief, ironic laugh.


    "50% royalties? That¡¯s basically telling us not to make it at all."


    The internet was still in its infancy, and there was no real business model to speak of. As a result, programs like Mosaic were, for the most part, being used for free, except by corporations.


    Netscape was different, though. With Richard holding shares in other internet companies like Infoseek, GeoCities, and Register.com, Netscape had found a way to make money.


    Infoseek struck a deal with Netscape through Richard to become the default search engine on Netscape Navigator.


    GeoCities, on the other hand, partnered with Netscape to drive traffic by allowing users to create their own websites for free while offering premium paid hosting services.


    As for Register.com, it was a domain registrar that helped individuals, corporations, and other institutions register domain names for their websites. Through this partnership, Netscape made it easy for users to find and register domain names via Register.com, earning a share of the revenue from those registrations.


    Within four months of its release, Netscape had already captured three-quarters of the browser market, becoming the main browser for internet users in a remarkably short time due to its superiority over competitors like Mosaic.


    This made NCSA jealous and eager to cause trouble.


    A year!


    How was that even possible?!


    That¡¯s why, for Richard, the idea of paying a 50-cent royalty per browser didn¡¯t sit well¡ªespecially since he was the one who had brought Infoseek, GeoCities, and Register.com into partnerships with Netscape. He had no intention of being taken advantage of.


    He even considered calling a shareholders¡¯ meeting to withdraw those partnerships from Netscape entirely, in case the negotiations didn¡¯t lead to a solution that worked for him and Maddox Capital.


    "This is an unreasonable demand, and NCSA knows it," Richard said.


    As he crossed his arms, Lewis calmly continued, "If we file a counter-lawsuit and drag things out, we can probably negotiate a fair settlement."


    That was the most practical approach, so Richard gave a slight nod and said, "We don¡¯t have time to get bogged down by this. We need to hear Clark¡¯s thoughts too, so let¡¯s meet, decide on a response plan, and come up with a rough figure for the settlement."


    "Understood."


    After hearing his response, Richard turned his gaze to the side and looked out through the round window, watching an endless expanse of fields stretch beneath a blanket of white clouds.


    A little while later, after landing at San Francisco Airport and disembarking from the business jet, Richard, along with Lewis and Marina, got into the waiting car and headed straight for Silicon Valley.


    Netscape, which had recently received another million-dollar investment from Richard, had leased an entire floor of an office building on the outskirts of the Valley.


    In the meantime, the team had grown rapidly, with the number of employees now exceeding 40. While a few new hires had come on board, most of the staff were key personnel from NCSA who had previously worked with Clark on the development of Mosaic.


    Arriving at the new Netscape office, Richard was momentarily stunned.


    "This is the company?"


    Everyone looked like they had just rolled out of bed¡ªdisheveled clothes, messy hair, bleary eyes. It felt more like a college dorm during finals week than the headquarters of a multi-million-dollar startup.


    Worse, the place was a complete mess. Cubicles overflowed with clutter: empty coffee cups, crumpled paper, half-eaten snacks, soda cans, and worn-out pizza boxes. The air was thick with the smell of caffeine, stale takeout, and raw ambition. And yet, despite the chaos, the room buzzed with a strange kind of energy¡ªhyper-focused and obsessive.


    "You¡¯re not seriously living here, are you?" Richard asked, turning to Clark with a skeptical look.


    Clark shrugged, completely unfazed.


    "Why not? We¡¯ve got a deadline. Can¡¯t afford to waste time. Besides," he added with a bitter laugh, "NCSA¡¯s already giving me enough headaches for a lifetime."


    Without a hint of embarrassment, he grabbed a pile of blankets off the office couch, rolled them into a ball, and stuffed them into a corner. Then he motioned for Richard and his team to take a seat.


    Richard shook his head as he sat down.


    "I get that the launch is important, but you can¡¯t burn out your team before you even cross the finish line. Push like this for too long, and you¡¯ll all crash."


    Clark waved it off.


    "This is nothing. Back when we were building Mosaic, I lived in the lab. Slept under my desk for weeks. You just get used to it."


    But his tone suddenly shifted, and his face darkened. His jaw clenched, eyes sharp.


    "We poured our hearts into Mosaic¡ªme and the team. And now NCSA has the nerve to sue us? After everything?" His voice rose. "They pushed me out, and now they want to bleed us dry!"


    The anger in his voice was raw and personal.


    Trying to ground the conversation, Richard asked quietly,"Did you go through the lawsuit?"


    Clark nodded grimly.


    "They want 50 cents per browser in royalties. Fifty cents! Do they think we¡¯re made of money? That would kill us before we even break even!"


    Richard exhaled, calm but firm.


    "Honestly, I saw this coming. Getting mad won¡¯t change anything."


    Clark, still visibly worked up, softened a bit at Richard¡¯s steady tone. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he looked over with an apologetic expression.


    "I¡¯m sorry, Richard. You believed in me. You put real money into this¡ªand now..."


    Richard just shrugged. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "It¡¯s better that this happened now, before we go public. If we¡¯d launched and then got hit with this, the fallout would¡¯ve been a lot worse."


    Clark nodded slowly, processing the thought. But doubt lingered in his eyes.


    "So... what do we do now? NCSA isn¡¯t bluffing. If they say they¡¯ll sue, they will."


    Richard looked to his side at Adam Lewis, who had been quietly listening the entire time.


    "That¡¯s his department," he said. "Let¡¯s hear what the lawyer thinks."


    Clark turned his full attention to Lewis, who straightened in his seat, cleared his throat, and began outlining the strategy.


    "We have two options. First, we file a countersuit in California federal court. Now, yes, NCSA owns the IP on paper¡ªbut Jim here played a massive role in Mosaic¡¯s creation. That counts for something."


    "And the second option?" Clark asked, his eyes narrowing.


    "Settlement," Lewis said plainly.


    "Absolutely not!" Clark snapped, nearly leaping out of his chair. "I will never bow to those bastards. Never."


    Lewis remained calm.


    "I understand where you¡¯re coming from. But legally speaking, NCSA holds all the cards. If we take this to court and lose, the damages could be brutal. They could even push to delay or block the release of the new browser."


    "No!" Clark shouted, fists clenched. His pride¡ªand rage¡ªwere boiling over.


    "Look, we know the situation. NCSA¡¯s claim is based on the fact that we used the Mosaic framework to build Netscape. But that¡¯s not how it happened. The Netscape web browser doesn¡¯t use any of NCSA¡¯s Mosaic code! We¡¯ve completely rewritten the core!"


    Richard was taken aback by the declaration, and even Lewis was confused. This was different from what his client had told him.


    "You all made it all from scratch?"


    "Yes, exactly!" Clark nodded adamantly as he picked up his laptop and showed it to the three in front of him.


    "To avoid trademark ownership problems with NCSA, we did not use any NCSA Mosaic code. The internal codename for the company¡¯s browser was Mozilla, which stood for ¡¯Mosaic Killer,¡¯ as the company¡¯s goal was to displace NCSA Mosaic as the world¡¯s number one web browser."


    They then saw a cartoon Godzilla-like lizard mascot, which went well with the theme of crushing the competition.


    "..."


    Richard then turned towards Lewis. "How is it?"


    Lewis thought for a moment before answering, "If we can establish that Netscape¡¯s browser is not a derivative of Mosaic¡ªif we make the distinction clear to the public and the courts¡ªit¡¯ll strengthen our position. But that means we¡¯ll have to show that the technology is distinct and that the development of Netscape didn¡¯t rely on any proprietary code from NCSA."


    "Don¡¯t worry about that," Clark shook his head. "I can tweak the code enough so the original doesn¡¯t leak."


    After hearing that, Lewis nodded. "It won¡¯t be easy, but we¡¯ll make it happen. However, I was thinking of taking full control of the counter-suit. Would that be okay with you?"


    "You¡¯re going to handle it personally?"


    "Yes."


    "Then thank you very much," Clark said. "I¡¯ve been wondering how to deal with those guys. If you¡¯re stepping in, I¡¯d be really grateful."


    Only then did Richard, Lewis, and Marina realize that these guys had called them there asking for help not because they couldn¡¯t handle NCSA¡ªbut because they were just too lazy and probably didn¡¯t even want to leave the office!


    Richard rubbed his temples after realizing he¡¯d been tricked. He had thought these guys needed help, but it turned out they just wanted someone to clean up the mess for them!


    "Alright, alright. By the way, what¡¯s the plan for going public once the lawsuit is settled? Does that mean once the case is resolved, Netscape will go public right away?"


    Suddenly, Richard felt an urgent desire to cash out his shares in Netscape!

 Chapter 174: Zambrotta’s Versatility

    Chapter 174: Zambrotta¡¯s VersatilityRichard handed the entire Netscape situation over to Adam Lewis, entrusting him with full legal authority to manage the case and support Clark through the turbulent negotiations and looming court battle.


    Lewis agreed to remain in the United States, taking up a temporary base in Silicon Valley to stay close to the action and monitor every development firsthand.


    Meanwhile, Richard and Marina caught the next flight back to England.


    Their departure was quiet but not without tension¡ªRichard didn¡¯t like leaving things unresolved, but he also understood that dragging himself into the daily grind of the legal mess wouldn¡¯t help matters.


    Moreover, he wanted to focus on getting City promoted to the Premier League before anything else.


    After Stoke City, they finally entered their first cup competition.


    In this match, Richard saw O¡¯Neill rotate the entire squad, fielding a team of substitutes. This was because O¡¯Neill wanted to rest the main team after using a back-to-back pressing strategy against Brentford, Barnsley, and Stoke City.


    Goalkeeper: Richard Wright


    Defenders: Richard Jobson, Keith Curle, Marco Materazzi, Steve Finnan


    Midfielders: Keith Gillespie, Robbie Savage, Theodoros Zagorakis, Steve Lomas


    Forwards: Ole Gunnar Solskj?r, Andriy Shevchenko


    Throughout the game, O¡¯Neill kept shouting from the sidelines, constantly telling the players where to move, as the ball seemed to fly back and forth through the air.


    Nonetheless, the City players showcased the qualities he wanted to see. However, in this match, the substitutes revealed several flaws, allowing Plymouth¡¯s attacking combinations to breach City¡¯s defense comfortably from time to time.


    Basically, City had far more possession throughout the match, but Plymouth had more clear-cut scoring opportunities.


    Ultimately, City found themselves trailing 2¨C1 at halftime, forcing O¡¯Neill to make the bold decision to bring on his game-changers¡ªRonaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu¡ªto turn the tide.


    Ronaldo, still frustrated by being substituted just 10 minutes into the second half in the previous match, seemed determined to make a statement.


    It was as if a hunger had ignited in him.


    After he came on, everything changed. His relentless offensive forays made Plymouth experience what could only be described as hell.


    Manchester City 4 ¨C 2 Plymouth


    Ronaldo emerged as the standout player, securing a magnificent hat-trick, while Shevchenko also played his part, netting a crucial goal in the first half.


    With four consecutive wins to kick off the new season, the team was brimming with confidence and riding a wave of high morale.


    The League Cup mattered¡ªbut Richards had made one thing clear from day one: automatic promotion was the priority.


    No playoffs. No last-day drama.


    They were going up as champions.


    Now, City¡¯s focus shifted back to the league.


    In their first month of First Division football, City played like a team that truly belonged at the top¡ªand they were determined to keep that momentum going.


    Up next were crucial clashes against Bolton, Reading, West Brom, Burnley, and Watford, before facing their first FA Cup Preliminary Round.


    The dressing room falls quiet as O¡¯Neill steps forward, eyes scanning the room.


    "Bolton isn¡¯t just another opponent. Last season, they finished mid-table¡ªbut don¡¯t let that fool you. They gave Derby County and Leicester City all kinds of problems... and those teams got promoted to the Premier League. They¡¯re experienced. They know how to dig deep."


    He pauses, locking eyes with his players.


    "But guess what?"


    His tone hardens, rising with intensity.


    "So do we."


    The opening minutes set the tone.


    O¡¯Neill fielded his strongest lineup¡ªeveryone was well-rested, and he wasn¡¯t taking any chances for a match of this importance.


    From the opening whistle, it was a high-intensity affair.


    Bolton pressed aggressively, zeroing in on Roberto Carlos and Cafu, desperately trying to shut down City¡¯s wide threats and cut off the supply lines from both flanks.


    It was a scrappy, physical battle. Neither side was willing to give an inch. But City remained composed.


    They moved the ball with purpose¡ªpatient, deliberate¡ªwaiting for that one clear opening.


    And in the 37th minute, they found it.


    Neil Lennon collected the ball on the right, drove past his marker, and surged into the box.


    A sharp cut inside. A quick one-two with Larsson. The ball was returned to Lennon in stride.


    Perfect link-up play.


    Then¡ªcalm and precise¡ªa low, clinical finish into the bottom corner.


    Manchester City 1¨C0 Bolton Wanderers F.C


    But Bolton didn¡¯t fold. They kept coming, kept probing for a way back.


    Early in the second half, Bolton found their breakthrough.


    A well-delivered corner caused chaos in the box¡ªbodies collided, the clearance was missed, and in the scramble, the ball fell kindly for a close-range finish.


    Manchester City 1¨C1 Bolton Wanderers F.C


    "Rio, calm¡ªcalm!" O¡¯Neill shouted from the touchline, motioning with both hands for composure as Rio Ferdinand, flustered, had rushed a clearance that slipped away and led to the equalizer.


    It was the first goal City had conceded in four games¡ªa streak of three consecutive clean sheets shattered.


    The question now: could they respond?


    74th minute.


    McNamara, with time and space in midfield, scanned the field. His eyes quickly found Ronaldo, who had already begun a well-timed run, darting behind the Bolton defense. With a subtle raise of his hand, Ronaldo signaled for the ball,


    McNamara didn¡¯t hesitate. With a flick of his foot, he played a perfectly weighted pass, slicing through the defense and putting the ball right into Ronaldo¡¯s path.


    Ronaldo, cool under pressure, took a calm first touch to control it.


    The keeper rushed out, but Ronaldo was already in control. He steadied himself, then, with precision and poise, slotted the ball past the keeper¡¯s outstretched arms.


    Full-Time: Manchester City 2¨C1 Bolton Wanderers F.C


    It wasn¡¯t their prettiest win, but it was the kind of win that proved they could handle tough games.


    The next match was against Reading.


    Back at Maine Road, City had one clear objective¡ªcontrol the game from the first whistle.


    And that¡¯s exactly what they did.


    From the very first minutes, Reading struggled to get a foothold.


    City¡¯s fullbacks were overlapping regularly, creating constant threats on the wings. Their passing was crisp, their movement sharp, and their pressing relentless.


    The breakthrough came inside the first 10 minutes.


    Cafu, dancing past his marker on the right, delivered a low, dangerous cross into the box.


    Larsson, perfectly positioned, was in the right place at the right time. He calmly tapped the ball home from close range.


    1¨C0.


    City didn¡¯t let up.


    They controlled possession with ease, moved the ball seamlessly, and suffocated Reading¡¯s attempts to counter.


    In the second half, Ronaldo shifted from provider to scorer.


    A quick cut inside, a shift onto his left foot¡ªand with precision, he curled the ball into the top corner.


    2¨C0.


    Full-Time: Manchester City 2¨C0 Reading.


    For the next three matches against West Brom, Burnley, and Watford, O¡¯Neill decided to experiment.


    Gianluca Zambrotta.


    Previously, in Como, he had been played as a striker, with the head coach hoping to utilize his physicality and height to win aerial duels. However, this type of physicality came at the cost of flexibility in his game, making Zambrotta more of a rigid target man¡ªone who, unfortunately, couldn¡¯t fully tap into his ambidextrous ability.


    Despite this, his tenacity, discipline, and stamina remained undeniable. Most importantly for O¡¯Neill, Zambrotta¡¯s renowned hard-working ethos was exactly what the team needed.


    Thanks to Richard¡¯s suggestion to try Zambrotta as a right-back, O¡¯Neill agreed¡ªbut knew the transition wouldn¡¯t be instant.


    From striker to right-back overnight?


    Not a chance. He needed time to adapt, to grow into the role.


    That¡¯s why, in the early stages of the experiment, O¡¯Neill deployed Zambrotta as a right midfielder¡ªa halfway step between attack and defense to help him adjust gradually. However, a flaw quickly became apparent. While Zambrotta¡¯s shots were unexpectedly powerful, his accuracy was poor, often wasting promising chances.


    "Trend-setting¡ªone of the first truly great attacking full-backs. Excellent at getting forward, but also very strong defensively," said John Robertson, offering his advice to O¡¯Neill on how best to use Zambrotta.


    As someone who had personally trained Cafu and Roberto Carlos, and worked closely with them, he felt that his entire perspective on the role had been shaped.


    At first, he subscribed to the traditional view¡ªthat full-backs should remain rigidly fixed in a flat back four, disciplined and defensively focused.


    Referencing their style of play in the Brazil, he worked hard to translate that kind of football into the current City setup. That¡¯s why City is feared not for their central or forward play¡ªunlike many traditional lower-league English clubs that rely on target men and poachers¡ªbut instead for their relentless threat down both flanks.


    "He¡¯s basically like Cafu," Robertson added. "Both have exceptional work rates. Zambrotta may not be as nimble or capable of delivering deadly crosses like Cafu, but he makes up for it with smart movement and sharp intuition. He consistently finds space in open areas, staying unmarked and away from danger."


    "We¡¯re working on his crossing," he continued. "After all, the ability to strike the ball with power is a foundation. Accuracy can be built from there."


    With this, the personal training plan was specially tailored for Zambrotta: crossing.


    The First Experiment ¨C Against West Brom


    This was City¡¯s toughest test so far¡ªnot because West Brom dominated, but because everything about the match felt like a battle. From the opening whistle, the game was disjointed, physical, and frustrating.


    And in the 14th minute, City paid the price for a sluggish start.


    A miscommunication between Ferdinand and Gallas opened the door for West Brom.One pass. One clinical finish.


    West Brom 1¨C0 Manchester City.


    For the next 50 minutes, City threw everything forward but couldn¡¯t find a breakthrough.


    Ronaldo twisted and turned down the right flank, but his cutbacks were smothered.


    Larsson found space in dangerous areas, only to see his shots crowded out.


    Lennon came closest, with a close-range effort that was somehow cleared off the line.


    O¡¯Neill shook his head and turned around. "Ole, come here."


    Solskj?r nodded and made the sidelines his laboratory, quietly conducting mental gymnastics in consultation with his manager¡ªstrategizing how best to dismantle the opposition¡¯s defense.He watched the game intently, astutely identifying individual weaknesses and uncovering tactical blind spots.


    When the calculations were done, O¡¯Neill gave a sharp nod before turning to Zambrotta and Jamie Pollock.


    "Go warm up. You¡¯re going in next."


    Moments later, he gave the signal, and the fourth official¡¯s board lit up, announcing what was coming.


    Commentator: "And here come the changes for City. With that, Zambrotta, Pollock, and Solskj?r are coming on¡ªreplacing Cafu, Gillespie, and Larsson. Fresh legs, fresh ideas. O¡¯Neill clearly looking to shift the momentum here."


    Then¡ªa moment of brilliance.


    Zambrotta picked up the ball wide on the right. He shaped to deliver, swung his foot¡ªand the ball skidded awkwardly off his boot, slicing low across the face of goal.


    It was hardly elegant. In fact, it looked like a complete mishit.


    But in the blink of an eye, Solskj?r ghosted into space at the far post, meeting the ball with a simple tap-in.


    Clinical. Ruthless. Classic Solskj?r.


    Commentator: "What a goal! Wait¡ªhold on. Did Zambrotta mean to cross that, or... was that a mishit?!"


    Even O¡¯Neill and Robertson exchanged baffled glances on the sideline. Robertson raised an eyebrow. O¡¯Neill shrugged and muttered, "I don¡¯t think he meant that..."


    But it didn¡¯t matter.


    Call it instinct. Call it luck. Either way, it counted.


    City were level. 1¨C1.


    "Push up! Push forward!"


    In the 90th minute, it was all or nothing. O¡¯Neill wasn¡¯t interested in a draw¡ªhe wanted the win. One final push.


    City threw everything forward.


    Players surged into the box. Even Jens Lehmann sprinted from his goal, joining the attack¡ªan eleventh outfield player for this last desperate assault.


    Neil Lennon raised his right hand, scanned the crowded penalty area, and prepared to deliver what might be City¡¯s last chance.


    A deep, floated corner¡ªtargeting the far post with pinpoint precision.


    All eyes locked onto the ball.


    And there was Marco Materazzi.


    He launched himself into the air, using the defender in front of him for leverage, climbing higher than anyone else.


    A diving header. Full power. Full commitment.


    The ball slammed into the back of the net.


    GOAAAALLLL!!!


    2¨C1, Manchester City.


    The stadium erupted.


    Materazzi sprinted to the corner flag, ripped off his shirt, and twirled it above his head like a helicopter¡ªhis first goal for the club, and what a time to score it.


    West Brom¡¯s players dropped to the ground. Stunned. Defeated. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    On the sidelines, O¡¯Neill, Robertson, and the coaching staff embraced, overcome with emotion.


    They hadn¡¯t played their best match.


    But they found a way.


    Full-Time: West Brom 1¨C2 Manchester City.

 Chapter 175: Roman, this is Football!

    Chapter 175: Roman, this is Football!"It¡¯s the partying issue again!"


    O¡¯Neill was furious.


    No wonder City were a mess against Stoke ¡ª even after all their brilliance in the previous two matches, they couldn¡¯t break the deadlock.


    Seven of their players had just gotten home an hour before the match against Stoke City!


    And not only that ¡ª they made things worse by dragging 17-year-old Rio Ferdinand out to party with them!


    Fuming, O¡¯Neill marched down the hallway and knocked hard on Richard¡¯s office door.


    "How do you even know all this?" Richard asked, surprised as he looked at the list of players O¡¯Neill had brought.


    Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, Jamie Pollock, Graham Fenton, Steve Lomas, Henrik Larsson, Rio Ferdinand.


    "It¡¯s from Jimmy," O¡¯Neill said.


    "Oh," was all Richard could manage as he rubbed his temples.


    If it came from Jimmy Rouse ¡ª the kit manager ¡ª then it was probably true. After all, the players were currently living with him in the dormitory the club had rented for their foreign signings.


    "What about the media?"


    "Thankfully, no one followed them once they got into the dormitory," O¡¯Neill replied.


    Hearing that, Richard let out a relieved sigh.


    To be honest, there¡¯s nothing he can do about this issue right now. The main problem is the new regulation across all of England allowing pubs to remain open throughout Sunday afternoon for the first time.


    Probably they¡¯re just testing the waters.


    For him, it was about letting the players unwind after back-to-back 90-minute matches, but for O¡¯Neill, they were undisciplined. He wasn¡¯t wrong though, especially since they had only just arrived and were preparing just an hour before kickoff.


    "No worries. You take care of the team first. As for this problem, leave it to me," Richard said reassuringly, making O¡¯Neill nod.


    After O¡¯Neill left the office, Richard called Marina and Miss Heysen, asking them to handle the issue.


    They agreed without hesitation. Richard also requested that they not be too harsh ¡ª just a light reminder and perhaps a small penalty to set an example.


    The problem many South American footballers face in Europe lies in the drastic change of lifestyle and environment.


    Nightlife, parties, women ¡ª and not to mention the tremendous pressure on their shoulders to perform at the highest level. Life in Europe is far more glamorous, easily addictive, and it¡¯s all too common for players to get carried away.


    Those who are able to adapt tend to thrive and live up to their potential. But sadly, some ¡ª like in this case ¡ª fail to cope and fall short of greatness. And that, truly, is heartbreaking.


    "By the way, Mr. Abramovich will arrive in five minutes," Marina suddenly said.


    "Ah, yes." Richard nodded, preparing to welcome the Russian boss.


    It was about the Zenit St. Petersburg issue.


    After some small talk with the Russian, Richard gave his answer directly ¡ªto reject Abramovich¡¯s offer without hesitation!


    "I know what you want... but I can¡¯t," Richard sighed, leaning back in his chair.


    For the past two days, he had been searching for any excuse to say yes.


    He liked the ambition. He respected the vision. And part of him¡ªhowever small¡ªwas genuinely tempted.


    But deep down, something didn¡¯t sit right.


    Especially with what he knew about the future.


    His consultations with Lewis only reinforced his unease.


    "Don¡¯t put your money in Russia," Lewis had warned. "Not now."


    The concerns were clear: weak democratic institutions, constant shifts in political leadership, and virtually no legal protection for foreign investors.


    Boris Yeltsin was still in power, but his administration was shaky¡ªconstantly challenged by hardliners, overwhelmed by unpopular economic reforms, and struggling to manage a country on the brink of unrest.


    Russia was still stumbling through its chaotic transition from a Soviet command economy to a free market. The system wasn¡¯t ready¡ªand Richard knew it.


    Abramovich kept talking, but Richard¡¯s mind was already made up.


    The risk was too great. The timing, all wrong.


    "Why don¡¯t you just buy the club yourself?" Richard asked.


    "As I said before, I¡¯m not into football," Abramovich replied crisply.


    Though slightly disappointed, he respected Richard¡¯s decision.


    This made Richard feel a bit bad toward his business partner, so he paused for a moment before saying, "How about this ¡ª earlier you said you were looking for funding for loans-for-shares auctions for an oil company, right? What¡¯s the company called again?"


    "Sibneft?"


    "That¡¯s right!" Richard nodded along and then asked, "How much is the company worth? And how much funding do you need to acquire Sibneft?"


    "About $100 million, and I probably need around $50 million," came the reply.


    "Then let¡¯s do this instead," Richard said. "Instead of acquiring Zenit, I¡¯ll invest in you to acquire Sibneft. Each of us will put in $50 million for half the company. But just like with Evraz, my bid must be made through your Millhouse Capital so no one knows I¡¯m behind it."


    Though Millhouse Capital was owned by Abramovich, the newly established company currently operated in London, providing a layer of protection for his investments¡ªwhether in Evrazholding or Sibneft¡ªagainst any future instability or potential isolation facing Russia


    More importantly, both Evrazholding and Sibneft were still private companies, not state-owned enterprises, which meant the political entanglements that often came with government-controlled firms wouldn¡¯t get in his way.


    "Why?" Abramovich asked suspiciously. ¡¯Why is he so sensitive about this? Is investing in Russia really that risky?¡¯ sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hearing the question, Richard¡¯s mouth twitched. Of course, he didn¡¯t say what was on his mind. Instead, he continued, "Sibneft will acquire Zenit instead of me. Later, I¡¯ll help you manage the club behind the scenes."


    Abramovich sighed, still shaking his head. "As I said before, I¡¯m not into football. I¡¯m too busy¡ª"


    "No, you¡¯re not!" Richard cut him off suddenly, knocking on the table repeateadly. "Come on, do you really think managing a football club is that busy? A lot of people buy clubs just to treat them like toys. What kind of busy-ness do you actually get from owning one? You can always delegate the work to professionals!"


    After noticing his hesitation, Richard stood up and glanced at his watch.


    "Let¡¯s go ¡ª follow me. Let¡¯s watch the Manchester City match that¡¯s about to start. I¡¯ll show you why they¡¯re so obsessed with football."


    Being at a match isn¡¯t just about watching a game; football isn¡¯t just a pastime ¡ª it¡¯s an identity. It¡¯s feeling the heartbeat of the crowd, the roar that rises like thunder when a team scores, and the collective gasp when the tension builds.


    The stadium becomes a living, breathing entity, pulsing with hope, despair, and unshakable loyalty. And for club owners, that passion is both a blessing and a responsibility. They¡¯re not just investors or businessmen; they become custodians of this spirit, entrusted with nurturing the dreams of millions.


    "You¡¯ll hear us score goal after goal," Richard said to Abramovich, filling him with anticipation as they settled into the director¡¯s box.


    Manchester City vs Burnley.


    "GOAAALLL!!! Ronaldo! He shoots and scores! What a beautiful strike!"


    Maine Road Stadium erupted with cheers and applause. Richard was very familiar with these sounds, but for businessman Roman Abramovich, it was his first time experiencing them. It was as if his eyes had just opened to a whole new world.


    Like a mini cult.


    Just like his ambition to become a ruler¡ªotherwise, why else would he work so hard to build relationships with Russian leaders?


    But politics was dangerous. With daily uncertainty, he had to ensure his safety from one day to the next.


    Abramovich looked at Richard¡¯s face¡ªcompletely intoxicated by the sea of cheers.


    ¡¯This is football?¡¯ he thought to himself before turning his gaze in one direction.


    In a corner of the field, a group of players wearing City¡¯s sky blue jerseys clustered around Ronaldo, celebrating their first goal of the match with pure joy and energy.


    With the help of their talented squad, City easily took control of the match¡¯s tempo and dominated possession. Burnley could only chase the ball back and forth in a futile effort, wasting both stamina and morale.


    "See those players over there?" Richard said, pointing toward Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, and Cafu.


    "They¡¯re players I personally handpicked from Brazil. Do you know how proud I feel watching them play so well? When you scout and bring in players like these, you don¡¯t just get footballers¡ªyou get artists on the pitch. And that¡¯s what makes the difference."


    Abramovich simply nodded. There were things he understood, and others he didn¡¯t. But for now, he knew one thing¡ªit seemed that being in charge of a football club wasn¡¯t such a bad idea after all.


    "But why do I often see you busier with your football club than with your other businesses? How profitable is owning a football club, really? What about the yearly expenses? How long does it usually take to break even, and what do you mostly focus on?"


    ¡¯As expected from a businessman,¡¯ Richard thought to himself, feeling pleased that Abramovich was starting to show some interest.


    "Don¡¯t use me as your benchmark. I¡¯m a hands-on person¡ªI like to get involved myself because this is my field. Did you forget that I¡¯m a former footballer? That¡¯s why you can¡¯t just follow me. For example, look at other clubs; they usually have a board of advisors and bunch of directors in charge of each department. But at City, I take control of everything."


    "Is that so?" Abramovich nodded, accepting Richard¡¯s explanation.


    Full-Time: Manchester City 1¨C0 Burnley.


    For the next match, three days later, Richard personally gave Abramovich a free pass to watch Manchester City take on Watford.


    This was the last match of September.


    "You know," Richard said, "if City wins this match, it means we¡¯ve swept all the games in August and September. As the man in charge, aren¡¯t you proud to see your team achieving results like this?"


    Abramovich, seated beside him wearing black glasses, didn¡¯t answer at first. Then he looked toward Richard. "But Zenit is still competing in the Russian First League."


    "And what about that?" Richard replied. "Look, I bought City when they were relegated to Second Division¡ªwhich means the third tier of English football! This is what you call starting from the bottom, so you can build your way up."


    Suddenly, their conversation was cut short by the voice of the commentator.


    "Ronaldo gains possession of the ball outside the penalty area and dribbles past! Will it be 2¨C0? Yes! Ronaldo scores again! Manchester City now leads 2¨C0!"


    After a brief celebration, Richard turned back to Abramovich, a grin still on his face. Then, almost casually, he began telling him the story of Bernard Tapie in France¡ªhow Tapie prioritized his football club over his other businesses.


    Abramovich was taken aback.


    "He actually chose his football club over his business?" he asked, visibly stunned.


    From everything he knew, owning a football club meant losing money. It was a money-burning machine.


    No matter how much he racked his brain, he couldn¡¯t understand why anyone would willingly pour millions¡ªor even let go of a business they had built from scratch¡ªinto something so unprofitable.


    "Of course," Richard said matter-of-factly. "That¡¯s why owning Zenit won¡¯t be a loss for you. You¡¯ll just be the face of the club¡ªprofessionals will handle everything else. And if you ever need advice, you can always come straight to me. Isn¡¯t that a win-win for both of us?"


    "..."


    Hearing Richard speak with such conviction¡ªso casually, as if the emotional returns outweighed the financial costs¡ªhe found himself questioning everything.


    For the first time, he was... intrigued. Not convinced yet, but no longer dismissive.


    For the rest of the match, the two didn¡¯t speak¡ªbut the cheers surrounding them were truly electric.


    Watching the swift and agile Ronaldo effortlessly break past Watford¡¯s clumsy defensive line again and again, Abramovich felt something stir deep inside him.


    As City¡¯s players casually passed the ball around¡ªCafu even throwing in a cheeky backheel pass right in front of the home crowd, sparking an instant explosion of excitement in the stands¡ªhe listened to the chants, the laughter, and the joy radiating from the City fans.


    Various thoughts swirled in his mind.


    ¡¯Is this what I¡¯ve been looking for all this time?¡¯


    It wasn¡¯t about logic anymore. It was about passion, influence, legacy.


    And perhaps, for someone like him¡ªconstantly surrounded by power struggles and shifting alliances¡ªfootball offered something politics and business couldn¡¯t:


    A crowd that would cheer your name not out of fear, but love.


    "Let¡¯s do it then," Abramovich suddenly said as he looked toward the pitch. Then he turned to Richard. "But you know, it¡¯s not fair if we both put in $50 million each while you remain passive and I handle everything."


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched at hearing this. With no other choice, he added another $50 million, bringing his total investment to $100 million in what would become the third-largest oil producer in Russia.

 Chapter 176: Shevchenko Crazy Angle Goal

    Chapter 176: Shevchenko Crazy Angle GoalAfter the match, Richard sat in his office, scrolling through financial and other reports, when he heard a knock on his office door.


    "Come in," he said.


    Soon, O¡¯Neill and his entire coaching staff entered the room, accompanied by captain Cafu as the players¡¯ representative.


    Richard began by praising the entire team for their performance over the past two months, noting that it was a significant achievement.


    "Now," he said suddenly, his tone growing serious.


    In four days, City would face an opponent that had haunted them like a nightmare¡ªone that still lingered in the minds of the fans: Derby County.


    The memory of City being relegated from the First Division to the Second Division was still fresh¡ªmarked by a crushing 5¨C0 defeat to Derby County that sent the club straight into hell.


    At the time, a small-scale conflict erupted among the fans, with pitch invaders storming the field in protest. To make matters worse, the legendary Kippax Stand was falling apart, as dissatisfied supporters vented their anger on the seats¡ªeven the floor¡ªforcing City, under the Lee Consortium, to make the drastic decision to demolish it entirely.


    "Two months ago, we started this journey. Today, we stand unbeaten¡ªmomentum is on our side, morale is high, and confidence is through the roof."


    Then he paused.


    Everyone present exchanged glances, unsure why their big boss had suddenly gone quiet.


    Richard pursed his lips in dissatisfaction, scanned the room, and then raised an eyebrow. "But tell me¡ªdo you all truly understand what the Derby County match means to the current City?"


    Everyone looked confused¡ªexcept for O¡¯Neill, who, perhaps because his role as manager forced him to see the bigger picture, realized what Richard was trying to say.


    Richard shrugged and said, "Derby County was the reason why City got relegated to the Second Division. They crushed us three years ago."


    If City had managed just a draw in their final-minute match against Derby County, the club¡¯s current situation would likely be very different. City probably wouldn¡¯t still be in the First Division¡ªinstead, they¡¯d already be in the Premier League.


    "Look at how badly Derby County has performed in the past two weeks," Richard said, showing their recent fixture results.


    But because City lost to that damned, disappointing Derby County, they remain stuck in the second tier.


    "They lost to Barnsley and drew with Luton. Damn, it¡¯s laughable. How did Alan Ball ever lose 5¨C0 to them? That¡¯s why¡ª" Richard paused, then continued, "¡ªprecisely because of those results in their last two matches, I expect City to bring home three points next."


    Last season, Derby County suffered a major setback when they lost to dark horse Leicester City in the play-off final, missing their chance to be promoted to the Premier League. It was a heavy blow for Derby¡ªand they probably still haven¡¯t recovered from it.


    Richard intended to take full advantage of that.


    Even Barnsley and Luton, who are currently sitting in 14th and 15th place, managed to take points from them¡ªso how could Richard possibly allow City, the league leaders, to lose?


    Everyone nodded as they understood their task.


    After bidding them farewell, Richard turned his focus back to work.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


    "Come in," Richard said.


    Soon, Miss Heysen entered with something in her hands¡ªit was the new promotional poster for Manchester City.


    Richard was satisfied as he looked at the new poster.


    At the center of the poster stood the iconic trio¡ªRonaldo, Roberto Carlos, Cafu¡ªwith their arms confidently crossed in front of their chests, exuding power and unity. Behind them, a transparent background image captured Larsson mid-roar, frozen in the passionate moment of celebrating his first goal. Beside him, Solskj?r was pictured executing a difficult strike from an impossible angle during the fierce match against Stoke City¡ªa tribute to the team¡¯s grit and flair.


    "This is good. We¡¯ll put them in the City Store for the next Derby County match."


    "Alright."


    After bidding farewell to Richard, Miss Heysen soon left, and the match against Derby County awaited.


    The Baseball Ground was a stadium in Derby, England, originally used for baseball as the home of Derby Baseball Club from 1890 until 1898, before becoming Derby County¡¯s football stadium.


    This was the first time Richard had come to this kind of stadium, which could only accommodate 17,500 spectators after the capacity was reduced from 40,000 following the 1989 Hillsborough Disaster.


    "Miss Heysen, I heard Derby is planning to move to a new stadium. Is that true?" Richard asked, walking alongside her and Marina Granovskaia.


    "It¡¯s true. Chairman Lionel Pickering made the decision to move the club to a new stadium, having originally planned to rebuild the Baseball Ground as a 26,000-seat venue," Miss Heysen replied.


    "So, it¡¯s about fitting more fans?" Richard asked.


    Miss Heysen shook her head. "There¡¯s an additional problem with the ground¡¯s wooden components. See the floor here?" she tapped the floor with her shoe.


    "This kind of material is considered unacceptable. Remember the Bradford City stadium fire in 1985? It was the exact same issue. If Derby wants to change all of this, they would need to remove everything. That¡¯s why Pickering decided it¡¯s better to move to another stadium rather than repairing this one."


    Richard nodded thoughtfully, making a mental note of everything.


    Before the kickoff, chants echoed through the stadium as fans from both sides began to taunt each other.


    "Five-nil! Five-nil! Five-nil!"


    The Derby County fans chanted the painful scoreline from two years ago, aiming their taunts at Manchester City.


    Of course, the City fans fired back bitterly with their own chant.


    "The cowards lost to Leicester City at Wembley!"


    There wasn¡¯t much enmity between the two teams; it was merely a mix of pride, unfinished business, and bruised egos¡ªthe kind that didn¡¯t need violence to feel heated.


    The verbal sparring in the stands was still raging when the referee¡¯s whistle pierced the air.


    PHWEEEE!


    Unexpectedly, right from the first touch, it was Derby County who took the initiative¡ªaggressive, hungry, and clearly on a mission.


    Within just thirty seconds, their midfielder unleashed a shot from outside the box. It flew well wide, but the message was loud and clear: Derby had come to WIN!


    In contrast, City remained composed but seemed to struggle against Derby¡¯s aggressive pressing.


    Van Bommel, in a hasty clearance, inadvertently passed the ball back to a Derby striker, forcing Robbie Savage to pounce. He lunged forward to intercept, nearly taking the defender¡¯s legs with him in the process.


    The reckless challenge brought the Derby player crashing down, and the whistle blew sharply.


    Tensions flared instantly.


    A small scuffle broke out as Derby players rushed in, shoving Savage in protest.


    Never one to back down, Savage stood his ground, chest to chest with one of their midfielders, barking back with his trademark fire. A few more shoves were exchanged before the referee and captains stepped in to separate the players.


    The crowd roared¡ªhalf in outrage, half in delight.


    The game had just begun, but the temperature on the pitch was already boiling.


    Within first twenty minutes, Derby County¡¯s high pressing left City gasping for defensive cover. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The fans in the stands were visibly anxious.


    "What¡¯s happening?" Marina asked, looking toward the pitch.


    If she remembered correctly, O¡¯Neill had impressively played the role of firefighter during his first two months with City, where the team had dominated the First Division


    Only Richard remained calm. O¡¯Neill had already briefed him about Derby¡¯s high pressing during the preparation meetings.


    "It¡¯s not slow, but they aren¡¯t used to it yet and are still adapting," O¡¯Neill said at the time.


    That¡¯s why Barnsley and Luton were able to punish them.


    So for the next match¡ªO¡¯Neill planned to use Clough-like simplicity with his tactical instructions and confidence-restoring inspiration. He wanted to shape City¡¯s set-piece organization, pacey counter-attacking, and defensive resolve significantly.


    "Why?" Richard raised an eyebrow at this confession.


    O¡¯Neill nodded and explained.


    "We ve become have become over-reliant on Ronaldo, Roberto and Cafu." he stated.


    He also pointed out that their failure to break down Stoke City¡¯s defense late in the game stood out¡ªmostly because the unfit Ronaldo got a bit too selfish, trying to take on defenders one-on-one, cutting inside, and shooting instead of looking for better options.


    That¡¯s why he wants City to start playing without the Brazilians, and why the current formation is:


    Goalkeeper: Jens Lehmann


    Defenders: Gianluca Zambrotta, Materazzi, Rio Ferdinand, William Gallas


    Midfielders: Robbie Savage, Van Bommel, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara


    Forwards: Henrik Larsson, Andriy Shevchenko


    With this setup, all City needed was a bit of time to settle. Once the players found their rhythm, O¡¯Neill believed everything would start to click. Even without the pressing strategy, City would still be City.


    In the long-standing tradition of gritty First Division football, set pieces were a vital route to scoring. So when Derby County won a free kick in the attacking third, most of their players surged forward.


    The ball was lofted into the box, and amid a scramble for headers, Ferdinand held off a Derby player, leaping high to powerfully clear it. He directed the clearance deliberately toward the right flank.


    The ball bounced on the grass, and just before the Derby players could pounce, Andriy Shevchenko¡ªfilling in for Ronaldo¡ªshoved his marker to the ground and charged forward like a bulldozer to take control.


    "Go for it! No dilly-dallying!" a fan roared from the sideline as they saw the ball at Shevchenko¡¯s feet.


    And indeed, Shevchenko didn¡¯t need anyone to tell him what to do¡ªhe already knew.


    He surged forward down the right flank, driving the ball with purpose.


    Instantly, Materazzi overlapped him from behind, while Larsson¡ªalready ahead¡ªmade a diagonal run to the left, stretching the defense and giving Shevchenko even more space. It was a beautifully layered attacking movement.


    The fans erupted in cheers, swept up in the thrill of the counterattack.


    In the blink of an eye, Shevchenko was already deep in Derby¡¯s half. In front of him¡ªhow many?


    Two defenders up front. Two trailing behind.


    "Here!"


    Larsson, already ahead, raised his hand and shouted. But Shevchenko saw him¡ªand hesitated.


    In front of him, the Derby defender was closing in fast.


    Shevchenko decisively shifted his body to the right, then exploded forward with a burst of pace.


    The defender, who had already raised his foot to challenge, was completely caught off guard and stumbled to the ground.


    "One down! Oh, Shevchenko¡¯s shaken off his marker! What a dribble!" the commentator roared, his voice rising with the pulse of the crowd.


    But Shevchenko didn¡¯t slow down. He glanced at Larsson, then back at the goal. He could hear the crowd shouting.


    "CROSS IT!"


    "HEY, CROSS IT!"


    Now hovering just near the edge of the box, Shevchenko steadied himself. He had options¡ªhe could slip it to Larsson, square it to Materazzi, or... take it himself.


    And the way he looked up, just for a heartbeat¡ªyou could tell.


    He was going for glory.


    "CROSS TO LARSSON!!!"


    He heard it once again before he took his stance.


    Everyone thought he was about to cross.


    Richard paused his shouting. ¡¯No way... right?¡¯


    As a former player himself, when Shevchenko paused like that¡ªthere was no way it was a cross.


    No, of course not.


    ¡¯This kind of shot... it¡¯s just¡ªbecause from that angle, that¡¯s the only way I could get it in," Shevchenko thought to himself. "If I hit it hard, it¡¯s an easy save. So what¡¯s the best decision? In that position, I can only chip it¡ªgo over him. That¡¯s the shot.¡¯


    So Shevchenko struck the ball.


    The ball flew high, and everyone thought it would sail harmlessly over the goal. But suddenly, it dipped sharply and suddenly¡ªright on target.


    Derby¡¯s goalkeeper was taken aback. His position was awkwardly far from the goalposts, and he started backing up slowly, trying to judge the ball¡¯s angle. He raised his hand, preparing to punch it clear.


    Unfortunately, the dip was too sudden.


    The ball slipped just beyond his reach, curling perfectly over his outstretched fingers.


    The crowd held their breath for a split second¡ªthen erupted in cheers.

 Chapter 177: The Guvnors, Once Again

    Chapter 177: The Guvnors, Once AgainThe commentator¡¯s voice soared with excitement, "Unbelievable! What a spectacular chip from Shevchenko! That ball dipped like a bullet and just sailed over the keeper¡¯s hand into the back of the net! Pure genius!"


    Fans in the stands jumped to their feet, roaring with delight. Some were clapping wildly, others hugging each other in disbelief.


    City supporters waved scarves and sang Shevchenko¡¯s name, while Derby fans stood in stunned silence, unable to believe what they had just witnessed.


    Richard gaped in disbelief ¡ª it was the exact legendary Shevchenko strike from an impossible angle, fired past Buffon in a thrilling 1-1 draw against Juventus!


    That, of course, is something for the future.


    But who would have thought he¡¯d be seeing the goal right now!


    On the other side, Derby County¡¯s manager looked stunned, seemingly taken aback by the turn of events.


    Things were already tough ¡ª back-to-back losses had piled on the pressure, and another defeat could see his team drop to the bottom of the league table. Still, he clapped his hands on the sidelines, trying to fire up his players and spark a response.


    "Come on, boys! There¡¯s still plenty of time! Keep your heads up! Remember ¡ª we once crushed them with five goals! We can do it again!"


    His words lifted Derby County¡¯s spirits, and the players quickly came together, launching a series of dangerous attacks right after kickoff.


    O¡¯Neill caught wind of the opposing manager¡¯s fiery shout, his words cutting through the noise of the match.


    The history was clear ¡ª Derby County had crushed them last time, five goals to nil, sending City straight to hell. Just like Richard had said before the game.


    With a steely look, O¡¯Neill set down his water bottle, walked to the sideline, and turned to his ¡¯nuclear weapons¡¯: Ronaldo, Roberto, and Cafu.


    "He says they can beat us again ¡ª five goals against us! Did you all hear that?"


    The three players¡¯ eyes lit up instantly.


    O¡¯Neill nodded. "Alright, warm up."


    As the ball soared high over the bar, the referee immediately blew his whistle, the sharp sound slicing through the tension in the stadium.


    PHWEEEE!


    The fourth official raised the board.


    Number 9. Number 2. Number 3.


    Ronaldo. Cafu. Roberto Carlos.


    The fans erupted.


    "RONALDO!"


    "CAFUUU!"


    "ROBERTOOOOO!"


    "And here they come! O¡¯Neill has released the big guns! Ronaldo, Cafu, and Roberto Carlos are stepping onto the pitch ¡ª and just listen to that reaction!" The commentator¡¯s voice spiked with excitement, nearly shouting over the roaring crowd.


    Ronaldo jogged in with his usual swagger, eyes locked on the goal as if he could already see the net rippling.


    Cafu followed ¡ª a general on the battlefield, directing his teammates even before his boots touched the grass.


    And Roberto Carlos... Calm, focused, and hungry.


    On the sideline, O¡¯Neill patted the shoulder of Gallas, then Zambrotta, and finally Shevchenko as they walked off the field, sweat-soaked, with a quiet "Good job."


    The tempo of City¡¯s defensive play continued until the eighty-minute mark of the second half.


    After sustained pressure, Derby County started showing signs of frustration, their defense also becoming lax.


    Roberto Carlos pounced on a loose ball after Materazzi¡¯s clearance. He shifted to the side, smooth as ever, slipping past two pressing Derby players.


    Then he looked up.


    No one?


    Oh, there he is.


    He saw it ¡ª Cafu, already raising his hand, sprinting into space on the far right.


    Roberto Carlos didn¡¯t hesitate. He took a step back, then planted his left foot, his body leaning into the motion with that signature swagger.


    WHUMP!


    The ball rocketed off his boot, flying from the left flank and cutting through the air like a guided missile ¡ª soaring over the heads of Derby¡¯s entire midfield.


    Cafu was already on the move, tracking the ball with laser focus. It dropped perfectly ahead of him, just enough space to run onto it. A thing of beauty ¡ª a pass that begged to be controlled.


    The commentator¡¯s voice rose above the thunder of the crowd.


    "What a pass! Roberto Carlos with a cross-field bomb ¡ª and Cafu is through!"


    The Derby defense froze for half a second ¡ª then chaos.


    Defenders spun on their heels, chasing back with everything they had. Arms stretched, lungs burning, they closed in on Cafu like a collapsing wall. Even if they had to foul him, they were going to stop him.


    But Cafu?


    He wasn¡¯t slowing down. Or maybe... he didn¡¯t need to control it at all.


    Because the moment the ball touched the ground ¡ª once, bouncing slightly high ¡ª then twice, lower and skimming ¡ª Cafu already knew.


    The third touch. That sweet spot.


    Right as the ball leveled out ¡ª waist-high, dipping fast, skimming just below knee level ¡ª Cafu adjusted his stride, angled his body, and whipped a trivela.


    Outside of the boot. A curve sent from the gods.


    The ball spun violently, bending inward like it had a mind of its own. It curled around the desperate leg of the nearest defender, sliced through the box, and¡ª


    "My word, what a ball!" The commentator nearly lost it.


    Ronaldo was fast ¡ª but not fast enough to reach the curling ball in time. He knew it. So instead of chasing it down, he peeled off to the left, dragging one Derby midfielder with him.


    Larsson, positioned wide on the right in O¡¯Neill¡¯s 4-4-2 formation, read the play instantly. He was already in motion ¡ª the timing, perfect. The ball from Cafu dropped right into his path.


    He took a single touch to control it, then surged into the penalty area.


    The stadium went silent.


    One-on-one.


    Larsson found himself face-to-face with the Derby goalkeeper, just three meters separating them. The keeper lunged forward, trying to close the angle ¡ª feet braced, gloves low.


    But Larsson didn¡¯t panic.


    He didn¡¯t shoot. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Instead ¡ª with a calm that defied the pressure ¡ª he tapped the ball ever so slightly to the side. Just enough.


    Then, with a quick glance and flawless technique, he lobbed it.


    The keeper, already diving at Larsson¡¯s feet, could only twist his neck upward, watching helplessly as the ball rose gently over him.


    It wasn¡¯t fast. It didn¡¯t need to be.


    The ball floated ¡ª slow motion ¡ª past the outstretched gloves, past the final challenge.


    An open net.


    Larsson took two calm steps forward, let the ball bounce once, and with a simple tap, guided it home.


    Goal.


    The stadium exploded.


    Derby County 0 ¨C 2 Manchester City


    "That¡¯s it," Richard said happily, clapping his hands as he suddenly rose from his seat.


    "Where are you going?"


    The people around him¡ªespecially Miss Heysen and Marina¡ªwere taken aback and asked.


    "Of course, to work."


    "What about the match?"


    "It doesn¡¯t matter. City will win this match for sure."


    They both looked at each other and, with no other choice, followed Richard as he left the stadium early.


    The next day, as the sun dipped and the streetlamps flickered on with a warm orange glow, Manchester began to stir in a way only it knew how.


    It wasn¡¯t sleek or modern like the skyline of West London, which glittered with steel and glass. Here, the streets felt rougher, more real¡ªfilled with chatter.


    Radios played Britpop from shop windows, Oasis and Blur competing for airspace. The smell of vinegar-drenched chips and meat pies drifted from the corner chippy, filling the air with something unmistakably local.


    Richard headed to the pub just down the road from Maine Road. He had a meeting arranged there¡ªa quiet pint and a chat with Rich Turner, the owner of the Bluemoon MCFC website.


    He pushed open the pub door, and the moment he stepped inside, the buzz of voices hit him. He glanced left and right, searching for the person he came to see.


    "Over here!" someone called from the back.


    Richard picked out the familiar voice and weaved through the crowd¡ªdodging shoulders, spilled drinks, and laughter¡ªuntil he spotted him.


    There was Rich Turner, behind a shiny new bar, grinning as wide as the City badge on his scarf.


    "Business good enough now to hire some help?" Richard teased.


    Turner laughed, wiping his hands on a towel.


    "Takes a personal touch tonight. Opened this place near Maine Road¡ªfans flock in before and after games. A couple of us running the show isn¡¯t so bad."


    They shook hands and sat down.


    Richard leaned back, then his eyes drifted up to the giant screen hanging above the room. He blinked, surprised.


    A Jumbotron.


    But what really surprised Richard wasn¡¯t the Jumbotron itself ¡ª it was what was playing on it. He leaned forward, lowering his voice as he nudged the person in front of him.


    "Sooner or later, either the FA or Sky¡¯s gonna come knocking if you¡¯re still showing illegal matches. When that happens, this new pub of yours could get shut down fast. Don¡¯t be the first to get caught¡ªthings can go south real quick in court."


    Turner gave a slow nod, clearly taking Richard¡¯s warning seriously.


    To be honest, it wasn¡¯t just here ¡ª nearly every pub across the UK was using hacks to illegally broadcast the games.


    The Premier League was exploding in popularity, so as their fanbase grew, so did the demand to watch the matches live. But with Sky Television holding exclusive broadcasting rights¡ªand their pay-TV service priced beyond what many could afford¡ªfans and pubs alike started looking for alternative ways to catch the action.


    Because of this, many pubs¡ªand even some homes¡ªused hacked satellite receivers or scrambled signals to access feeds illegally, bypassing the paywalls.


    The Football Association (FA) and Sky were aware of this and were constantly trying to clamp down on these illegal streams. They conducted raids on pubs and businesses, shutting down those caught showing matches without a license. But with so many pubs involved, enforcement became a constant game of cat and mouse.


    After that, Richard didn¡¯t bring up the illegal broadcasting again¡ªafter all, they were both adults and understood the risks.


    Time passed, and soon the two of them were deep in conversation¡ªtalking about City¡¯s form, the Premier League dream, and the future of BlueMoon MCFC. After all, both had big plans for the site, and running a fan site was no small feat.


    Turner would write match reviews late at night and upload them over a dial-up connection. Now, word was spreading. Fanzines were fading, and the internet¡ªas patchy as it was¡ªwas starting to feel like the next big thing.


    "I had three people from Ireland send letters," Turner said, grinning. "Printed out the match ratings, mailed them around¡ªproper old-school internet."


    Richard chuckled. "That¡¯s dedication. So what¡ª"


    The bar was just about to close when six or seven middle-aged men suddenly pushed through the doors.


    Without missing a beat, they made a beeline past the stools and regulars, heading straight toward the pool table at the back.


    The group didn¡¯t bother with pleasantries. One slapped a few coins onto the edge of the table while another racked the balls with practiced ease. They moved like they owned the place.


    Richard glanced over and couldn¡¯t help but notice the bruises¡ªblack eyes, swollen lips, scuffed knuckles. But none of them seemed to care. They were laughing, clinking pints, trading stories like nothing had happened.


    From the bits of conversation drifting through the air, he quickly pieced it together: after the match, they¡¯d jumped a few unlucky Derby County fans in an alley, given them a solid beating, then slipped away before the local police could show up¡ªstraight out of Derby and back to Manchester before anyone could pin it on them.


    Richard¡¯s face instantly darkened.


    "They¡¯re the guvnors," Turner said briefly, wiping a glass with a rag as he reluctantly glanced over at the group.


    "Do they come here often?" Richard asked quietly.


    Turner nodded.


    Richard let out a slow breath, leaned in, and whispered,"I need you to help me find someone. The Blazing Squad¡¯s top guy ¡ª I think his name¡¯s Morran, or something like that. Whatever it is, he¡¯s the one they all follow."

 Chapter 178: Football communities

    Chapter 178: Football communitiesTwo days later, during Manchester City¡¯s ninth fixture of the season, Richard was back in his usual seat in the director¡¯s box at Maine Road.


    The match hadn¡¯t even kicked off yet, and tension was already bubbling in the rows around him.


    "You heard me," a man nearby said, arms crossed. "That Derby win was a fluke. Your back line¡¯s soft, and your attack¡¯s all hype."


    Richard glanced sideways as another City fan shot to his feet.


    "You call my team weak? Mate, do you even watch football? We smashed Derby four-nil yesterday! And you think bloody Sunderland has the edge? If City don¡¯t score at least one goal today, I¡¯ll bash my head on the concrete right here!"


    He pointed dramatically down at the pitch. "You heard me too! One goal. Minimum. Or I¡¯m going home with a cracked skull."


    Richard rubbed his temples. The headache had started before kickoff.


    All this shouting ¡ª the bravado, the tribal chest-thumping ¡ª it was exhausting.


    Football clubs in England didn¡¯t just survive on money or tactics ¡ª they thrived because of the people. The diehards. The communities. The love. But love like that had a dark side too.


    And hooliganism, like a weed, was still rooted deep in the sport ¡ª even now, as the Premier League tried to polish its image and sell itself to the world.


    Ever since the mid-1980s, when Prime Minister Thatcher ordered a serious crackdown on football hooliganism, things had definitely changed. Over the past decade, the results were obvious ¡ª at least at the top levels of the game.


    But down in the lower leagues, where Manchester City currently found themselves, it was a different story.


    The Premier League, ever since its creation, had become a polished, corporate machine. Big money, big sponsors ¡ª and a big desire to keep troublemakers far away from its image.


    Hooligans didn¡¯t fit the brand.


    But they weren¡¯t going to just vanish overnight.


    While the spotlight had moved to glamorous Premier League fixtures, the lower divisions ¡ª with fewer cameras, fewer journalists, and less security ¡ª gave the old firms just enough space to survive.


    That was the thing. The crackdown worked best where the money flowed.


    And with most matches across the country happening on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, it didn¡¯t take a genius to see where the police would be ¡ª Premier League stadiums.


    The rest? They ended up with the leftovers¡ªor sometimes didn¡¯t get anything at all.


    Greater Manchester police forces were already stretched thin maintaining order for Manchester United, especially during big matches against teams like Tottenham, Arsenal, and Blackburn.


    Under these circumstances, City was competing in the First Division, which meant that down here, away from the glitz and glamour of the Premier League, the resources were scarce and the attention limited.


    And hooliganism here¡ªthe old ways weren¡¯t quite dead yet, just hiding in plain sight. The Guvnors were a perfect example, always lurking and causing chaos in City¡¯s name.


    Richard could¡¯ve gone to the police, forced their hand, and had them sweep in to tear the firm apart. But would that fix anything?


    Unlikely.


    Get rid of one crew, and another would pop up somewhere else ¡ª maybe even worse. The Guvnors weren¡¯t just thugs. They were born out of something older: pride, anger, identity, belonging. Cut them off, and the roots still clung to the concrete of Manchester.


    In this city, trouble didn¡¯t need a reason. Sometimes it only took a bad result, a spilled pint, or a sideways glance ¡ª and suddenly fists were flying, and no one remembered who kicked the ball first.


    That¡¯s why Richard had to be careful. Too careful, maybe.


    The future of AFC Wimbledon is a perfect example of how community can be a double-edged sword in football.


    Their chairman wanted to move Wimbledon F.C. to Milton Keynes?


    Well, that meant the club had to brace itself for what was coming: protests, boycotts, and fierce opposition.


    But after the FA announced their decision, the fans had no right of appeal. So what did they do?


    They literally fucking created a whole new club from scratch ¡ª starting fresh under the banner of AFC Wimbledon.


    No backing down, no second chances. Just pure passion and loyalty.


    See?


    That¡¯s why Richard never wanted to lose supporters like this. They¡¯re wild, sure, but their loyalty is real. So, the Guvnors? Let¡¯s try to start brainwashing them from the lower-level members up.


    And for that to happen...


    ¡¯That¡¯s why,¡¯ Richard thought as he looked toward the pitch, "We¡¯re the first to reach the Premier League. Yeah, next year, we have to make it there!


    And that thought was similar to what Martin O¡¯Neill believed too.


    Because after wrapping up their eight league fixtures plus one League Cup match, they¡¯d already set a record: nine straight wins, eighteen goals scored, and only three conceded!


    Mainstream media was hardly paying attention to the English Football Division One ¡ª their cameras were too busy chasing the glitz and glamour of the Premier League. But nine wins in a row? That kind of form was impossible to ignore for long.


    Whispers started turning into headlines. Pundits who once dismissed City as just another sleeping giant were now forced to acknowledge something was brewing at Maine Road.


    It wasn¡¯t just about the results. It was the way they played ¡ª aggressive, sharp, confident. A team with purpose.


    People were starting to talk.


    And Richard knew: if they kept this up, the noise would only get louder.


    Time for promotion!


    The best part of preparing for the Premier League?


    Building the story.


    Because before you conquer the spotlight, you need to own the narrative.


    And when it came to storytelling, Richard knew there was one man in the world who understood that better than anyone: Vince McMahon ¡ª the mastermind behind the WWE, the king of turning drama into headlines, struggle into spectacle.


    So Richard made the call.


    "Vince. It¡¯s me, Richard Maddox. I need a minute of your time."


    He expected a secretary, maybe a cold redirect. Instead, Vince picked up directly.


    "Talk to me."


    In the end, the advice he got was simple: quietly feed the press what they love ¡ª a comeback narrative.


    It was about redemption.


    About the underdog clawing their way back. About a forgotten legend rising again when everyone else thought it was over. You didn¡¯t need to flood the media with stats or empty promises. You just needed to give them emotion ¡ª give them storylines.


    Manchester City, rebuilding from the ground up. A forgotten club, fighting its way back.


    Every reporter loves a redemption arc ¡ª and Vince advised Richard to give them the perfect lines to run with. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Manchester City vs Sunderland


    Sunderland had an impressive win record, nearly matching City¡¯s¡ªonly separated by goal difference.


    Both teams were locked in a fierce battle, each aiming for promotion to the Premier League, making them direct rivals this season.


    Despite City¡¯s strong momentum, Sunderland played cautiously.


    O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t underestimate them either. The match was a tense, conservative affair from both sides, ending in a frustrating 0-0 draw after ninety minutes.


    After Sunderland, there was no time for the squad to catch their breath. Just four days later, City traveled to face Crystal Palace, hoping for a better result¡ªbut once again, they were held to a disappointing 0-0 draw.


    With two consecutive draws, Manchester City¡¯s strong start was under threat, causing them to lose their top spot and drop to third¡ªjust behind Sunderland and Derby County, who quickly recovered after their losses to City!


    Richard accepted the results without complaint¡ªafter all, City hadn¡¯t conceded a single goal in five matches since conceding against West Brom in the sixth fixture!


    He was genuinely thrilled with the team¡¯s solid defensive performance.


    Materazzi and Zambrotta quickly adapted to their new positions and the English weather, while Ferdinand, who had played a bit recklessly last season, began to show he could hold his ground when dealing with loose balls. Gallas played a big role in teaching him these skills.


    Heck, even Lehmann, who had struggled during his time at Schalke, was now performing solidly between the posts. He was shedding his earlier doubts and beginning to show a tougher, more ruthless edge.


    Upon returning to Manchester, Richard barely had a moment to rest¡ªhis focus immediately shifted to the promotion campaign ahead.


    O¡¯Neill, his staff, and the squad were also busy.


    Although there were no First Division matches midweek, the second preliminary round of the League Cup was just around the corner ¡ª and, more importantly, the FA Cup clash against QPR later by the early November!


    With a Premier League team waiting for them in the FA Cup, O¡¯Neill sent out a full substitute squad to face Bury in the League Cup first.


    The preliminary match ended in a 3-1 win for Manchester City, thanks to a brace from Solskj?r and a lucky goal from Robbie Savage, successfully advancing them to the second preliminary round of the League Cup.


    In the final third preliminary round, they were set to face Barnet ¡ª but first, they had to take on another First Division team. So, over the next two weeks City faced a tough series of matches.


    They edged past Ipswich 2¨C1, then grabbed a tight 1¨C0 win over Barnet in the final preliminary round.


    In the League Cup, clubs from the First, Second, and Third Divisions had to battle through the prelims before entering the main draw. For City, it started with a 4¨C1 win over Plymouth, then a solid 3¨C1 against Bury, and finally a gritty 1¨C0 over Barnet.


    After back-to-back draws, they were finally back in the groove with two straight wins!


    But on the night the League Cup first-round draw was revealed, Richard went quiet.


    Blackburn Rovers.


    Now that¡¯s a proper heavyweight.


    "Let¡¯s focus on the FA Cup first," Richard said to O¡¯Neill in front of him.


    "You¡¯re right," O¡¯Neill replied, agreeing with him.


    But first ¡ª the media. The questions everyone was itching to ask about the QPR match.

 Chapter 179: Perfect Early Counterattack

    Chapter 179: Perfect Early CounterattackUnlike the League Cup, which has three preliminary rounds before reaching the first round, City¡ªbeing last season¡¯s promoted team¡ªhad a slight advantage going into the FA Cup.


    That¡¯s because City was a promoted team. So when the league kicked off in early August, most of the other clubs¡ªthose not in the Premier League or Football League¡ªhad to fight through the qualifiers first.


    Their goal? To grab one of the 28 available spots in the first round.


    Once those spots were filled, September marked the start of the First Round Proper, where 48 teams from the Football League Second and Third Divisions joined in. They were matched with the 28 non-league teams that had fought their way through qualifying.


    This round even included two clubs from Step 8 of the English football pyramid ¡ª one from the Isthmian League Second Division and Wisbech Town from the Eastern Counties League Premier Division.


    Among all of them was City, drawn against QPR ¡ª the team that had earned promotion to the Premier League just last season.


    O¡¯Neill stepped into the press room.


    It was packed ¡ª the biggest media turnout since he took over. Cameras flashed, reporters leaned in. But they weren¡¯t here for just another First Division manager.


    FA Cup. Premier League. Queens Park Rangers.


    They were here because Manchester City was about to face their Premier League opponents this season.


    And they wanted headlines.


    The first question came immediately.


    "Martin, this is your biggest game as City manager this season. Do you believe your team is ready for this level?"


    O¡¯Neill answered calmly, "We¡¯ll find out soon enough, won¡¯t we?"


    A few chuckles, but the next question was sharper.


    "QPR¡¯s squad is far stronger on paper. Realistically, how do you approach a game like this?"


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. "Football isn¡¯t played on paper. If it was, we wouldn¡¯t be here."


    A shift in the room. A few knowing glances exchanged.


    Then came the question he¡¯d been expecting.


    "Trevor Sinclair was reportedly your target last season, but I hear Richard Maddox wasn¡¯t keen on the signing. What do you think about that, and how do you plan to deal with him?"


    O¡¯Neill dismissed the first part, focusing only on the second. He leaned forward slightly. "Like every other opponent."


    No unnecessary emotion. No distractions. Just another challenge to overcome.


    A few more questions followed, but O¡¯Neill¡¯s demeanor never wavered. He wasn¡¯t here to entertain. He was there to win a football match, not to play word games with the media.


    And when he left the press room, his mind was already on kickoff.


    PHWEEE!


    And here¡¯s Manchester City¡¯s proof that they are ready for the Premier League.


    "11 seconds! An incredible goal! A delightful play! Ronaldo finds the back of the net in just 11 seconds! That sudden counter caught QPR completely off guard, and now City take the lead!


    Just after kickoff, QPR tried to play their usual style ¡ª a quick pass back to the center back, hoping to build from the back. The center back controlled the ball, scanning for options under pressure.


    Suddenly, spotting a gap, he launched a long, hopeful pass over the top, aiming to catch City¡¯s defense off guard. But City¡¯s defenders were alert, tracking the flight of the ball and ready to pounce.


    Ferdinand jumped high, outmuscling his opponent in the aerial duel, and the ball dropped neatly at Gallas¡¯s feet. With a quick, controlled touch, Gallas passed it back to Ferdinand.


    Ferdinand wasted no time. He quickly surveyed his surroundings before sliding a short pass to Roberto Carlos, who was already scanning ahead for options.


    Among the center-backs, Ferdinand¡¯s footwork stood out as noticeably sharper than Gallas¡¯s and Materazzi¡¯s. While not quite as elegant as Matthias Sammer or Laurent Blanc, his short passing was solid and reliable.


    Like a snake, Ronaldo slipped into a gap in the middle of the pitch and waved for the ball. Roberto Carlos spotted the narrowest of windows and delivered a lightning-fast through ball that split the defense like a blade through silk. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In the blink of an eye¡ªjust seconds ago¡ªDerby County had posed a threat to City¡¯s goal. Now, three of City¡¯s players were dashing forward like sprinters breaking off their blocks.


    Two QPR defenders lagged behind, desperately trying to track Larsson and Lennon, who surged ahead on the flanks. In the center, Ronaldo drove forward with the ball at his feet. He was hounded by QPR¡¯s right back and a pressing midfielder, both closing in from the sides.


    From the stands, Richard marveled at Roberto Carlos¡¯s decision-making and Ronaldo¡¯s fierce aggression. ¡¯What a beast!¡¯


    Executing such a pass at full sprint demanded not only exceptional technical skill, but also a visionary understanding of the game. And the receiver? Equally crucial.


    Timing the run to perfection, anticipating the pass, and controlling it under pressure required a harmony between mind and movement¡ªan unspoken language between teammates who trusted each other blindly.


    No wonder, year after year, top clubs were always chasing Brazilian players¡ªtheir skills alone made them worth every penny.


    Receiving the ball, Ronaldo shifted sideways, slipping past QPR¡¯s defenders before cutting sharply inside toward the middle.


    Richard¡¯s heart pounded like thunder.


    What unfolded before him was the perfect execution of his counterattack strategy.


    The players surged forward in a lightning-fast counter.


    Ronaldo, carrying the ball, moved swiftly from left to center, driving into the opponent¡¯s penalty box. Meanwhile, Larsson, spotting the space Ronaldo left behind, quickly shifted to occupy the open left flank. From behind, Neil Lennon was already positioned on the right side, ready to support Ronaldo¡¯s move also.


    A QPR defender lunged forward, desperate to stop Ronaldo, but couldn¡¯t poke the ball away from his feet.


    Ronaldo danced past him like a shadow¡ªlight, swift, and impossible to catch¡ªhis every move fluid and precise, leaving the defender grasping at air instead of his jersey.


    On the left, Larsson was already in position, and on the right, Lennon held his ground.


    The last defender¡ªthe center-back up front¡ªknew Ronaldo¡¯s game.


    Everyone expected him to take on the defender with his dribbling skills. But just as the defender braced himself, Ronaldo nudged the ball to Larsson, completely catching him off guard.


    "Crap!"


    Behind him, the space was wide open.


    The left-back, who was supposed to mark Neil Lennon on the right, stepped up to help block Larsson¡ªand that¡¯s where he messed up. He should¡¯ve stuck to Lennon, but instead, he got pulled out of position, leaving Lennon wide open.


    Larsson spotted the chance immediately. Instead of trying to beat the goalie one-on-one, he sent a sharp, low cross straight to Lennon.


    Unmarked.


    No keeper in sight.


    Because everyone¡¯s eyes were glued to Larsson.


    What could they do?


    Lennon just headed the ball in like it was nothing.


    "GOOOAAALLL!!! Neil Lennon! 11 seconds! Cool as you like! Manchester City draw first blood, and it¡¯s a masterclass in movement and misdirection!" the commentator shouted.


    "What a sequence ¡ª Ronaldo carving through the middle, Larsson pulling defenders like a magnet, and Lennon? Ice cold. That¡¯s a team goal at its finest. QPR didn¡¯t even know what hit them!" the co-commentator added.


    After Lennon scored, he turned and pointed at Ronaldo with a big grin, sprinting over to celebrate. The other players gathered around, reveling in the moment.


    The technique, the fluidity ¡ª truly a visual delight.


    Manchester City 1 ¨C 0 Queens Park Rangers.


    For the next ten minutes, QPR began to show signs of frustration. From the first whistle, they played with the intent to dictate possession through crisp, confident passing.


    Unexpectedly, City showed no sign of panic. They dropped into their defensive shape, staying compact and forcing QPR to work for every inch of space.


    And now, the first warning came¡ªthey¡¯ve been caught off guard and conceded a goal.


    Of course, QPR were no amateurs¡ªthey quickly shifted gears and adapted their approach. Trevor Sinclair slipped into a pocket of space between the lines.


    With a clever feint, he sent Savage the wrong way, and before anyone could blink, he threaded a perfectly weighted pass straight through the heart of City¡¯s defense.


    Ian Halloway, another midfielder, peeled off Gallas¡¯s shoulder with sharp precision. Taking a crisp first touch, he unleashed a low, powerful shot aimed at the far corner.


    For a brief moment, Maine Road collectively held its breath.


    Then¡ªLehmann sprang into action, diving low to his right. His fingertips just grazed the ball, pushing it past the post and keeping the score safe.


    On the touchline, O¡¯Neill barely moved¡ªbut his mind was racing.


    ¡¯That was far too easy.¡¯


    He turned sharply to Robertson, his assistant. "We¡¯re giving Sinclair too much space. Clamp down tighter."


    The message was relayed, and City adjusted.


    Savage and Van Bommel, the hard tacklers, battled Sinclair every time he got the ball¡ªprobing him, shoving him, and kicking him whenever they could.


    PHWEEE!


    The whistle blew, and the referee showed a yellow card to Robbie Savage, who feigned innocence as he asked, "What did I do?"


    Richard shook his head from the stands.


    Classic Savage and Van Bommel¡ªfiery tempers, always on the edge. It wasn¡¯t the first time they picked up a silly card for nothing, and it probably wouldn¡¯t be the last.


    RING~


    Just as Richard was settling in to enjoy more of the match, his phone buzzed unexpectedly. Instinctively, he glanced at the screen.


    The moment he saw the caller ID, his eyes lit up.


    Karren Brady!


    The very one who was currently on assignment in France, working on a project for Adidas and FC Girondins.


    Without hesitation, Richard stood up and made his way to the restroom¡ªwanting to take the call somewhere quieter, away from the roar of the crowd.


    "I have a situation here," Karren¡¯s voice came through, low and urgent.


    Richard closed the restroom door behind him and leaned against the wall, the muffled roar of the stadium now a distant hum.


    "Tell me," he said calmly, already shifting into problem-solving mode.

 Chapter 180: A ’Chaotic New Reality’ of FC Girondins de Bordeaux

    Chapter 180: A ¡¯Chaotic New Reality¡¯ of FC Girondins de BordeauxBy the time Richard stepped back into the stands, the roar of Maine Road was louder than ever.


    The final whistle had blown.


    City had done it.


    Manchester City 3 ¨C 2 Queens Park Rangers.


    On the sideline, Richard saw O¡¯Neill tighten his fists, pumping them up and down as he held back from celebrating further.


    "You put your right foot in~"


    "You drag the ball out~"


    "You do the Ronaldo, and you turn them about~"


    "You stick the ball past the keeper¡¯s head~"


    "The ball¡¯s in the back of the net~"


    "Oh, Ronaldo, oh, Ronaldo~"


    "Oh, Ronaldo, that¡¯s what it¡¯s all about~"


    Oh, that¡¯s because after Neil Lennon¡¯s easy goal, the next two goals came from Ronaldo¡ªwhich is why the fans were singing that song. However, that wasn¡¯t what surprised everyone the most.


    City Shock Premier League Returnees!


    Though they came dangerously close to being clawed back ¡ª nearly falling victim to a dramatic comeback ¡ª the fans at Maine Road loved every second of the rollercoaster. The highs, the tension, the roar of the crowd; it was the kind of match that reminded everyone why they loved football.


    After an unbeaten run in the lower leagues, sweeping past opponents in the League Cup, and now toppling Premier League¡¯s QPR in the FA Cup, Manchester City finally captured the full attention of the media.


    The Next Morning ¡ª Headlines Across Britain.


    The Guardian:


    [...City Prove Critics Wrong with Tactical Triumph Over QPR...]


    The Independent:


    [...Manchester City Announce Their Top-Flight Return in Style ¡ª 3-2 Victory Over Queens Park Rangers...]


    Daily Mail:


    [...Ruthless City Put QPR to the Sword ¡ª Maine Road Erupts...]


    Satisfied with this, Richard then shifted his focus to the news Karren Brady had brought him about the situation with FC Girondins de Bordeaux in France.


    It all started with the bribery scandal involving Bernard Tapie and his Olympique de Marseille, which had rocked French football to its core.


    Although there was no direct link between Olympique de Marseille and FC Girondins de Bordeaux, the bribery scandal had triggered an investigation by the Direction Nationale du Contr?le de Gestion (DNCG) into all French clubs. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This was when everything came to light ¡ª when they opened the club¡¯s account book.


    "The club¡¯s short about 38.9 million francs (¡ê5 million) just to balance the books," Karren explained. "They¡¯ve been talking to a few businessmen about a possible takeover."


    That was basically what she had told him yesterday, and as the probe deepened, things only got worse ¡ª sparking fears of a looming crisis.


    The DNCG, France¡¯s strict financial watchdog, had tightened regulations, scrutinizing every transaction with a magnifying glass. They had become wary of foreign influence. There were also cultural and political hurdles, which meant Richard would have to do more than just offer money ¡ª he had to earn trust.


    Basically, he needed to convince the city, the fans, the DNCG, and the football federation that his intentions weren¡¯t purely commercial. That he wasn¡¯t there to gut the club and sell it off for parts, but to restore it.


    But was Richard willing to go that far?


    Of course not.


    Richard then called Karren Brady, who was in France, to move forward with their plan. After discussing the details, Karren began explaining her way to solve the problem.


    "So?" Richard asked via phone.


    She must have a method to resolve the issue.


    "Actually, it¡¯s easy for Bordeaux to solve this," she said. "They just need to sell their best players and millions will pour into their pockets. But the current chairman, Claude Bez, adamantly refuses to sell them."


    "Hmmm," Richard rubbed his chin. "Is there any reason why he refuses to sell them?"


    "UEFA Intertoto Cup," Karren said.


    The UEFA Intertoto Cup, or International Football Cup, was a summer football competition between European clubs.


    Any club wanting to take part had to apply, and the highest-ranked teams in their domestic leagues who hadn¡¯t qualified for other European competitions got the chance to enter.


    The cup promoted itself as a way for clubs that usually wouldn¡¯t make it into the UEFA Cup to get a shot. Bordeaux was really keen on the competition because this year, the cup offered UEFA Cup qualification spots ¡ª three spots instead of the original two.


    With PSG running the show in Ligue 1, and unexpected dark horses like Auxerre, Metz, Lens, and Montpellier making waves, Bordeaux¡ªwho were hyped up as the new heroes to replace OM, with stars like Zidane, Lizarazu, and Dugarry¡ªended up stuck near the bottom of the table!


    So for now, the Intertoto Cup was basically their best shot this year at getting into the UEFA Cup next season.


    "Just yesterday, on Tuesday, some board members wanted the club to file for bankruptcy with Bordeaux¡¯s commercial court to begin the necessary restructuring. They were hoping for some relief but the chairman rejected the idea, insisting that if they win the Intertoto Cup, all the problems will resolve themselves."


    She continued, "Because of this, DNCG has asked the club to voluntarily give up its professional license, warning that if the club¡¯s expenditures exceed the set threshold, Bordeaux could be immediately stripped of both its league position and its cup eligibility."


    Richard was speechless. Why would he fight so hard if it meant they were heading for relegation anyway?


    Sometimes the thinking of businessmen like this can be dangerous, especially when it conflicts with what¡¯s best for the club. It was a reminder of how business-minded owners often prioritize profits and cost-cutting over tradition and fan loyalty.


    Richard then reflected on Manchester United¡¯s future under INEOS, where "redundancies" became the excuse for every tough decision ¡ª even going so far as to refuse to pay for staff tickets to matches, cutting corners wherever they could.


    Now, Claude Bez, too fixated on his successes in the 1980s, was ignoring the current state of the club. Blinded by past glory, he failed to recognize how much Bordeaux was struggling, unwilling to adapt or make the tough decisions needed to save the club from its mounting problems.


    "Does this mean we¡¯ve failed to acquire the club?"


    This was the most important question to him ¡ª more than anything else. He had already invested significant resources into establishing Maddox Football Group as the SPV for the Bordeaux deal, and now it looked like it was all falling apart.


    "If we¡¯re talking about a full acquisition of Bordeaux ¡ª we¡¯ve likely failed," she admitted. "But..."


    "But?"


    Was there still a way forward?


    "It¡¯s possible¡ªwe¡¯re not going for a full takeover, just a minority stake," she explained. "Right now, the whole place is tense. Everyone¡¯s watching their backs, but Chairman Bez still holds all the power. If we come to him with an open hand¡ªnot trying to push him out, but offering to work alongside him ¡ª I believe he¡¯ll say yes."


    "You really think he¡¯ll give up control of his own club?"


    "Let¡¯s be honest ¡ª he probably doesn¡¯t want to. But at this point, does he really have a choice? The DNCG is already breathing down his neck after all the reckless spending on scouting over the past few decades."


    "Is that so? What about the other stakeholders?"


    "They¡¯re already trying to find the right price to sell their shares. Bez is the only one still unwilling to let go of his, but he can¡¯t control them."


    "How much do you need to acquire the minority stake? Would the two million I gave you earlier be enough?"


    "It¡¯s enough for now. What I need is your green light. Then I¡¯ll move to buy the shares."


    Richard closed his eyes for a moment, processing the ins and outs of the situation.


    To be honest, he was tempted.


    From his point of view, it¡¯s a lot less worrying¡ªafter all, the ownership still lies with Chairman Claudio Bez.


    It¡¯s a similar approach to how Manchester United¡¯s operations might unfold in the future. The Glazers, facing intense backlash from fans over their ownership style, stepped back and allowed Sir Jim Ratcliffe to take a more active role in the club. So instead of the Glazers directly managing things, it was Ratcliffe¡ªa minority shareholder¡ªwho oversaw Manchester United¡¯s day-to-day operations under their continued ownership.


    "I¡¯ll support you in this," Richard said firmly, "but I have conditions."


    "..."


    Karren waited patiently on the other end of the line. The silence stretched between them as she sensed he was choosing his words carefully.


    Finally, Richard spoke. "It has to be on terms that give us real influence ¡ª not just a figurehead role. I want you to control over key decisions, especially the academy, scouting, and all player transfers. Otherwise, what¡¯s the point?"


    "..."


    On the other end, Karren mulled this over. To be honest, the academy was easy ¡ª the department itself was already nearing closure. As for scouting, she knew Bordeaux had begun pulling back all their overseas scouting stations. Transfers, though... she thought it through again and again, but in the end, she agreed.


    "I understand. I¡¯ll do my best."


    "Good. My second condition ¡ª this winter transfer window, help me secure two players."


    "Who?"


    "Nantes¡¯ Claude Mak¨¦l¨¦l¨¦ and Patrick Vieira from AC Milan."


    Karen gasped on the other end of the line, stunned by Richard¡¯s boldness.


    How could he even think of poaching a player from AC Milan? But Richard had already done the math.


    To be honest, when Vieira signed for Milan, he was ready to give up on him. Unexpectedly, Vieira hadn¡¯t played a single minute yet!


    He seemed to be struggling to break into a starting lineup packed with the likes of Albertini, Desailly, Donadoni, and Boban ¡ª which made Richard believe there was still a chance.


    Zidane would be the perfect link to persuade them ¡ª both Mak¨¦l¨¦l¨¦ and Vieira had already played alongside him in the France U21 squad, building chemistry that could now be rekindled at Bordeaux.


    They¡¯re still playing in France, still in the top league, with a chance to qualify for the UEFA Cup next year¡ªand with the kind of salary they¡¯re offering, the bait was just too strong!


    This is why, if she pulled it off...


    Richard swallowed hard.


    Could Bordeaux really end up with Zidane, Mak¨¦l¨¦l¨¦, and Vieira?


    And if she really took control of Bordeaux for him, would that mean there¡¯s a high chance City could land all of them at once in the future?


    The ¡ê2 million investment suddenly seemed very worthwhile, especially since it wouldn¡¯t be a full acquisition, meaning there wouldn¡¯t be any issues with dual ownership rules to worry about.


    This arrangement could give them access to a rich talent pool without the headaches of complete club ownership ¡ª a smart move both financially and strategically.


    "I know, but given the club¡¯s current condition, I¡¯ll probably need additional funds if you want me to sign both of them," Karren said frankly.


    "I understand. Don¡¯t worry ¡ª I¡¯ll send someone to Bordeaux to explore potential sponsorships as soon as you take charge of the club for me. You know what I¡¯m getting at, right?"


    Karren paused for a moment, then allowed herself a small smile.


    ¡¯Ah, if that¡¯s the case...¡¯ she thought. It was a clever arrangement ¡ª and one she could work with.


    "Then it¡¯s settled, then," Richard said, before pausing as something crossed his mind. He glanced back at the phone and asked,


    "Oh, and what about Adidas? Were you able to persuade Tapie to sell it to us?"

 Chapter 181: Budget Request

    Chapter 181: Budget RequestThe next day, Richard arrived at Maine Road a little late. As usual, he made his way straight to his office, half-distracted and still nursing his morning coffee.


    BANG!


    The sudden, echoing sound of something slamming against the stadium wall made him jump. He froze mid-step, blinking.


    "At this hour?"


    He checked his watch. Training should¡¯ve wrapped up by now. Actually¡ªscratch that. Wasn¡¯t O¡¯Neill the one who gave the players a day off to prepare for the match against Blackburn?


    There shouldn¡¯t be anyone here.


    Frowning, Richard followed the source of the noise, the echo of another powerful thump guiding his steps toward the training pitch.


    As he turned the corner, his eyes widened.


    There they were¡ªJohn Terry, Paul Robinson, and David Trezeguet¡ªtaking turns hammering shots at goal like it was mid-season. Fully geared, dripping with sweat, and completely locked in¡ªdeep in practice mode.


    "What the hell?" Richard muttered under his breath.


    Weren¡¯t these lads just coming off a grueling FA Youth Cup match this morning?


    They were supposed to be resting.


    Richard scanned the pitch, hoping to spot at least a coach or someone supervising them¡ªbut there was no one.


    Just the three of them. One was firing shots like a machine, another was defending and already drenched in sweat, while the third stood beneath the goalposts, eyes burning with fire as he blocked the ball.


    Storming onto the field, Richard didn¡¯t waste time. He stepped in front of the goal, snatched a ball, and kicked it aside. The players froze mid-motion.


    "You lot," he barked, walking straight up to them, "where is your coach?"


    The three looked at each other and then shook their heads.


    "And what about you? Aren¡¯t you in the match tomorrow against Blackburn?"


    Trezeguet shook his head. "My name¡¯s not on the list."


    Richard sighed, dragging a hand down his face, then rubbing his temples in slow, irritated circles. He paced in front of them like a general surveying young soldiers who¡¯d just set off a grenade in their own trench. Then he stopped, eyes narrowing.


    "You ever see a car engine run without oil?" he asked.


    The boys blinked, confused. Richard didn¡¯t wait for an answer.


    "It works¡ªsure. For a while. Runs hot, runs hard. And then... boom." He clapped his hands together. "Total breakdown. Pistons shot. Whole thing¡¯s useless."


    He then pointed at each of them in turn. "That¡¯s your body. That¡¯s your career. You think pushing through exhaustion makes you elite? No¡ªit makes you reckless."


    Still no answer.


    Richard sighed again. He raised four fingers and held them up right in front of their faces.


    "Four hours," he said sharply. "That¡¯s the maximum daily training limit UEFA allows for youth players."


    Then he dropped two fingers.


    "Twenty hours. That¡¯s the weekly cap. You know why they have these rules, John? Paul? David?"


    The three shook their heads, indifferent.


    Richard narrowed his eyes. "Because if they didn¡¯t, maniacs like you would train until your legs snap in half."


    The players stood silently, unsure whether to leave or stay. Richard didn¡¯t care.


    "You think this is dedication, but it¡¯s self-destruction. I pulled you off fundamentals when you joined the team to protect you¡ªnot to hold you back. Three to four hours of intensive training per day is already pushing it¡ªand now you¡¯re adding this?"


    They looked at him blankly.


    Then Terry shrugged and said, "I don¡¯t think the team¡¯s daily training is that tiring."


    "Jesus Christ..." Richard muttered under his breath, nearly exploding.


    "Are you King Kong? Or Hulk?" he snapped. "I don¡¯t care how much you think your body can take. This ends now. You stop. You go home."


    Both Terry, Robinson, and Trezeguet exchanged bewildered glances. ¡¯What the hell are King Kong and Hulk?¡¯ But none of them dared to ask¡ªRichard was so deep in the zone, he didn¡¯t even notice his slip-up.


    Richard bent down and rolled a ball slowly beneath his foot, rocking it back and forth¡ªannoyed, but also a little self-conscious. He could feel their eyes on him. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡¯Alright... don¡¯t screw up the flick. Just one smooth lift. Easy. You¡¯ve done this a thousand times...¡¯


    He tried to flick the ball up into his hand in one motion, but it bounced awkwardly, clipped his shin, and rolled away toward the corner flag.


    "..."


    There was a long, awkward silence.


    ¡¯Is this what rock bottom feels like? Has my ball control officially retired too?¡¯


    The three didn¡¯t laugh. Not even a smirk.


    The new guy, David Trezeguet, just jogged over, picked up the ball, handed it back, and said calmly, "Sir, can I do just ten more shots?"


    "I..."


    Richard stared at him for a long second... then sighed in defeat.


    "Five," he muttered. "And then you¡¯re out of here. All three of you. Got it?"


    "Yes, sir!"


    Done with the trio, Richard finally arrived at his office and dived straight into work. He began researching NCSA and Netscape. More importantly¡ªAdidas!


    5.6 billion French francs.


    Equivalent to $1 billion or ¡ê780 million¡ªthat was the amount Richard would have to spend to buy Adidas. But since Bernard Tapie himself was desperate, Richard needed to find a way to lower the price as much as possible.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


    Sunlight streamed gently through the office window just as Richard looked up from his papers, the sudden knock on the door breaking the quiet.


    "Come in," he called.


    Before the crucial match against Blackburn, Andreas Schlumberger and Dave Fevre entered the room, flanked by O¡¯Neill and his assistant Robertson.


    The serious expressions on their faces instantly pulled Richard¡¯s attention away from his business research. His instincts told him this was about the players. He shut his laptop and leaned forward.


    Soon they briefed him.


    "Is it really that serious? Six players suggesting rest?" Richard asked, disbelief creeping into his voice as he scanned the medical report laid out before him.


    This news meant that in the upcoming match, there would be no Roberto Carlos, Cafu, Gallas, Jackie McNamara, Neil Lennon, or Van Bommel.


    "That¡¯s why, isn¡¯t that a bit extreme? Our lads look fit enough. Sure, they¡¯ve had a few extra games recently, but if they just grit their teeth and push through, they can get through the next two fixtures this week and then finally have a break." O¡¯Neill also furrowed his brow.


    Hearing this, Richard instantly changed his mind and sided with Fevre and Schlumberger¡¯s recommendation to rest the players immediately.


    "No. The recommendations from Dr. Fevre and Dr. Schlumberger make perfect sense."


    He then locked eyes with O¡¯Neill, voice steady but firm. "You¡¯re right that they might manage the next game against Blackburn, but remember¡ª"


    "Players aren¡¯t machines," Richard said, his tone growing serious. "And even machines aren¡¯t perfect. The most advanced machines break down and need repairs¡ªsometimes in ways that no engineer can predict until the failure happens. Nuts and bolts don¡¯t have emotions, stamina, or moods. Football players do. They¡¯re human. They wear down."


    Robertson looked at him incredulously. "Are you being alarmist?"


    Richard clicked his tongue. "What are you saying? Both Dr. Fevre and Dr. Schlumberger are experts in sports medicine. Who else should I listen to? Besides, as I said, they¡¯ve convinced me. In the long run, I want our players to have healthier, longer careers."


    O¡¯Neill saw Richard¡¯s mind was made up, couldn¡¯t help said. "If six key players don¡¯t play, the substitutes should be fine, but you know the match tomorrow is Blackburn."


    Indeed, without those key players, tomorrow¡¯s match looked daunting.


    Tim Sherwood, Stuart Ripley, and Niklas Gudmundsson were all threats. Richard even spotted some familiar names¡ªformer players from his agent days, like Alan Shearer and Graeme Le Saux, whom he had once brought into the City academy.


    Facing them wouldn¡¯t be easy. But truthfully, even without the starters, City¡¯s squad was still manageable.


    Zambrotta could cover for Cafu, and Finnan or Gallas could fill in for Roberto Carlos. In midfield, there was still plenty of talent¡ªKeith Gillespie, Theodorus Zagorakis, Robbie Savage, Jammie Pollock, Steve Lomas, Graham Fenton and Jackie McNamara.


    After giving his reasoning, Robertson wanted to argue, but O¡¯Neill cut him off.


    "Alright, we¡¯ll put together a half-first-team, half-bench squad. If we don¡¯t have enough players on the substitute list, we¡¯ll call up two or three from the reserves."


    Since Richard had already given his verdict, there was no use in arguing with him. Moreover, as a manager, his job was to accept the decision and move forward¡ªfocusing on how to adjust the team, motivate the players, and prepare for the next challenge.


    What else could he say? Since O¡¯Neill also agreed with Richard, he, as part of the staff, could only go along with it.


    After O¡¯Neill and Roberson left, both Fevre and Schlumberger remained, which meant there was still something they wanted to discuss.


    Richard allowed them to speak their minds freely. However, when they finally did, he was bewildered.


    "You want a gym? A new one? What about the current one?" he asked, confused.


    Both Fevre and Schlumberger immediately shook their heads, rejecting the idea of using the current gym. The problem, they explained, dated back to Alan Ball.


    Everyone knew that when he was manager, he prioritized player exposure. That¡¯s why, at the time, he suggested that players train in public spaces¡ªincluding the gym¡ªso fans could feel closer to them.


    "Right now, if a player wants to rehab or put in extra work, he¡¯s doing it surrounded by noise and fans," Fevre said. "There¡¯s no privacy. No focus. That¡¯s not how elite athletes train. In Wigan, we had to move training out of public areas to avoid distractions like autograph hunters."


    Richard frowned. The man had a point.


    He then turned to Schlumberger. "What about you?"


    Schlumberger nodded. "We¡¯re still seeing players train using outdated methods. Basic stretching, core strengthening, recovery protocols¡ªnone of it is being done systematically. It¡¯s only a matter of time before we lose key players to injuries that could¡¯ve been prevented."


    By the end of the discussion, basically both of them requested a dedicated budget for their respective departments: Recovery and Physiotherapy.


    For Dave Fevre, he wanted to expand the physio department to a six-person team.


    This would include:


    2 Senior Physiotherapists (focused on injury management and return-to-play planning)


    1 Rehabilitation Specialist (to work closely with injured players during post-physio recovery)


    2 Sports Masseur (essential for muscle recovery before and after matches)


    1 Hydrotherapy Assistant (especially if the gym included recovery pools or ice baths)


    For Andreas Schlumberger, he requested a budget to improve the club¡¯s physical recovery infrastructure. His proposal included:


    Hydrotherapy equipment such as ice baths, complete with a budget for ice, foam rollers, and heat packs or hot water bottles.


    More adjustable physio tables to reduce long waiting times for treatment.


    Basic diagnostic tools (e.g., blood pressure monitors, flexibility testing kits, reflex hammers).


    Portable massage beds for use during away games.


    After listening to all the requests, Richard realized that it wasn¡¯t just about new equipment or extra staff¡ªit was about laying a solid foundation: balancing work and rest, training and recovery.


    This was the missing piece City had needed for years.


    A genuine smile spread across his face.


    ¡¯Finally,¡¯ he thought, feeling a wave of relief and excitement.


    For the first time, City was on the path to becoming a truly professional club¡ªnot just in name, but in how they cared for their players. This wasn¡¯t just about short-term fixes; it was about building a system that would protect the squad¡¯s health, prolong careers, and elevate performance.


    "You know what?" Richard said to both of them as he pulled a folder from his drawer and placed it on the table.


    He continued, "Months ago, when I created this high-performance team, I decided I needed to take a deeper look at training, preparation, and diet. That¡¯s what led me to Italy."


    Both Fevre and Schlumberger looked at each other but said nothing, waiting for Richard to finish.


    The folder Richard placed on the table was boldly titled "Proper On-Pitch Warmups."


    It contained modular, timed training sessions. Richard then asked them if they could implement the program and follow it consistently.


    "..."


    Richard stayed quiet, giving the two doctors time to skim through the folder. After a few moments, Fevre finally broke the silence.


    "It¡¯s going to take time," he said thoughtfully.


    Because in this module, a completely new training program will be introduced, essentially dismantling the current system, which largely revolves around five-a-sides.


    Like stretching sessions and ice baths¡ªpreviously unheard of¡ªwere now part of the program Richard wanted to make a habit at City, giving players longer playing careers. Basically the module states that players are not in optimal condition with the existing method.


    "That¡¯s what we do in Schalke," Schlumberger stated, pointing to the ice bath section included in the folder. "But Dave is right¡ªCity will need a full adjustment for this to work."


    "I know," Richard replied. "That¡¯s exactly why I chose this moment. I¡¯m aiming for the new system to be fully in place after New Year. You know how it is¡ªthese players usually only get into their fittest condition after Christmas."


    Of course, Richard made some adjustments to certain parts to better fit the culture of English football. This included personalized training plans, individual diets, and double training sessions¡ªquite a change at a time when many players were more used to spending their afternoons in the pub or playing golf.


    Don¡¯t expect City¡¯s players to embrace this easily. So, Richard leaned back, a thoughtful look crossing his face, then suddenly asked, "What do you think about the current City?"


    Both Fevre and Schlumberger were taken aback, uncertain how to respond. To be honest, at first, they thought Richard was just looking for an excuse to reject their budget requests.


    Richard continued, his voice steady and clear: "I want to build a new culture at City¡ªone that puts health, recovery, and conditioning at the center, not as optional extras. We want a title-winning team, and this is where it starts."


    While augmenting his knowledge by learning from fellow coaches during trips to Italy¡ªincluding recent time with Gian Piero Ventrone at Juventus¡ªRichard wanted to give both Fevre and Schlumberger a "carte blanche," a blank slate, using Ventrone as a reference and their expertise as sports doctors to meticulously plan the squad¡¯s preparation and carefully manage the players¡¯ workload to minimize injuries.


    Fitness, flexibility, and strength work were tailored to complement on-pitch training. Richard does not believe the modern game is more demanding on players¡¯ bodies; instead, he thinks the volume of injuries in the top flight comes from over-training.


    "The physical demands are more or less the same," Richard says. "I believe injuries come from training. Coaches need to know when to stop, when to rest players. It¡¯s all about planning."


    And thanks to both Fevre and Schlumberger requesting to install a rudimentary gym at Maine Road, Richard was finally able to present his idea.


    "I will put a lot of my trust in you for this. You¡¯ll probably clash with O¡¯Neill, his staff and the players in the future, so when you start to feel like you can¡¯t do this anymore, remember¡ªI will back you."


    There was a brief silence.


    That was a bit over the top, wasn¡¯t it? After all, for a football club, what could be more important than the players and their coaching staff?


    "You know why I rejected O¡¯Neill¡¯s request to buy players like Chris Sutton and Trevor Sinclair in the previous transfer window?"


    "..."


    "Let me explain the truth," Richard said, leaning forward. "Typically, the more famous a player is, the more reluctant they are to be ordered around by new recruits¡ªespecially by a new department just getting started. Think about it: if Alex Ferguson were coaching here, or Roy Keane or Eric Cantona were playing for us¡ªwould they listen to you? Would Alex Ferguson accept Marina as the new Director of Football or me handling the transfers?"


    He smirked and added, "Heck, I guarantee he¡¯d resign that very day."


    "..."


    "That¡¯s why," Richard said firmly. "You have my full support. You lead, and we¡¯ll follow. Let¡¯s do this¡ªlet¡¯s build a team grounded in sports science from the very beginning."

 Chapter 182: Distracted

    Chapter 182: DistractedWho Truly Began England¡¯s Era of Money-Driven Football?


    Contrary to popular belief, it wasn¡¯t Chelsea in the 2000s who first ignited England¡¯s wealth-fueled football revolution ¡ª it was Blackburn Rovers!


    Blackburn¡¯s rise marked a turning point in the trajectory of English football. A club with little historical pedigree suddenly transformed into a championship contender, all thanks to the deep pockets and hometown pride of steel magnate Jack Walker.


    Walker returned to Blackburn and invested a staggering ¡ê30 million ¡ª an astronomical figure at the time. To put it into context, while ¡ê30 million might barely buy a top-tier player a decade later, in the early ¡¯90s, it was enough to revamp an entire club from top to bottom.


    Blackburn had been a club so cash-strapped they once struggled to afford train fares for away games. But with Walker at the helm, they went from financial instability to title challengers almost overnight.


    His first masterstroke? Hiring Liverpool legend Kenny Dalglish as manager.


    Under Dalglish, Blackburn built a squad stacked with elite talent ¡ª several of whom were full internationals. At the heart of the team was the devastating strike partnership of Alan Shearer and Chris Sutton, nicknamed the "SAS," who terrorized defenses across the league.


    Their dominance helped Blackburn push Manchester United to the wire in the title race and even saw them knock out Bayern Munich from the UEFA Cup.


    While Richard also brought ¡ê30 million in investment to City, the comparisons to Blackburn may seem obvious on paper¡ªbut in practice, the situations couldn¡¯t be more different.


    Unlike Blackburn, who had a relatively clean slate and a stress-free environment to build a team from the ground up, City were riddled with structural problems. Leaky finances, disjointed departments, outdated facilities¡ªRichard¡¯s ¡ê30 million had to plug countless holes before anyone could even think about marquee signings.


    Where Blackburn could channel Walker¡¯s millions entirely into assembling a title-challenging squad, City¡¯s war chest had to be divided between staffing changes, infrastructure upgrades, recruitment, medical overhauls, scouting expansion, and more.


    Blackburn were a small-town club in a town of barely 100,000 people, yet they scaled the heights of English football with astonishing speed.


    Before the Match


    Richard deliberately chose a seat in the stands close to the players¡¯ tunnel. As Blackburn¡¯s players emerged, the crowd roared. His eyes scanned the lineup¡ªand there he was: Alan Shearer, still built like a tank.


    "ALAN!"


    Richard stood up slightly, catching Shearer¡¯s attention just as he passed by. Shearer slowed for a brief moment, surprised.


    Recognition dawned. For a second, the fierce game face melted into a smirk. He walked over a few steps.


    "Didn¡¯t expect to see you this close to the action, boss," Shearer said with a grin.


    "Congratulations on your Premier League win last season."


    They shook hands before pulling each other into a brief hug.


    "Good luck out there," Richard said.


    Shearer gave a confident nod. "Don¡¯t need luck. Just goals."


    With that, he jogged off to join the warm-up, leaving Richard standing with a faint smile¡ªhalf pride, half nostalgia.


    Soon, Graeme Le Saux appeared from the tunnel. The last time they had parted, things hadn¡¯t ended well. But with time, Richard had come to see it differently.


    Le Saux had simply done what any ambitious player would¡¯ve done in his shoes. The real fault lay with the chaos and negligence of Wales City¡¯s previous management. Not long after, Shay Given followed¡ªtheir former goalkeeper. Then came another familiar face: Garry Flitcroft, a former City player whose time at the club had been brief.


    For today¡¯s match, with six players rested, O¡¯Neill had to rack his brain to make the best use of the available squad.


    Goalkeeper: Jens Lehmann


    Defenders: Gianluca Zambrotta, Keith Curle, Rio Ferdinand, Steve Finnan


    Midfielders: Steve Lomas, Jamie Pollock, Keith Gillespie, Graham fenton


    Forwards: Andriy Shevchenko, Henrik Larsson


    As the first half unfolded, Blackburn predictably pressed forward with relentless offense, while City dug deep into a solid defensive stance, clearly defining the battle lines.


    The roar from the stands was thunderous, and Maine Stadium felt overwhelmingly tilted in Blackburn¡¯s favor.


    Richard, watching intently, couldn¡¯t afford to be optimistic¡ªyet, the longer the match went on, the more hope stirred within him.


    Blackburn¡¯s attacks, fierce as they were, failed to break through.


    Indeed, history suggested a pattern: after Blackburn¡¯s Premier League triumph in 1994, their dominance had quickly faded. Would this be another sign that their reign was vanishing?


    O¡¯Neill, pacing the sidelines, quickly caught on to what was happening. He instructed Zambrotta and Finnan to sit deeper, hoping to lure Blackburn out of their shape¡ªmaybe force them to commit more bodies forward so their backline would start to open up.


    But Ray Harford had come prepared. His tactical setup frustrated O¡¯Neill. Blackburn remained disciplined, executing their game plan in near-perfect unison.


    Even when gaps opened up for their midfield trio to surge forward, they resisted the temptation. Instead, they stuck to a long-ball approach. They rarely ventured beyond the halfway line, and the full-backs stayed compact and cautious alongside the center-backs.


    Suddenly, there was a development on the pitch.


    As O¡¯Neill weighed potential changes, Steve Finnan, hoping to break the deadlock, made an overlapping run in a bid to shred Blackburn¡¯s defense. He cleverly feinted past Tim Sherwood in tight space¡ªbut before he could make it count, Le Saux was there again, dispossessing him cleanly.


    Graeme Le Saux read the play perfectly, stepping in to intercept a pass intended for Shevchenko!


    Without missing a beat, the versatile left-back looked up and threaded a precise ground pass to Alan Shearer, who had already dropped deep before bursting forward into space.


    "Classic Shearer¡ªdrops deep, draws the defender, turns on a dime, and if you give him even half a yard... boom! He¡¯ll make you pay. City can¡¯t afford that kind of space. And now look at this¡ªSutton¡¯s making the run... The SAS might just be back in business!" S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Ferdinand had already learned his lesson¡ªhe didn¡¯t rush in recklessly. Instead, he held his ground, carefully assessing the situation.


    Spotting that Blackburn¡¯s defenders weren¡¯t pushing up to support the attack, he made a smart move to shift toward the center cutting down Sutton¡¯s space.


    Shearer surged forward, then abruptly stopped.


    Sutton, in perfect sync with his strike partner, didn¡¯t try to force his way past Ferdinand. Instead, he waited¡ªpoised and alert¡ªfor the signal to make his run. Unaware of his surroundings while scanning for space, he accidentally collided with Ferdinand¡ªwho stood firm like a wall.


    Sutton tumbled dramatically to the ground, making it look like a clear foul.


    Instinctively, Ferdinand threw his hand up, signaling to the referee that he hadn¡¯t committed a foul¡ªbut that was his crucial mistake.


    From the stands, Richard shot to his feet, cupping his hands like a trumpet and yelling, "Foul! That¡¯s a goddamn foul!"


    And just as he feared, the worst happened.


    Ferdinand¡¯s protest drew the attention of Zambrotta, Finnan, and Curle¡ªall of whom momentarily paused, their eyes shifting toward him, then toward the referee.


    The referee shook his head and waved play on.


    By the time Ferdinand looked for the man he had collided with... he was gone. He whipped his head around just in time to see Chris Sutton already sprinting clear, leaving him and the rest of the defensive line in the dust.


    By the time Ferdinand tried to recover, it was already too late.


    Shearer had already taken advantage of the distracted City, threading a perfect pass forward to Sutton.


    The ball sailed into City¡¯s net, and Sutton slid across the goal line in celebration, his chest pressed firmly to the ground.


    The roar at Maine Road instantly faded, leaving City fans stunned and struggling to process what had just happened.


    "Goal! Sutton sprinted, seeking an opening, when Ferdinand bumped into him, causing him to stumble¡ªbut instead of stopping, Sutton seized the moment. Ferdinand raised his hand to protest that no foul had been committed, but his distraction gave Sutton the perfect opportunity to break free while the entire City defense was caught off guard."


    "..."


    Richard stood frozen in the stands, stunned into a daze. He could almost feel the urge to rush down the steps and literally tape Ferdinand¡¯s mouth shut to stop the chaos unfolding on the pitch.


    City conceded not because of tactics or skill, but because they were distracted by their own player!


    PHWEEE!


    The score remained unchanged until the end of the first half.


    Manchester City 0 - 1 Blackburn Rovers F.C.


    Inside the locker room, O¡¯Neill looked helplessly at the player in front of him and asked, "What¡¯s wrong?"


    Then he laughed bitterly. "I think you all suddenly stopped playing football overnight. Can someone tell me what¡¯s going on?"


    The players bowed their heads one by one, choosing silence. No one spoke.


    "Curle, what happened to your sharp long-range passing that you used to be proud of? And Larsson, how did you miss that clear header at the near post in the final minutes? Your technique should be better than that!"


    "And you, Andriy, where was your movement? Why did I see you tangled up with defenders the entire half? Did they tie you up with a rope, or do they owe you money?"


    "And you, Finnan, you¡¯re supposed to be supporting Larsson, finding those pockets of space to create opportunities. But you were invisible in the first half."


    From beginning to end, O¡¯Neill avoided mentioning Ferdinand¡¯s fatal mistake that led to the team conceding.


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s voice grew louder. "Who can answer me?"


    "..."


    "Focus. That¡¯s exactly what we need. Football is as much mental as it is physical. You can¡¯t afford to lose concentration for a second. We¡¯re better than this. We¡¯ve shown it before, and we¡¯ll show it again. But it starts with discipline¡ªon the pitch, in training, in every single moment."


    He stopped, fixing his gaze on Larsson and Shevchenko. "Andriy, Henrik, I want you to shake off whatever¡¯s holding you back. You¡¯re fighters. Show me that in the next half."


    Turning to the rest, O¡¯Neill¡¯s voice grew firm but encouraging. "Remember, games aren¡¯t won in the first half alone. It¡¯s about who wants it more in the last 45 minutes."


    A few players nodded, the fire slowly reigniting in their eyes.


    O¡¯Neill clenched his fists. "Now get out there. Let¡¯s make the second half count."


    Quietly, the players absorbed the energy, nodding in agreement, ready to give their all. The locker room buzzed with renewed focus as O¡¯Neill¡¯s words sank in. They were ready.


    Then, suddenly, O¡¯Neill called out sharply, "Marco, wait."


    He stepped forward, stopping Materazzi just as he was about to follow a teammate heading out.

 Chapter 183: Unexpected Twist

    Chapter 183: Unexpected TwistAfter the halftime break, both teams came back out with purpose.


    For Blackburn, the task was clear: grab one more goal or just hold out for 45 minutes, and they¡¯d knock City out of the League Cup.


    As for City¡ªthey had no choice but to go all in and chase the game.


    "Boss, what do you need from me?" Materazzi asked, walking up beside O¡¯Neill, standing tall and ready.


    O¡¯Neill glanced at him, then asked quietly, "Did you notice how they set up defensively in the first half?"


    Materazzi blinked, a little caught off guard by the question, but gave his answer. It wasn¡¯t far off.


    O¡¯Neill nodded and pulled a small notebook from inside his suit jacket, sketching out a simple diagram as Materazzi, Savage, and Solskj?r leaned in.


    Four defenders were aligned at the back, with one holding midfielder positioned just in front of them.


    Ahead of that, three midfielders supported Alan Shearer and Chris Sutton up front. It was a well-structured 4-4-1-1 formation.


    Evaluating a team¡¯s defensive strength goes far beyond counting defenders or gauging their aggression. What truly defines a solid defense are the layers of coverage and the seamless coordination between players.


    When a star attacker slices through the backline or a playmaker lands a perfect through-ball, it¡¯s not always about brilliance¡ªoften, it¡¯s a breakdown in team structure. When defenders swarm a single threat in panic, it may look intense, but it usually exposes dangerous gaps elsewhere.


    Today, Blackburn¡¯s defensive setup was a masterclass in organization¡ªclear evidence of how they managed to topple Manchester United last season. Their discipline, focus, and tactical cohesion were on full display.


    Instead of pressing blindly, they disrupted City¡¯s tempo, closed down space intelligently, and suffocated forward momentum. Up front, the SAS duo¡ªShearer and Sutton¡ªnever stopped moving, dragging defenders out of position and lurking for that one long ball to exploit chaos. It wasn¡¯t flashy, but it was ruthlessly effective.


    As the second half began, Blackburn¡¯s approach didn¡¯t change.


    They relied on long balls, while their defense and midfield rarely crossed into City¡¯s half.


    For the first five or six minutes of the second half, O¡¯Neill continued explaining Blackburn¡¯s defensive strategy to Materazzi, who listened closely, nodding along.


    Once O¡¯Neill was confident that Materazzi understood, he turned to him with seriousness. "Marco, when we attack, don¡¯t just stay back. Push forward and position yourself near their defender, Ian Pearce. If he¡¯s not marking you, even better¡ªtake the shot if you see the chance. If he is focused on you, create space and cover for Henrik and Ole. Got it?"


    Materazzi nodded, showing he understood and O¡¯Neill gave him a firm pat on the back before turning to Robbie Savage and Solskj?r, who stood beside Materazzi.


    After giving his instructions, he signaled for Materazzi to enter first, replacing Graham Fenton.


    Taking advantage of a dead-ball situation, the fourth official raised the substitution board.


    "What is City thinking? They¡¯re trailing, and O¡¯Neill brings on a center-back? And not just that¡ªhe¡¯s taken off Fenton, who was performing well today and providing significant support up front. It¡¯s truly puzzling."


    City fans exchanged confused glances. Three center-backs on the pitch? Did they not want to win? Was it all-out defense?


    Even Ray Harford, Blackburn¡¯s head coach, looked puzzled. He had expected City to strengthen their midfield or attack¡ªmaybe bring on someone like Ronaldo. But a center-back? Of all things? O¡¯Neill had gone completely off-script.


    Only Richard, watching high up in the stands, understood what O¡¯Neill was up to.


    As the head of City¡¯s high-performance team, he wasn¡¯t just some analyst crunching numbers. He¡¯d pulled countless all-nighters with O¡¯Neill, breaking down formations, stress-testing systems, and rewinding match footage frame by frame. He didn¡¯t just understand what worked¡ªhe knew why it worked. And now, from his elevated view, he could see the puzzle pieces locking into place.


    As soon as Materazzi stepped onto the pitch, he sprinted into Blackburn¡¯s penalty area. In that moment, City¡¯s formation morphed entirely.


    Ferdinand anchored the back line alongside Zambrotta and Steve Finnan, while Curle pushed forward to join Steve Lomas, Jamie Pollock, and Keith Gillespie in midfield.


    Up front, Marco Materazzi lined up with Andriy Shevchenko and Henrik Larsson, creating an unexpected trio of attacking midfielders stretched out across the pitch.


    The commentators scrambled to keep up. "What on earth is this formation? Looks like a 3-4-3¡ªmaybe even an attempt at a Cruyff diamond? This is bold!"


    Blackburn stuck to their tried-and-true tactic¡ªanother long ball aimed at Shearer, with Sutton drifting to the left to collect. Just like the first half.


    In this 3-4-3 formation, both Steve Lomas on the left midfield and Keith Gillespie on the right were already positioned, waiting for the long ball.


    They didn¡¯t push too far forward because, defensively, they were ready to step in immediately if Blackburn tried to launch a long pass.


    And sure enough, the moment the ball headed toward Alan Shearer, they were instantly swarmed him.


    Instead of being marked one-on-one like in the first half, each striker now had two defenders tracking their every move, doubling the pressure.


    They weren¡¯t wrong¡ªinstantly, City¡¯s formation shifted into a five-defender setup, but it was actually a 5-2-3 rather than a typical 5-3-2 defensive line.


    In the 3-4-3 formation mentioned by the commentator, two midfielders¡ªLomas and Gillespie¡ªdrop back to help defend and cover against counterattacks, instantly shifting the shape into a 5-2-3. But when City gains possession, both Lomas and Gillespie push forward, linking up with either the center backs or the two holding midfielders to buy time. This allows them to advance and support the strikers, transforming the formation into a full-on 3-2-5¡ªan all-out attack.


    In this setup, Ferdinand enjoyed a free role. Essentially acting as a fifth defender, he had the freedom to scan the field, read the play, and decide which threats were most dangerous.


    This allowed him to intervene where it mattered most¡ªanticipating passes, cutting off runs, and providing an extra layer of security behind the defensive line.


    So, now instead of waiting and reacting like before, he took the initiative, stepping up aggressively to challenge Sutton head-on as he waited for the ball.


    Interception!


    As Shearer released the pass, Ferdinand¡ªwho had been lurking just behind Sutton¡ªstepped forward at the perfect moment and cut it out cleanly.


    The moment Ferdinand took possession, Materazzi sprang into action. Alongside Larsson and Shevchenko¡ªboth aerial threats in their own right¡ªhe surged forward.


    This wasn¡¯t just a clash of tactics; it was a collision of willpower and brute strength.


    Ian Pearce, holding the line for Blackburn, was supported by Tim Sherwood and Niklas Gudmundsson, forming a double layer of resistance. But with Materazzi lurking in the gaps, the pressure was relentless.


    His presence alone was enough to throw off Blackburn¡¯s defensive rhythm¡ªespecially with Larsson and Shevchenko drifting around the edge of the box like sharks circling their prey.


    "Crazy... crazy... crazy," O¡¯Neill muttered under his breath as he saw Ferdinand stride forward with the ball at his feet, scanning ahead and waiting until Pollock and Fenton arrived in Blackburn¡¯s penalty area.


    By abandoning the wings, O¡¯Neill knew he was taking a gamble. If Blackburn launched counterattacks down the flanks, the risk would rise sharply. But no tactical shift comes without danger¡ªthe real question was whether Harford was bold enough to exploit it.


    And this... this was where O¡¯Neill placed his bet!


    The crux of the issue was that Blackburn¡¯s two full-backs, Le Saux and Berg, weren¡¯t making overlapping runs. Instead, they stayed back¡ªoverly cautious in their defending. They also crowded into the box, which actually made life harder for Pearce, who normally commanded their defensive line.


    To make matters worse, he didn¡¯t have a clear advantage in the physical tussles with Materazzi. Not because he was weaker or anything¡ªbut that Italian was downright crazy when he swung his elbows!


    Pearce, being the mature guy he is, figured Materazzi was just trying to provoke him into a foul. If he took the bait, City would¡¯ve definitely gotten a penalty. So he played it extra cautiously¡ªbut that bastard never gave him a break and kept messing with his chain of command at the back.


    "Push forward, push!" O¡¯Neill urged from the sideline as soon as City gained possession.


    Blackburn plays long ball? We can play long ball too!


    City abandoned the middle and instantly crowded Blackburn¡¯s box, making crosses from central areas easier for Ferdinand.


    Blackburn definitely positioned themselves well to defend against it, but with five City players roaming freely in Blackburn¡¯s area, Ferdinand¡¯s long balls became even more threatening. They were already making constant movement in such a crowded space.


    This is why Blackburn¡¯s defensive rhythm fell apart the moment City began playing long balls.


    Ferdinand barely paid attention to the chaos around him because he noticed Materazzi already pointing in one direction, so he kicked the ball for a pass.


    "Ah, shit!"


    Unfortunately, the ball wasn¡¯t perfectly aimed¡ªthe kick was a bit too powerful.


    With no other choice, Materazzi shoved Pearce as he chased the ball¡¯s trajectory. He knew the pass was slightly off, but he didn¡¯t care.


    Materazzi sprinted forward, then suddenly spun around and jumped. Unexpectedly, he didn¡¯t head the ball toward the goal but instead directed it in the opposite direction. If he hadn¡¯t done anything, the ball could have gone out of play.


    Taking advantage of the chaos, he hoped Lady Luck would bless them¡ªand his bet paid off!


    Pearce tightened his grip, pushing Materazzi away, but it was too late. His focus snapped back to the ball just in time and his eyes widened.


    Larsson!


    Amid the congestion in the box, Colin Hendry, Pearce¡¯s partner in Blackburn¡¯s backline, tried to head the loose ball from Materazzi, but unexpectedly it bounced off his chest instead, causing his header to miss.


    "Oh no!"


    Larsson¡¯s eyes never left the ball. In the end, both Hendry and pearce couldn¡¯t stop Larsson, who had been running from a distance, preparing to leap.


    A superman jump!


    Tim Flowers instinctively tried to block, but his body seemed frozen.


    Standing by the post, he could only helplessly watch as the superman soared toward the ball.


    Richard closed his eyes, clenched his right hand into a fist, and pumped it vigorously up and down in front of him.


    Players on the bench and staff rushed out from behind, celebrating frantically.


    Rising from the ground, Larsson ignored the pained figure of Ian Pearce kneeling behind him and excitedly sprinted toward the sidelines.


    "And there it is! Henrik Larsson with a stunning leap and a powerful header that sends the ball crashing into the net! What a moment for City! Amidst a crowded penalty area, Larsson¡¯s timing was perfect, capitalizing on a lucky bounce off Hendry¡¯s chest and outjumping everyone. Tim Flowers was left frozen on the line¡ªhelpless as the ball flew past him. This goal could turn the tide of the game! What a brilliant display of skill and determination from City!"


    While everyone celebrated, O¡¯Neill turned toward Robbie Savage and Solskj?r, who were already waiting.


    "Do you understand the instructions?" he asked.


    Both nodded firmly.


    "Good," O¡¯Neill nodded, then turned to Materazzi, who was wildly celebrating, and yelled, "Marco, get back to defense. You¡¯re replacing Curle in the back. Stay calm. Don¡¯t give the opponents free kicks easily."


    Materazzi nodded decisively, and then O¡¯Neill addressed Shevchenko, "Drop back a bit. After Solskj?r comes in, support him and Larsson from behind."


    Manchester City 1 - 1 Blackburn Rovers


    PHWEEEE!


    The referee blew the whistle, and the match resumed with renewed intensity.


    Right after the substitution, whether it was a stray ball or an open-play attack, City¡¯s offensive surge was relentless; the ball came in, bounced out, and then came back again, creating a rhythm that left Blackburn in disarray.


    "What a turnaround! Against all odds, City have held off Blackburn Rovers ¡ª one of the most dangerous attacking sides in the Premier League with their iconic SaS duo!" Commentator said.


    "But credit where it¡¯s due ¡ª after conceding in the first half, City didn¡¯t crumble. Instead, they stood toe-to-toe and wrestled control back in the second half. And that first goal? It wasn¡¯t just a lifeline ¡ª it was a statement. Blackburn threw everything at them, but City stayed composed, resilient, and sharp." Co-commentator added.


    Indeed, there¡¯s a big difference between conceding first and coming back in the second half. When you score after being behind, especially after the break, it does something to the team ¡ª it lights a fire. It gives you belief.


    After more than eighty minutes of steady composure, Blackburn finally panicked.


    A draw here would mean a replay ¡ª something entirely unacceptable for a team trying to focus on defending their Premier League title.


    With no other choice, Harford instructed his players to push forward and play a high line.


    90+3 of 90+5.


    As the match entered its final two minutes, Blackburn¡¯s impatience became painfully visible. All three midfielders surged ahead, trying to overwhelm the City box with sheer numbers.


    Cross after cross came flying in ¡ª but one went out of bounds, another flew too high, even beyond Materazzi¡¯s towering reach. Then ¡ª the ball dropped perfectly near the penalty spot.


    The entire stadium held its breath. No one blinked. This could be it.


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    A massive sigh of disappointment erupted from Blackburn fans. City supporters, on the other hand, exhaled in collective relief.


    Cleared!


    Steve Finnan sent the ball flying, and by sheer fortune, it landed directly in Shevchenko¡¯s path.


    "Shevchenko!!!"


    City fans waved their arms frantically, roaring his name, willing him to charge.


    Blackburn¡¯s defense was completely exposed now ¡ª just two center-backs left scrambling.


    Shevchenko burst down the wing like a lightning bolt, cutting inside with a sharp feint. As he took two strides forward, Pearce lunged in to intercept.


    But Shevchenko didn¡¯t force it¡ªinstead, he slipped a quick pass to Larsson and continued his run at full speed, slicing through the line.


    Larsson, of course, understood the assignment.


    Rather than holding onto the ball, he immediately flicked it back to Shevchenko in a smooth one-two exchange.


    The sudden give-and-go left Pearce and Hendry flat-footed ¡ª caught out and no longer in pursuit.


    Shevchenko, already anticipating the return pass, darted into open space.


    A left-back scrambled to join the chase, and soon two more followed, desperately trying to close him down ¡ª but none could lay a finger on him.


    Then, like a coiled spring, Shevchenko unleashed a ferocious shot!


    Tim Flowers reacted instantly, diving low to his near post ¡ª and he guessed right.


    With cat-like reflexes, he parried the shot away!


    But fate had other plans.


    The ball spun across the box, skipping past him... and landed perfectly at the feet of Solskj?r ¡ª who appeared like a ghost at the far post, completely unmarked.


    In one fluid motion, without even breaking stride, Solskj?r lashed it home ¡ª drilling it into the bottom right corner with ruthless precision.


    PHWEEEEE!


    The referee¡¯s whistle blew just as the net rippled.


    Full-time!


    Manchester City 2 ¡ª 1 Blackburn Rovers.


    They had done it ¡ª City had toppled the reigning Premier League champions in dramatic fashion.


    The stadium erupted.


    A wall of sound crashed down from the stands ¡ª a deafening roar of disbelief, joy, and pure adrenaline.


    City fans leapt from their seats, arms flung skyward, hugging strangers and screaming into the cold night air. Flags whipped through the air. Scarves were tossed like confetti.


    Shevchenko was mobbed by teammates, but it was Solskj?r who disappeared beneath a sea of sky-blue shirts¡ªthe baby assassin who had delivered the killing blow.


    In the stands, Richard clenched both fists and let out a guttural yell, overwhelmed by the raw emotion of it all.


    On the touchline, O¡¯Neill, the coaches, substitutes¡ªeven backroom staff¡ªspilled onto the pitch, unable to contain themselves.


    Meanwhile, the Blackburn bench was stunned into silence. Players slumped to the turf. Pearce stared at the ground in disbelief. Flowers, still on one knee, pounded the grass in frustration ¡ª so close to being the hero, only to watch it slip away.


    The sound inside the stadium was now indescribable ¡ª an electric current of triumph. The kind of noise that shakes bones and echoes forever in memory.


    This wasn¡¯t just a goal.


    It was release.


    It was vindication.


    It was Manchester City announcing themselves to the world.

 Chapter 184: The Most Notorious One

    Chapter 184: The Most Notorious OneWithin the next three days, City secured a 2¨C0 victory over Southend United, extending their unbeaten run in the First Division to 15 consecutive matches.


    Thanks to Sunderland¡¯s loss to Reading and Derby County¡¯s draw against Leicester City, Manchester City climbed back to the top of the table. However, in a surprising turn of events, City suffered their first league defeat of the season in their next fixture¡ªan away match against Grimsby Town.


    Before the match, O¡¯Neill and the coaching staff were in a relaxed and confident mood, looking forward to the game.


    After all, they had already set a club record with 15 unbeaten matches. Jokingly, they said City would surely go on to reach a 20-game unbeaten streak¡ªor maybe even finish the season undefeated. They were taught a lesson to never underestimate their opponents.


    For this match, O¡¯Neill used the same squad that had defeated Blackburn, but took the opportunity to experiment, giving bench players valuable game time to showcase their progress¡ªthough the outcome was unexpected


    Grimsby Town 1 ¨C 0 Manchester City


    "Why are you experimenting in the League? Is it because of Grimsby Town?"


    When looking at the formation and the final score, Richard could not help but criticize O¡¯Neill and his staff for this decision.


    "Look, even if I say our targets this year include the FA Cup and the League Cup, everyone knows the league is still the priority."


    After all, Grimsby was supposed to be an easy opponent, but unexpectedly, City lost. This wasn¡¯t a defeat caused by bad luck or external factors, but because O¡¯Neill and his staff clearly underestimated them by fielding a rotated squad.


    Goalkeeper: Richard Wright


    Defenders: Richard Jobson, Materazzi, Keith Curle, Steve Finnan


    Midfielders: Steve Lomas, Jamie Pollock, Keith Gillespie, Graham fenton


    Forwards: Andriy Shevchenko, Henrik Larsson


    This is basically the formation he used when they were defeated by Grimsby Town.


    The 4-4-2 system for the game was also basically copied from Blackburn¡¯s strategy, where Steve Lomas and Graham Fenton were primarily given defensive duties, Jamie Pollock held the midfield, and Keith Gillespie played a holding role.


    Despite this cautious setup, City faced relentless attacks from Grimsby Town. The home team fired off 10 shots, with 6 on target, while Manchester City managed less than half of that. The final score was 1¨C0, marking City¡¯s first league loss of the season.


    O¡¯Neill argued that every player must get an equal opportunity, while Richard ruthlessly rejected that train of thought. For him, winning the game is the top priority.


    For the next two matches, City earned one draw and one win against Wolverhampton and Luton Town. Then, in the third match, they welcomed guests from South London.


    Richard looked at the calendar. Below the red circle around September 11¡ªtoday¡ªwas a line of small print: their opponent¡¯s name¡ªMillwall.


    He rubbed his temples instantly.


    Millwall had the most notorious football hooligans in the U.K.


    For Manchester City, today marked that time of year when the Greater Manchester Police were forced to partially abandon policing the Manchester United vs. Aston Villa game¡ªall because Millwall had arrived.


    About a hundred visiting fans had gathered outside the stadium and were slowly making their way toward Maine Road.


    Most ordinary City fans would consciously detour around this blue phalanx when they saw it. As a result, the group advanced without much interference. Of course, some fans were afraid¡ªand some were not.


    In fact, as soon as the Millwall fans began entering the area near the pitch, a handful of City supporters wearing sky blue jerseys were already shouting, cursing, and making obscene gestures in their direction.The Millwall fans responded with taunts and gestures of their own. But neither side crossed the line into violence.


    That was thanks to the presence of more than a dozen Greater Manchester Police officers in bright yellow vests, standing firmly between the two groups. Fully armed and hyper-alert, they watched both sides with sharp, unwavering focus.


    Millwall was one of the few football clubs in the world whose fans were more infamous than the club itself.


    As a small team from South London, Millwall had little to boast about in terms of trophies or star players. But they had something else¡ªthe most fearless group of fans in the U.K., and arguably, the world.


    At a nearby intersection, Millwall Bushwackers came to a halt, tightly corralled by the surrounding police. They were held there temporarily, waiting for the Manchester City team bus to pass through. Even while standing still, the group radiated tension, surrounded by a chorus of jeers from nearby City fans.


    Then came the signal: a horn blared three times from up ahead.


    The crowd shifted as a large blue bus slowly rolled into view.


    In an instant, the Millwall fans forgot the heckling from City supporters. Their eyes locked onto the team bus. A wave of aggression rippled through them. Some crouched down, searching the pavement for bricks or bottles¡ªanything they could throw at the passing vehicle.


    Thankfully, the two lines of police held their ground, shoving back the more unruly fans and keeping them from crossing the invisible boundary.


    Even though the bus¡¯s windows were tightly sealed and soundproofed, the players inside could still feel the venom from outside. Through the glass, they saw twisted faces and puckered lips hurling a relentless barrage of abuse¡ª"fck this," "fck that"¡ªand a sea of raised middle fingers.


    Inside the bus, reactions varied. For those who had never experienced anything like this before, the tension was obvious. But for others¡ªlike O¡¯Neill and the veteran players¡ªit was nothing new. They¡¯d seen it all before.


    One of the most visibly shaken was Trezeguet. This was his first taste of a hostile sea of people with nothing but bad intentions.


    Sitting beside him, Solskj?r noticed the younger player¡¯s nervous expression. He followed Trezeguet¡¯s gaze to the chaos outside and gave a small chuckle, clearly unfazed.


    "David," he said calmly, "this is kids¡¯ stuff. Just wait till we get on the pitch. I promise¡ªyou haven¡¯t seen anything yet."


    When the match began, Trezeguet fully realized that what Ole had said was true. Just because their opponent was Millwall, the entire atmosphere of the stadium had changed.


    The visiting fans were relentless¡ªsinging loudly from their stands, constantly changing the lyrics of their chants to mock City players. Though they were fewer in number, they easily overpowered the home crowd in volume.


    Unable to stomach the humiliation, the die-hard City fans¡ªled by none other than the same middle-aged man Richard had once met at the bar run by Ric Turner, founder of the BlueMoon website¡ªlaunched a fiery counterattack of their own, hurling a barrage of foul-mouthed insults back at the Bushwackers.


    And of course, just as roast turkey is a staple of Christmas dinner, no exchange of vulgarities would be complete without a volley of raised middle fingers.


    From outside the stadium, anyone hearing the raucous noise might have assumed it was a sellout crowd.


    For today¡¯s match, Richard had chosen to close the director¡¯s box¡ªhe had no interest in being present for such a volatile fixture.


    For games like this, the club usually coordinated in advance with the FA, stadium management, and local police to deliberately reduce ticket sales. That freed up buffer zones in the stands to act as safety barriers between rival fan groups.


    As for the match itself¡ªit was far less thrilling than the war of words in the stands.


    Millwall tried hard, but it was futile. Once City fielded their strongest lineup, Millwall never stood a chance. They were overrun and beaten with hardly a fight.


    When Ronaldo scored his 16th goal of the season¡ªCity¡¯s third of the match¡ªthe visitors completely lost their spirit. From that moment, the result was inevitable.


    "And there it is¡ªRonaldo! Goal number sixteen this season, and what a way to do it! He makes it look effortless! Millwall are stunned, and you can feel the life drain out of their defense. That goal surely seals it¡ªManchester City are cruising now!"


    But Millwall¡¯s fans weren¡¯t ready to concede defeat so easily.


    From the stands, they resumed hurling abuse at City¡¯s players and fans alike. Fights even broke out between some supporters and the police tasked with maintaining order.


    Fortunately, the clashes were quickly brought under control. It wasn¡¯t just the Millwall team fighting an uphill battle away from home¡ªit was their fans, too. Only, they didn¡¯t seem to realize that sometimes, hollering and a few curse words were the safest, and perhaps even healthiest, way to let it all out.


    "Why did you close the director¡¯s box?"


    Standing beside Richard was his father, Bryan Maddox clad proudly in a full sky blue kit, scarf and all, looking both confused and slightly annoyed. He jabbed a thumb toward the upper stands. "We always sit up there for big matches. And now you¡¯re telling me we¡¯re watching from here? Not even in the crowd?"


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡¯Wasn¡¯t the whole reason I closed it to keep you out of trouble up there? But he didn¡¯t say it aloud.¡¯


    His father had changed¡ªand so had his mother. The most obvious sign? His dad¡¯s belly.


    It had grown noticeably rounder, as if he¡¯d swallowed a beach ball and decided to wear it to every game. He was also far more outspoken now¡ªmuch more than Richard remembered from his younger days.


    Maybe it was the result of all the traveling. Richard had always encouraged his parents to explore, to go overseas, and embrace life beyond the usual routine. Somewhere along the way, that openness to adventure had transformed them.


    Leaving his father behind, Richard made his way over to his mother, Anna who was standing by one of the food stalls, eyeing a box of fish and chips with the kind of skeptical look usually reserved for suspicious meat pies.


    "How is it, Mom?"


    She squinted at the overly greasy fillet perched on a pile of soggy fries. "Richard, it¡¯s too pilly," she said, her mouth still full of fried food.


    "Too what?"


    "Too oily. You probably need some fruit and juice to balance it out." S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard chuckled. If they sold fruit at football matches, it would probably go bad before anyone bought it.


    "Do you want me to get you another one?"


    "No, love. I¡¯m not queuing again for twenty minutes just to end up with another box of disappointment. I¡¯ll manage." She dabbed at the excess oil with a napkin. "Anyway, what happened to your father?"


    "Nah, no worries about that."


    Hearing this, his mother shifted her attention back to another culinary adventure along Maine Road.


    After finishing with his mother, Richard rejoined his father.


    "Richard! Will there be any changes in this match?"


    "What do you think will change? We¡¯re already up by three goals."


    "That¡¯s good then. Remember what you said¡ªyou¡¯re going to get the team into the Premier League next season!"


    Richard wanted to laugh every time he heard his father say that.

 Chapter 185: Sudden Offer from United

    Chapter 185: Sudden Offer from UnitedNovember and December were expected to be smooth sailing after the Millwall match.


    Most of City¡¯s upcoming opponents were struggling near the bottom of the table¡ªwith the exception of Leicester City, who were currently holding a strong sixth place in the First Division.


    "We have six matches in the First Division, two in the League Cup, and one in the FA Cup second round ¡ª which means we¡¯ve got nine matches in the span of two months," Richard said, tapping his finger on the fixture list.


    He looked around the room, eyes settling on each member of the staff.


    "That¡¯s a lot of football. And if we want to come out of this stretch with our momentum intact, we need to manage it smartly ¡ª squad rotation, injury prevention, recovery sessions, all of it."


    As the chairman who brought the vision to develop Manchester City through a modern high-performance team led by Fevre and Schlumberger, Richard had no choice ¡ª it fell on him to act as the bridge between them and O¡¯Neill¡¯s coaching staff.


    It wasn¡¯t an ideal setup. The concept itself was foreign, and O¡¯Neill, along with his staff, likely felt that their authority was being threatened by the involvement of outside parties in managing the team.


    Thankfully, for now, adjustments had gone smoothly. There were no clashes ¡ª and Richard sighed in relief because of it.


    Fixture 19: Charlton Athletic vs Manchester City (The Valley Stadium)


    Buoyed by their recent 3¨C0 win over Millwall, City played with confidence. They pressed hard, turned every challenge into a physical battle, and slowed the tempo whenever possible. If they couldn¡¯t beat Charlton, they¡¯d make sure Charlton suffered for every inch of space.


    For the first 30 minutes, it worked.


    Charlton¡¯s midfield stayed compact, forcing Roberto Carlos and Cafu to recycle possession while relentlessly bombarding the flanks. Even Matt Jackson, the on-loan player from Premier League side Everton, was overwhelmed by their constant overlapping runs.


    The deadlock broke in the 34th minute ¡ª and it was Roberto Carlos who finished the job.


    A free-kick, 25 yards out, just slightly left of center.


    Roberto Carlos stood over the ball, his gaze sharp, focused like a sniper aiming for the top corner. The stadium held its breath.


    PHWEEE!


    The whistle blew.


    He took a measured step back, then approached with a fluid run-up. His powerful left foot connected perfectly, sending the ball soaring with an impossible curve.


    It curled over the wall ¡ª a solid barrier of outstretched arms and tense muscles ¡ª before dipping suddenly, as if guided by a magnetic force.


    The goalkeeper leapt, fingertips brushing the ball, but it was too late.


    The net bulged.


    The roar from the City fans was deafening.


    Roberto Carlos had just turned the game on its head.


    For the rest of the match, O¡¯Neill instructed the team to take it easy, knowing they had another tough game just three days later.


    Still, City¡¯s players didn¡¯t let up completely. They stayed disciplined, maintained control of the ball, and finally broke through in the 44th minute before halftime.


    Every time Charlton tried to push forward, Ferdinand and Gallas were there like shadows, cutting off every passing lane and shutting down their options.


    Van Bommel, reading the hesitation in Charlton¡¯s midfield as they prepared to launch another long pass, seized the moment. He stole the ball just as the midfielder, unaware of his surroundings, prepared to pass.


    With the crowd roaring behind him, Van Bommel¡¯s momentum carried him into a slight shove against his opponent¡ªmaking Richard in the stands gasp at the unnecessary push. But luckily, the referee let play continue.


    Van Bommel surged forward, scanning for teammates making runs ahead. His vision was sharp¡ªhe spotted a perfectly timed short pass to Roberto Carlos charging down the left flank.


    Receiving the ball, Roberto Carlos didn¡¯t hesitate. With precision, he delivered a perfectly weighted through ball, threading it between two defenders and slicing Charlton¡¯s backline wide open.


    Ahead, Ronaldo was already making a ruthless run, exploiting the space as Charlton¡¯s right-back was distracted by Roberto Carlos.


    One-on-one with the keeper, Ronaldo showed no doubt.


    Low, precise, and ruthless ¡ª the ball hit the back of the net.


    Ronaldo finished the job.


    Another win. Another clean sheet.


    Full-time: Charlton Athletic 0 ¨C 2 Manchester City


    For the next three matches, City will face Sheffield United and Norwich City, followed by a League Cup tie against Peterborough United.


    In the 20th fixture against Sheffield United, O¡¯Neill chose to rest Roberto Carlos and Cafu, replacing them with Richard Jobson and Steve Finnan.


    The game may have lacked the usual flair and excitement, but City got the job done.


    With a solid, no-nonsense performance, they secured all three points with a narrow 1¨C0 victory ¡ª and once again, it was Ronaldo who made the difference.


    Even without the usual firepower of Roberto Carlos and Cafu, Ronaldo shouldered the responsibility with ease. He dropped deep when needed, ran at defenders with menace, and created chances seemingly out of nothing.


    His goal ¡ª a low, driven shot into the bottom corner after dancing past two defenders ¡ª was a moment of brilliance in an otherwise cagey affair.


    By full-time, there was no debate ¡ª Ronaldo had once again stolen the spotlight, claiming his eleventh Man of the Match award with yet another commanding performance.


    In the 21st fixture, City unexpectedly drew 0-0 with Norwich City, who clearly parked the bus, frustrating City¡¯s players throughout the match.


    This result allowed Sunderland to close the gap, now just two point behind City at the top of the table.


    Leaving Carrow Road in frustration, City promised to bounce back in their next match.


    Sure enough, Peterborough United¡¯s London Road Stadium became the stage for City¡¯s fierce response.


    0-6!


    City completely dominated Peterborough United on their own turf.


    In this match, O¡¯Neill deployed Larsson and Shevchenko up front, and both delivered brilliantly, each scoring two goals.


    In the second half, Solskj?r and Trezeguet came on as substitutes for Larsson and Shevchenko, and unexpectedly, they also left their mark in the final minutes of the match.


    Solskj?r scored with a header, followed by Trezeguet!


    The Frenchman finally made his mark for City!


    The credit definitely cannot be taken away from Steve Finnan, who in this match rotated in for Cafu. His style of play was probably influenced by Cafu¡ªhe was basically a nightmare for Peterborough¡¯s left-back.


    A burst of acceleration, a drop of the shoulder, and he was gone¡ªslicing through Peterborough¡¯s flank like a blade through silk. Finnan then raced to the byline with purpose before whipping in a pinpoint cross to the far post.


    There, lurking between the center-backs, was David Trezeguet.


    He didn¡¯t need to look¡ªhis movement was instinctive. He rose with perfect timing, meeting the ball with a firm, glancing header that left the goalkeeper rooted to the spot.


    A simple finish.


    Trezeguet had arrived. A goal crafted with intelligence and precision¡ªa striker¡¯s finish from a player finally stamping his name on the scoresheet.


    League Cup: Peterborough United 0 - 6 Manchester City


    Following the emphatic victory over Peterborough United, City finally entered a brief period of rest.


    That¡¯s because, in the final week before entering December, there was a scheduled friendly match between England and the Republic of Ireland in Dublin as part of the preparations for Euro 1996.


    During this break period, when Richard arrived at Maine Road, he was taken aback to see Rio Ferdinand already there¡ªan hour early, before training had even begun.


    Out of all 25 players in the current main squad, there were certainly a few with a strong work ethic¡ªplayers who made a habit of showing up early. But Ferdinand? Never.


    This was a first. And as Richard slowly realized why, he could only sigh helplessly. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Even though City had been dominating week after week, Rio still couldn¡¯t break into the England squad.


    Terry Venables continued to favor established names like Sol Campbell, Steve Bould, John Scales, Steve Howey, Neil Ruddock, Gary Pallister, and Gareth Southgate.


    Richard decided not to disturb Rio Ferdinand, who was probably not in the best of moods.


    The friendly match between England and the Republic of Ireland did not affect City much, as they continued their activities as usual.


    City then shifted their focus to the fixture list moving into December.


    This month, they will face Scunthorpe United in the FA Cup, followed by Leicester City, Huddersfield Town, and Portsmouth in the First Division. However, before we dive into City¡¯s matches, something unexpected happened.


    Unexpectedly, on the day of the match, just moments before the much-anticipated friendly between England and the Republic of Ireland was set to kick off in Dublin, shocking news broke: the match had been abandoned.


    The reason? A disturbing outbreak of violence in the stands, triggered by a small group of English supporters¡ªmany believed to be affiliated with far-right extremist groups.


    Officials had no choice but to call off the match for the safety of everyone involved.


    What was meant to be a celebration of football and friendly international relations had devolved into an ugly reminder of the darker elements that sometimes follow the game.


    Back in England, the FA and public figures swiftly condemned the actions, and investigations were launched into how these groups had gained access to the stadium in the first place.


    Richard didn¡¯t react much upon reading the news in the newspaper. However, just as he was about to put the paper down, the fax machine in his office suddenly rang.


    When he read the fax, he was stumped. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the details.


    [


    Sender: Club Secretary


    Subject: Official Bid Received ¨C Ole Gunnar Solskj?r


    Club: Manchester United (England ¨C English Premier League)


    Bid: ¡ê2.5 million + add-ons


    Contract Proposal: Four-year deal, rotation-team role


    ]


    Richard let out a slow breath. Now that was a serious club knocking at the door. He¡¯d expected some interest in Solskj?r, but figured it¡¯d come after the season wrapped up. Right?


    Historically, Ole was always meant to join United, and honestly, Richard didn¡¯t mind the idea of selling him there... unless¡ª


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


    Someone knocked at the door. It was Marina Granovskaia, holding the exact same fax.


    Marina pulled a chair up to the desk and immediately asked Richard, "What do you think about it?"


    Richard leaned back, tapping his fingers on the desk. "Do you know why Manchester United is suddenly targeting Ole? There¡¯s no way they¡¯d make a bid on their city rival unless they were desperate. Do you know why?"


    Hearing Richard say "city rival," Marina thought he was joking. But seeing his serious expression, she decided to bring him back to reality.


    She shook her head. "There¡¯s no need to consider us rivals just yet¡ªnot while we¡¯re still in the First Division and they¡¯re in the Premier League."


    Richard was silent for a moment.


    Well... she was right.


    She continued, "As for why they¡¯re targeting our players, look at this." She handed Richard a newspaper, which featured the latest rumors for the upcoming winter transfer window.


    The headline caught Richard¡¯s eye immediately: it was about striker Alan Shearer, who had just joined Newcastle United for a world-record ¡ê15 million.


    Richard¡¯s eyes jumped instantly.


    Why were all the world-record transfers that were supposed to happen in next summer¡¯s transfer market suddenly happening right now?


    "So basically, it¡¯s an offer for Ole as a backup to Eric Cantona and Andy Cole, with only occasional first-team opportunities, am I right? What does Ole say about this? And what¡¯s O¡¯Neill¡¯s response?"


    Marina shook her head at Richard¡¯s question. "You forgot one thing," she said. "Eric Cantona is still banned from playing, which means he¡¯s not eligible to appear in their League Cup, FA Cup and UEFA Cup campaigns."


    That¡¯s because the one who punished Cantona for his kung-fu kick was the FA. And since the Premier League has now separated from the English FA, they no longer have control over it. For the Premier League, Cantona¡¯s kung-fu kick was exposure, so they allowed him, while the FA banned him


    Richard rubbed his chin.


    Which meant¡ªif Ole joined United...


    Only then did Richard realize it.


    "Does that mean Ole already has the intention to leave?" Richard couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    Marina nodded. "I¡¯ve already spoken to him. He wishes to leave. Right now at City, he can¡¯t break past Ronaldo and Larsson."


    Richard opened his mouth, wanting to say something about the situation¡ªbut in the end, he remained silent.


    Indeed, with Trezeguet recently scoring, competition at City was becoming even more intense.


    United, on the other hand, currently had only two reliable strikers¡ªEric Cantona and Andy Cole¡ªwhich meant that if Ole joined them, his chances would be wide open, especially with the added temptation of playing in the UEFA Cup while Cantona was definitely absent.


    ¡¯Do they really want to make him a first-team player?¡¯ Richard couldn¡¯t help but mutter in his heart.


    Because deep down, he knew the answer. How could he explain to Solskj?r that whether he stayed at City or moved to United, at the end of the day, he¡¯d still be a super-sub... and nothing would really change?


    "Do you want to intervene in it?" Marina asked, and Richard shook his head.


    "What about O¡¯Neill?" He then asked.


    "I was just about to reach out to him."


    "Hmmm." Richard fell silent again, lost in thought.


    The offer was tempting, to be honest. But ¡ê2.5 million? Hah.


    Richard knew that if United were really making a move for a player from Manchester City, then the only person driving the transfer was Alex Ferguson himself. Which meant that unless the price was truly unreasonable, they wouldn¡¯t back down.


    That¡¯s how Manchester United operated¡ªtheir ego was still too big, especially after just being humiliated by Newcastle in the race to sign Alan Shearer.


    So, Richard wasn¡¯t ready to let Ole go. Not yet.


    "On hold," Richard said. "Let O¡¯Neill try to persuade Solskj?r to stay first."


    And sell him next season with a more fantastic price. Well, if United are truly desperate for Solskj?r, Richard didn¡¯t mind to ripped their wallet.

 Chapter 186: Meeting Arsène Wenger again

    Chapter 186: Meeting Ars¨¨ne Wenger againRichard left all transfer matters regarding Solskj?r to Marina Granovskaia, as he had other business to attend to. He was flying to the United States¡ªfor the Netscape IPO!


    Well, to be honest, it wasn¡¯t an IPO ¡ª it was a pre-IPO sale or secondary transaction, where he could sell some of his shares privately to another company.


    A week ago, he had received a call from Jim Clark, the founder of Netscape. It wasn¡¯t just a casual check-in¡ªClark had something important to ask, so he got straight to the point.


    "Richard, I need your approval on something big," Jim said. "We¡¯re planning to issue new shares in response to AOL¡¯s inquiries about investing in Netscape¡¯s development."


    In short, Clark wanted to dilute the existing shareholders (including Richard) so that Netscape could issue new shares and sell them to AOL.


    In many companies, decisions like issuing new shares or making significant equity changes require board approval or a shareholder vote. But since Netscape was a private company with only two major shareholders, Clark needed Richard¡¯s consent.


    AOL? Richard was taken aback.


    AOL¡ªor America Online¡ªwas a major web portal and online service provider based in New York City.


    Jim continued, "In return, we¡¯ll get access to their infrastructure ¡ª servers, bandwidth, and distribution channels. And when we go public, this will light the fuse."


    "So you want to dilute both of our stakes before the IPO?"


    "I know how it sounds," Jim admitted, "but it¡¯s strategic. This isn¡¯t just about cash. It¡¯s about getting Netscape into the public spotlight, fast. AOL has the reach and influence to make us a household name before we even ring the opening bell."


    Richard stayed quiet, thinking. On paper, his 40% stake would shrink significantly. But if AOL¡¯s involvement pushed Netscape¡¯s valuation into the stratosphere ¡ª maybe it was worth it.


    ¡¯And I also need the cash for Adidas. And looking at Netscape¡¯s current valuation...¡¯


    $150 million. If Netscape suddenly announced a partnership with AOL, that number could easily jump. Maybe even hit a billion. After all, Netscape already had 3 million users ¡ª add AOL¡¯s 20 million into the mix, the potential was explosive.


    Richard sighed. It wasn¡¯t the deal he would¡¯ve picked because he knew the true value of Netscape could reach even $4 billion! ¡ª but in this game, leverage came before control. If AOL¡¯s involvement could 10x the IPO valuation as quickly as possible...


    Maybe giving up a slice now was worth the whole pie later. Or... maybe it was time to sell it entirely?


    At the end of the day, Richard couldn¡¯t just help by attending the business personally since it involved billions.


    He first went home to his house in London, Wilmington Square Garden, to meet with his parents before finally making his way to London Heathrow Airport.


    Richard stepped into the airport lounge and immediately ordered a cup of orange juice and some pastries from the server before looking for a seat. He set his leisure bag down by his feet, took off his warm scarf, and unbuttoned his coat before settling in.


    While waiting for his order, Richard asked the staff if they had a radio and a private room so he could keep up with the City vs. Scunthorpe United FA Cup match. Thankfully, they did, and Richard immediately asked to be moved there.


    "And we¡¯re just 12 minutes into the game here at Glanford Park! City¡¯s captain, Cafu, steps up to take the corner... he swings it in beautifully... and there¡¯s Ferdinand rising above the defenders! What a perfect header ¡ª and that¡¯s City on the board with the opening goal! Absolutely clinical!"


    Scunthorpe United 0 - 1 Manchester City


    The energy at Glanford Park was buzzing right from the beginning as City had already found the back of the net against Scunthorpe United.


    "Ferdinand gets the ball... he quickly passes to Gallas... Gallas lays it off to Cafu once again. Cafu charges down the right flank, cuts inside, and sends a precise cross into the box¡ªLarsson meets it perfectly! GOAL! What an exquisite build-up from City!"


    By the 37th minute, City had doubled their lead, making it 2-0 just before the halftime whistle.


    And by the end of the match, Larsson scored another goal, followed by Ronaldo, and then Neil Lennon unleashed a stunning long-range shot to complete a perfect 5-0 victory for City.


    This win marked a record-breaking 11 goals scored in just two matches¡ªfollowing their 6-0 thrashing of Peterborough United!


    Richard smiled quietly when he heard the final whistle and the announcement of City¡¯s victory. Just as he was about to rise from his seat, he suddenly heard someone conversing just outside his room.


    "I¡¯m sorry, sir, but there are no more private rooms available in the lounge," the staff apologized.


    "No worries," came the familiar reply, calm and measured. "I can wait here."


    "Well, if you need anything, just let me know," the staff said, trying to maintain professionalism.


    "Thank you," the familiar voice responded politely. "I appreciate it."


    Richard paused, listening closely. Definitely, he recognized who was speaking. ¡¯Who is it?¡¯


    Curious, he rose from his seat and opened the door¡ªonly to freeze in surprise.


    "Mr. Wenger?!"


    Ars¨¨ne Wenger stood there in the hallway.


    The current head coach of AS Monaco.


    ¡¯Wait¡ªshouldn¡¯t he be in France? What¡¯s he doing here in London? Don¡¯t tell me... is this another butterfly effect?!¡¯


    As Richard stepped out of the room, the man standing by the lounge counter turned to glance at him. For a moment, there was no sign of recognition¡ªjust a polite, neutral gaze. But Richard smiled and stepped forward confidently, hand extended.


    "Mr. Wenger, a pleasure," he said.


    Ars¨¨ne Wenger, still caught off guard, reached out and shook his hand politely. "Ah... thank you," he said with a slight nod, clearly trying to place the face in front of him.


    "I¡¯m Richard," he added. "I¡¯m the chairman of Manchester City. Remember? We met last year."


    Wenger¡¯s eyes widened slightly. "Ah..." His expression shifted in an instant as realization set in.


    Indeed¡ªManchester City. They had tried to recruit him previously, but the deal fell through in the end. If he remembered correctly, the club was now in the hands of Martin O¡¯Neill.


    Wenger politely shook Richard¡¯s hand with a warm smile. "Congratulations on City¡¯s promotion last season ¡ª well deserved."


    Richard smiled at the congratulations, giving a modest nod. "Thank you. It wasn¡¯t easy, but the team pulled through in the end."


    Wenger gave a thoughtful nod, his posture relaxed but curious. "Mr. Richard, are you on a business trip?"


    "Yes," Richard replied. Then, as a thought crossed his mind, he gestured toward the room behind him.


    "Mr. Wenger, Please¡ªif you don¡¯t mind the company, would you care to join me? The lounge staff mentioned there were no more private rooms, and well... mine isn¡¯t that big, but it¡¯s quiet."


    Wenger hesitated for only a second before offering a polite smile. "That¡¯s very kind of you. I¡¯d appreciate it."


    Richard stepped aside and held the door open for him. "After you, Mr. Wenger."


    As Wenger entered the room, Richard followed, closing the door gently behind them. "I must say, I didn¡¯t expect to run into you here." Then, after a brief pause, he began to probe, "But Mr. Wenger, what are you doing here in London? Are you..."


    He was about to say "Arsenal" but decided not to.


    "Nothing, I¡¯m just here for a little trip," Wenger replied with a smile. Since he didn¡¯t want to elaborate, Richard didn¡¯t press the matter.


    Soon, the two of them started chatting, and surprisingly, the conversation shifted to Richard¡¯s ideas about the High Performance Team he¡¯d set up at City.


    Wenger raised his eyebrows, genuinely interested. "You actually have a team just for that?"


    "Yeah," Richard replied, "It¡¯s not perfect yet, but it¡¯s a good start."


    Wenger smiled, a little wistfully. "I tried something similar at Monaco¡ªbetter nutrition, improved training methods¡ªbut the board thought it was too ¡¯unorthodox.¡¯" He shook his head slightly. "That¡¯s probably why we¡¯ve been struggling this season. They ended up letting me go. Luckily, I¡¯ve already been invited to coach another club."


    Richard¡¯s heart skipped a bit at this.


    "Can you guess where I¡¯m headed?" he then asked Richard.


    "...London?"


    "Hahaha..." Wenger laughed before shaking his head. "I¡¯ll be off to Japan by the end of the month."


    The professor was heading to Japan!


    And Richard certainly knew it was Nagoya Grampus in the J-League.


    What Monaco couldn¡¯t give him¡ªhis aspirations for nutrition and new training methods¡ªhe would pursue in Japan first, before finally establishing his foundation and bringing those methods to Arsenal.


    In fact, Richard also knew that historically, Ars¨¨ne Wenger is regarded by many as the trailblazer who introduced continental European methods to England: his emphasis on nutrition and improved training techniques at Arsenal, starting in 1996, is often credited with raising the standards of English football.


    Richard stayed silent for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts. Wenger glanced at him, puzzled.


    "What¡¯s wrong? You¡¯re not surprised at all?" he asked.


    Richard blinked, coming back to the moment. He gave a small nod. "I¡¯m just... at a loss for words."


    "Hahaha," Wenger laughed again at this.


    They soon talked about current English football, including the cancelled match between the Three Lions and Ireland.


    To Wenger¡¯s surprise, many parties were blaming the chaos on Manchester United fans, which left him puzzled.


    "Yes, I heard the news¡ªand to be honest, it¡¯s a bit much, isn¡¯t it? Why do you think people in this country seem to harbor such animosity towards Manchester United? From what I¡¯ve learned in France, shouldn¡¯t they be the most beloved club in Britain?"


    Wenger furrowed his brow, clearly puzzled.


    "Well, that¡¯s a complex issue." Richard didn¡¯t elaborate further, as it was a sensitive topic for him¡ªafter all, he owned the club that was United¡¯s city rival.


    The history of English football stretches back over a century. If it were just an ordinary sport or pastime, it wouldn¡¯t have grown into such a monumental phenomenon¡ªor earned its place as Britain¡¯s most beloved game.


    Football is a war waged in times of peace. It¡¯s woven with politics, culture, tradition, economics, history, and raw human emotion¡ªall clashing together in a blazing spectacle.


    Open a map of England, and you¡¯ll quickly find the towns and cities where football has ignited fierce rivalries and unforgettable stories. In England, the football scene never falls silent¡ªbecause here, the fires of competition burn endlessly.


    In truth, during the 1995/96 season, Manchester United was widely disliked, mostly because of how successful and dominant they had become.


    Fans of rival clubs often saw them as arrogant or entitled¡ªthough it was the media who first provoked United with their famous line, "You¡¯ll never win anything with kids," after the club sold stars like Paul Ince, Mark Hughes, and Andrei Kanchelskis.


    But United proved everyone wrong with the emergence of the Class of ¡¯92¡ªBeckham, Scholes, Butt, and the Neville brothers. Their success earned admiration from some, but also intensified the dislike from others, especially because they had defied the odds.


    Add to that Eric Cantona¡¯s controversies, along with growing rivalries with Liverpool, Arsenal, and a title-chasing Newcastle¡ªand you get a picture of something that wasn¡¯t exactly hatred, but more a case of jealousy.


    Both continued chatting for quite some time until Richard began sharing more openly¡ªdiscussing his City-building philosophy, operational systems, and even the club¡¯s broader vision¡ªtopics well beyond the usual coach¡¯s purview, which this time made Wenger unable to sit still.


    "You want to limit the manager¡¯s authority, right? That¡¯s why you created the director of football and sporting director roles out of nowhere?"


    For Ars¨¨ne Wenger, who adopts the traditional view that the manager holds full control of his team, Richard¡¯s view was very unacceptable to him.


    "No, I see the role as a bit like the conductor of an orchestra," but Richard gave his opinion differently. "Their role is to sit between the head coach and the board/owners in a club¡¯s hierarchy. They are expected to provide a clear vision, oversee all the departments, and have the ability to manage up and down."


    "..."


    "Because that¡¯s a role where you¡¯ve got to have a good range of knowledge ¡ª you need to know about the technical side, use of data, regulations and laws, about the economy as you¡¯re managing budgets/salaries, psychology so you can manage the team, staff and board. It¡¯s not an easy role." Richard continued.


    "But how do you define success in the role? Isn¡¯t that trickier and harder to judge than with a manager, for example?"


    "It¡¯s easy as long as an organization knows where they want to go," Richard said.


    From his perspective, to be honest, the role was like a bin.


    Tomorrow, you might receive a call from the owner saying, "We¡¯re not winning," or from the head coach saying, "We¡¯re not performing," or from the academy saying, "We¡¯re losing this player," or from an agent saying, "My player is not playing," or the same complaint from a player.


    You are often the first point of contact for people to offload their concerns. So rather than the manager, the role actually helps to share the burden by handling issues that aren¡¯t related to match preparation. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For Richard, of course, this was an advantage since he was also the owner who held the reins, allowing him to steer City however he wanted. He was the one who drew up the plan and then drove it forward, just like the current high-performance team he envisioned.


    All that Richard said left Wenger silent¡ªhe couldn¡¯t find the words to respond. On one hand, he wanted to reject the idea outright; on the other, he could see the benefits it offered. Every system had its strengths and weaknesses, after all.


    But Richard¡¯s vision struck a nerve, making Wenger¡¯s head ache as he wrestled with the conflicting feelings.


    The traditional manager in him resisted the notion of ceding control, yet the practical side acknowledged that perhaps this new approach was the future.


    He sighed deeply, realizing this conversation was more challenging than any tactical debate on the pitch.


    Just then, a voice came over the airport speaker system, announcing that a flight to Illinois, United States, was now boarding.


    The sudden interruption broke the silence in the room.


    Richard glanced toward the door, then back at Wenger with a small smile. "It seems my time here is up. But this conversation... it¡¯s given me a lot to think about."


    Hearing this, Wenger nodded in understanding, then stood up and offered Richard a handshake. "Safe travels. I hope you arrive safely."


    As Richard gathered his things and headed for the gate, Wenger watched him go, still mulling over the ideas they had exchanged.


    The future of football¡ªand his vision¡ªfelt a little clearer now.

 Chapter 187: Suspicious People in the Stands

    Chapter 187: Suspicious People in the StandsManchester City was set to face Leicester City on December 22, and with both teams neck-and-neck in the league table, there was no reason for either side to hold back.


    City wanted to top the league, while Leicester City was chasing a playoff spot. With the holiday fixture congestion looming, this match could very well tip the balance for the rest of the season.


    As the players warmed up under the overcast skies of the Filbert Street Stadium, Emile Heskey jogged across the pitch, a quiet smile forming as he spotted a few familiar faces in the Manchester City lineup.


    He exchanged quick handshakes and brief embraces with former teammates, the camaraderie still lingering despite the club switch.


    Then, standing near the technical area, Martin O¡¯Neill¡ªhis former manager¡ªoffered a nod and a knowing smile.


    Heskey walked over, and the two shared a firm handshake, followed by a few words that only they could hear, rich with history and mutual respect.


    O¡¯Neill gave him a brief pat on the back, a gesture that spoke volumes. The moment was brief, but heartfelt¡ªproof that while clubs change, some football connections never fade.


    Back to the match, O¡¯Neill opted to field his strongest lineup, and Leicester City did the same.


    Mark McGhee, Leicester¡¯s current manager, had clearly studied Manchester City¡¯s tactics. He didn¡¯t want his team to expend too much energy attacking recklessly, so he allowed them to sit back tightly in defense.


    They started the game cautiously, aiming to control the pace and wait for counterattacking opportunities to secure a win.


    Thus, Manchester City came out swinging right from the start. They knew they had to seize the momentum¡ªand they did.


    With relentless sprints and rapid-fire passing, they played on the front foot, pushing the game¡¯s tempo to an electrifying, almost uncontrollable level.


    "We exploit Julian Watts today¡ªattack down the left side. Ronaldo, you will be the main threat cutting inside and creating chances. Keep the pressure high and look for openings."


    The makeshift duo of Simon Grayson and Julian Watts have been deployed at the back due to a spate of minor injuries among their regular defenders. This has forced manager Mark McGhee to field the inexperienced Watts. So it¡¯s no surprise where City¡¯s attackers will look to exploit¡ªright through the heart of that fragile defense.


    That was O¡¯Neill¡¯s instruction before the match began.


    Leicester City are trying to contain Manchester City¡¯s attack, but City¡¯s relentless pressing is leaving them overwhelmed. They¡¯re now scrambling defensively, and even Mark Robins, Leicester¡¯s key player and main creative outlet, has been forced to drop deeper and contribute defensively.


    Well, even if he goes all out on the attack, Robins remains completely isolated from the game. Robbie Savage¡¯s tight marking has been spot on, denying him any space or time on the ball, limiting Robins to mainly defensive contributions.


    Leicester City are using a 5-4-1 formation, while City stick to a 4-2-2 setup. Since Leicester are sitting deep, O¡¯Neill needs his players¡¯ creativity to pull defenders out of position and open up space for others to attack.


    At the 41st minute, once again Leicester City successfully thwarted a Manchester City attack.


    For the past 40 minutes, the strike duo of Ronaldo and Larsson have struggled to find space up front, largely because Leicester¡¯s midfielders have been sitting deep and focusing on defense. This crowded space has stifled their creativity in attack, making it difficult for City¡¯s forwards to find space or service.


    This situation ultimately continued until the end of the first half, which concluded with the score still level.


    City had fought hard, creating chances but failing to find a breakthrough. Their main players and fans were growing increasingly frustrated with Leicester City¡¯s defensive style of play.


    PHWEEE!


    In the second half, the first five minutes unfolded much like before¡ªtight and cautious.


    O¡¯Neill knew it was time to make a change.


    He was ready to bring on Solskj?r, hoping to rely on the young striker¡¯s intelligence and knack for finding space to unlock Leicester¡¯s stubborn defense.


    As Solskj?r warmed up on the sideline, two figures seated quietly in the velvet-lined VIP section suddenly lit up with interest. Had Richard been present, he would have recognized them instantly.


    One was Martin Edwards, the Chairman of Manchester United¡ªa powerful figure in English football and a man deeply involved in shaping United¡¯s transfer dealings during the ¡¯90s.


    Next to him sat someone far less known to the casual fan but no less significant: Jim Solbakken, the Norwegian agent of the Norwegian striker Ole Gunnar Solskj?r!


    Martin Edwards leaned closer to Jim Solbakken, lowering his voice just enough to avoid catching the attention of those around them.


    "Is it him?" Edwards asked, eyes fixed on Solskj?r warming up on the sideline.


    Jim nodded with a small smile. "Yes, that¡¯s Solskj?r¡ªthe one Ferguson wants. Quiet, smart, deadly in front of goal. Perfect fit for United."


    Edwards said nothing. Of course, as his agent, Solbakken would praise his player. For him, however, Edwards wasn¡¯t convinced.


    What kind of player could you get from the second tier?


    He¡¯d rather spend millions on established stars like Newcastle United¡¯s Les Ferdinand, Aston Villa¡¯s Dion Dublin, or Chelsea¡¯s Mark Hughes.


    Manchester City? Hah!


    Ole Gunnar Solskj?r? Who was he?


    Still, he was curious¡ªwhy was Ferguson so adamant about signing him?


    PHWEEEE!


    As the referee blew the whistle for a goal kick, Larsson jogged off, and Solskj?r stepped onto the pitch, his eyes scanning the field with quiet intensity.


    Soon the match began.


    O¡¯Neill on the sideline frowned as he thought for a moment before yelling, "Go, Neil, Jackie! Leave the back to Robbie, you two move forward with Ronaldo and Ole!"


    Neil Lennon, hearing this, did not bother to respond as he saw the ball. He received it and passed it toward the left.


    Dropping back, Ronaldo controlled the ball, pausing briefly before darting forward.


    "Julian! Come back, don¡¯t go too far!" Simon Grayson, Leicester¡¯s central back, shouted, watching Ronaldo glide the ball dangerously close to their penalty area while Julian Watts was caught out wide, too focused on Ronaldo.


    The inexperienced Julian Watts instinctively followed Ronaldo when he got the ball, even though Ronaldo was closely marked by the right-back.


    Thanks to this, Ronaldo managed to pull two defenders toward him at once and quickly flicked the ball forward, allowing his teammates to exploit the space he created.


    Watts was stunned as the ball suddenly disappeared from Ronaldo¡¯s feet. As he turned, he was instantly shocked to see Solskj?r already rushing toward the ball.


    Ronaldo had passed it just as he was distracted by Grayson¡¯s shout.


    Watts could only complain silently toward Grayson in his heart at that moment.


    Solskj?r received the ball, but seeing Grayson already dropping into a defensive stance, cutting off both his left and right routes, he had no choice but to hesitate and slow down.


    For a brief second, it seemed the attack had stalled.


    But while all eyes were locked on Solskj?r, Cafu quietly drifted a few steps away from his marker¡ªthe Leicester left-back¡ªlurking just at the edge of the defender¡¯s blind spot. Then, with perfect timing, he suddenly bolted forward into space.


    Solskj?r spotted the run immediately and didn¡¯t hesitate. With a deft touch, he slipped a perfectly weighted pass through the narrow channel between Grayson and the backline.


    Cafu surged onto it, his pace carrying him past the scrambling left-back.


    As Cafu entered the box from the right flank, a wave of blue shirts closed in.


    Just when it looked like he was about to take the shot, he stopped abruptly, causing his marker to slide helplessly past him.


    With a quick feint and a calm breath, Cafu cut the ball back toward the center of the box.


    Neil Lennon was the first to respond, but two Leicester players were also closing in rapidly, anticipating a quick shot.


    Everyone in the stadium held their breath¡ªthis was the moment.


    Then, just as the ball rolled into Neil Lennon¡¯s path and the defenders braced for a strike, he did something unexpected.


    He spread his legs wide¡ªletting the ball roll cleanly between them. It was a dummy. A perfectly timed, perfectly disguised dummy.


    The Leicester defenders, caught flat-footed by the trick, lunged too late as the ball glided untouched through Lennon¡¯s legs.


    "Solskj?r¡¯s there! What a brilliant bit of teamwork¡ªand a clever pass by Cafu and trick by Neil Lennon to set it up!"


    But by then it was already too late. Now, as the ball slipped through Lennon¡¯s legs, the space was open¡ªand Solskj?r was already on the move.


    Solskj?r, who had passed to Cafu moments earlier, had deliberately hung back¡ªjust outside the penalty area¡ªrather than charging straight in. He had read the game, predicted the movement, and positioned himself perfectly for the moment.


    Solskj?r didn¡¯t rush. He didn¡¯t panic. Without even looking toward the goalkeeper¡ªhis eyes focused solely on the ball¡ªhe drilled a low, thunderous shot toward the far post.


    The Leicester keeper didn¡¯t even react, completely fooled by the teamwork between Neil Lennon and Solskj?r. All he could do was watch helplessly as the ball curled past him.


    It kissed the inside of the post and rippled the back of the net.


    GOAL!


    The stadium erupted as Manchester City finally broke through Leicester¡¯s defensive wall.


    It wasn¡¯t just a goal¡ªit was a masterclass in movement, awareness, and team chemistry. And at the heart of it all? Solskj?r¡¯s patience. Lennon¡¯s brilliance. Cafu¡¯s precision.


    A goal built on intelligence and chemistry¡ªnot just instinct.


    With City leading 1-0, O¡¯Neill made a tactical change, bringing on Theodoros Zagorakis and the energetic 18-year-old Keith Gillespie, replacing Robbie Savage and Jackie McNamara.


    The hope was that Gillespie¡¯s youthful vigor and Zagorakis¡¯s defensive prowess would help press and inject fresh energy into the game for City.


    Unexpectedly, Gillespie immediately made his mark at Maine Road.


    City continued to dominate possession, moving the ball with growing confidence. Roberto Carlos intercepted a poor clearance and quickly passed to Ronaldo. Ronaldo, in turn, squared the ball to Solskj?r at the center of the box.


    With deft skill, Solskj?r lofted the ball just outside the penalty area toward Gillespie, who was making a swift run toward the center.


    Without hesitation, Gillespie unleashed a thunderous strike from 25 yards out.


    The ball swerved wildly past the Leicester keeper and crashed into the net.


    The stadium erupted as the young winger announced himself in spectacular fashion¡ªa screamer that sent a clear message: Manchester City was not done yet.


    Manchester City 2 - 0 Leicester City


    City dominated the opening minutes after the restart, dictating the pace and forcing Leicester to scramble after the ball. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In the 88th minute, finally, as City relentlessly pushed forward, Leicester¡¯s defense showed a hint of vulnerability. A brief lapse in concentration, a sudden shift in tempo¡ªand space appeared like a golden opportunity.


    Cafu¡¯s sharp eyes caught it instantly. With pinpoint precision, he threaded a perfectly weighted through-ball slicing through Leicester¡¯s backline.


    Solskj?r controlled it with calm finesse, then with one swift touch, he sent the goalkeeper the wrong way.


    The net bulged.


    Two goals and one assist for Solskj?r ¡ª a performance destined to earn him man of the match honors.


    The roar from the stands was deafening as City stamped their authority on the game and on the night.


    Game over.


    O¡¯Neill clenched his fists before loosening them helplessly.


    The current director of football, Marina Granovskaia, had already briefed him about Manchester United¡¯s growing intent to sign Solskj?r in the upcoming winter transfer window.


    The question now loomed heavily over Martin O¡¯Neill¡¯s mind¡ªcould he really keep Solskj?r?


    For the first time in his managerial career, O¡¯Neill found himself with a different kind of headache. Usually, he was stressed because he didn¡¯t have enough strikers. But this time, his problem was the opposite¡ªevery striker at Manchester City was in top form.


    Larsson had been consistent. Ronaldo was electrifying. And Solskj?r¡ªice-cold in the box. Adding with Shevchenko starting to get used to the pace of the Premier League, and Trezeguet going all out in training, it¡¯s getting harder and harder.


    Together, they didn¡¯t just form a strike force¡ªthey were a nightmare for any defense.


    O¡¯Neill could only sigh as he silently prepared to lose one of his trump cards.

 Chapter 188: Ole’s Top Form

    Chapter 188: Ole¡¯s Top FormO¡¯Neill had just settled into his office after the morning session when there was a quiet knock at the door.


    It was Solskj?r.


    He stepped in, closing the door gently behind him. They didn¡¯t speak at first¡ªjust sat there, side by side in the small sitting area, the silence stretching between them.


    Finally, O¡¯Neill exhaled and looked over.


    "Ole," he said softly. "You want to go to Manchester United, don¡¯t you?"


    Solskj?r lowered his gaze. "It¡¯s not that simple, Boss," he said quietly. "It¡¯s not about United. It¡¯s about... here. I¡¯ve been coming off the bench for a year. I know what I can do¡ªwhether it¡¯s on the wing or up front. But it feels like you don¡¯t see me as a starter."


    O¡¯Neill didn¡¯t respond right away. He just stared into his cup, the steam curling up and fading.


    He got it.


    Solskj?r wasn¡¯t asking for praise. He was asking for belief¡ªfor trust. And the truth was, he had every right to.


    Twenty-three years old, in top form.


    But so were the others. Larsson was flying. Ronaldo, solid as ever.


    Originally, this hadn¡¯t been an issue for Solskj?r. With the team¡¯s 4-4-2 setup, he still had a shot at starting. But he¡¯d noticed something recently¡ªO¡¯Neill seemed to have high hopes for Shevchenko. And let¡¯s not forget Trezeguet.


    In a perfect world, you¡¯d play them all. But football doesn¡¯t work like that.


    There¡¯s only so much time. Only so many chances.


    And players¡ªplayers notice things. Who gets paired up in training. Who gets pulled aside for a word. Who¡¯s in the manager¡¯s plans¡ªand who¡¯s not.


    Solskj?r wasn¡¯t blind. He¡¯d seen Shevchenko growing¡ªfaster, stronger, more in tune with the team. He could feel the shift.


    It wasn¡¯t personal. But it was real, at least for him.


    Finally, O¡¯Neill stood, walked over, and embraced him.


    He whispered, "Ole, you¡¯re a top player. I¡¯ve never lied to you. When Richard told me you¡¯d be one of the best, I¡¯ll admit¡ªI doubted it. But now I understand why he pushed so hard to bring you into the squad this season."


    Solskj?r looked surprised¡ªbut O¡¯Neill continued, gently but firmly.


    "Go. Walk into Old Trafford with your head held high. Tell everyone your name. Build your legacy. I¡¯ll always support you. And if one day you want to come back¡ªyou¡¯ll always be welcome here. Don¡¯t worry about the fans. They¡¯ll understand."


    Listening to this, Solskj?r nodded slowly, taking in every word.


    The next day, before the morning session, O¡¯Neill never brought up the conversation he had the day before with Solskj?r.


    He stood before his squad, eyes scanning the determined faces of his players. The atmosphere was tense but focused.


    "Listen up, lads," he began, voice steady but firm. "We¡¯ve got two tough fixtures coming up before the year¡¯s out¡ªHuddersfield and Portsmouth. Both are hard-working teams."


    He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.


    "We can¡¯t afford to underestimate them. These matches won¡¯t be easy. But remember this: we¡¯ve got quality, skill, and the hunger to push ourselves further. If we stick to the plan, keep our heads, and work as one, we can come through these games stronger."


    He clapped his hands once, a signal of resolve. "Let¡¯s finish the year on a high. Focus, fight, and leave everything out on that pitch. Together, we can do it."


    The players nodded, the fire rekindled. The challenge was clear¡ªbut so was their determination.


    While O¡¯Neill was busy preparing for the match, the Manchester City CEO¡¯s office was buzzing with activity.


    United was trying to poach City¡¯s players¡ªand it wasn¡¯t just Solskj?r.


    After watching Solskj?r¡¯s game, Martin Edwards had set his sights on players like Cafu, Roberto Carlos, Ronaldo, and Neil Lennon. For the past few days, Marina Granovskaia had been exchanging faxes back and forth with Manchester United.


    Of course, she kept Richard, who was in the United States, informed every step of the way. When Richard heard which players United wanted to sign, he was stunned.


    "Are they crazy? Wanting to buy five of our players? Impossible!"


    On the phone, Richard firmly rejected the offer.


    The problem, as expected, was that United wanted the Brazilian trio, Neil Lennon, and Solskj?r¡ªnone of whom Richard was willing to let go.


    "But they raised the bid for Solskj?r to three million, and Solbakken is also pushing us to accept the deal," Marina said.


    "Don¡¯t worry. They can¡¯t do anything. All of them still have four years left on their contracts. They can¡¯t negotiate directly with the players, and they know doing otherwise would be foolish. Has any agent from other teams contacted you?"


    "Not yet," came the reply.


    Richard sighed in relief, then became serious, giving clear instructions¡ªespecially about protecting City¡¯s first-team players. He emphasized that City would under no circumstances sell them.


    "They better tell their agents that before they get contacted by other teams."


    "Understood."


    "Good. As for Solskj?r..." Richard paused for a moment before telling Marina, "Ask O¡¯Neill if it¡¯s possible to give playing time to the bench players. Just ask him¡ªno pressure. If it¡¯s not possible, then so be it. Tell Martin this is just an idea, not that he has to do it."


    If possible, he also wanted to offload some players to clear space for the targets he¡¯d already identified for the winter transfer window.


    "Alright, that¡¯s good. Thank you for your hard work."


    After ending the call, Richard was deep in thought. Manchester City also needed to prepare for potential backlash.


    After all, with both Manchester United and City sharing the same city, the rivalry ran deep¡ªeven if City was currently in the second tier, no one took it lightly.


    Both clubs understood that transfers like this would stir up the fans, but there was some comfort in the fact that City was still behind United in the standings. So, while protests and complaints were expected, everyone knew it would mostly blow over with time.


    And sure enough, before City¡¯s match against Huddersfield Town, City rejected United¡¯s ¡ê3 million bid, and the media quickly turned the transfer saga controversial.


    "Martin, how do you respond to the claims that City might be willing to sell some of their key players, including Solskj?r?"


    "Martin, with the tension between Manchester United and City, do you see the rivalry escalating off the pitch as well?"


    "Martin, do you expect this transfer saga to affect the players¡¯ morale or the upcoming matches?"


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s mouth twitched with barely concealed irritation as he listened. It was clear they weren¡¯t here to discuss the upcoming match against Huddersfield¡ªthey wanted to dig up every detail about Solskj?r¡¯s transfer saga.


    Frustration mounting at the irrelevant questions, O¡¯Neill abruptly rose from his seat and stormed out of the press conference room.


    The next fixtures against Huddersfield and Portsmouth arrived, and whether it was Solskj?r¡¯s luck or something else, both Ronaldo and Larsson suffered injuries.


    Ronaldo, in training, in his eagerness to retrieve the ball, rolled his ankle¡ªa sign of extreme fatigue causing his body and mind to be out of sync. Larsson suffered a similar injury.


    The injuries weren¡¯t severe, but both players needed rest, forcing O¡¯Neill¡ªreluctantly¡ªto rely on Solskj?r, Shevchenko, and Trezeguet as City¡¯s main attacking options. Although Solskj?r was set to leave, he held onto a little hope that the management would fail to reach an agreement with Manchester United.


    In the match against Huddersfield Town, City were already leading 2¨C0 thanks to a Robbie Savage header and a long-distance shot from Keith Gillespie, allowing them to play with comfort and control.


    In the second half, Solskj?r came on, and O¡¯Neill carefully laid out some tactical instructions. Solskj?r listened attentively; even though he was set to leave, he still regarded O¡¯Neill¡¯s words as invaluable advice he could carry with him.


    Huddersfield left two players up front to chase counterattacks early in the second half, but as the clock passed the 80th minute, they fully retreated, abandoning any hope of a comeback. Their focus shifted entirely to damage control¡ªpreventing further goals.


    Still, having learned from Keith Gillespie¡¯s earlier strike from distance, they adjusted their defensive line, pushing slightly higher to close down space and deny players like Gillespie and Lennon the room to unleash long-range efforts.


    Upon entering the pitch, Solskj?r replaced Trezeguet and worked closely with Shevchenko, coordinating in tight spaces with sharp movement and quick passing.


    As the match ticked into the second minute of stoppage time, Neil Lennon¡ªwho had already unleashed three long-range efforts in the last ten minutes¡ªlooked set to try his luck again. Huddersfield¡¯s defenders closed in quickly, anticipating another thunderous strike. But just as they lunged to block, Lennon paused.


    With ice in his veins and clarity in his vision, he chose differently.


    Instead of pulling the trigger, he floated a perfectly measured lobbed pass, threading it between defenders and dropping it near the left side of the penalty spot like a dart.


    The Huddersfield back line froze. Both centre-backs had committed to the shot, shifting their weight forward in anticipation. But the ball arced behind them¡ªpast their reach and expectations.


    Shevchenko answered that question. He had made a diagonal run from the left.


    Though his timing wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªhe only reacted once he saw the pass leave Lennon¡¯s foot¡ªthe delivery was so unexpected that it threw off Huddersfield¡¯s entire back line. They had been sure Lennon would shoot again, their defenders glued to their marks and unprepared for the sudden shift in play. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Goalkeeper Steve Francis lunged off his line the moment he saw Shevchenko latch onto the ball. Closing the angle fast, he spread himself wide, ready to smother the shot.


    But Shevchenko wasn¡¯t looking to be the hero.


    With a calmness that belied the moment, he took a single touch to steady himself, then swept the ball across the face of goal.


    Arriving right on cue was Ole Gunnar Solskj?r.


    He had ghosted into the box, unnoticed, unmarked¡ªexactly where he always seemed to be when it mattered most.


    With one composed touch, Solskj?r side-footed the ball into the back of the net.


    3¨C0.


    No celebration. Just a quiet nod to Shevchenko, then a glance toward Lennon, as if to say, "That one¡¯s for you."


    O¡¯Neill stood on the touchline, arms crossed, a flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Solskj?r might be on his way out¡ªbut in moments like these, he was irreplaceable.


    And the fans knew it, too. As the final whistle blew seconds later, the stadium erupted¡ªnot just for the win, but for the understated brilliance of a player who never needed the spotlight to leave his mark.


    "Ole... Ole... Oleeee!"


    The chant echoed through Maine Road like a wave, rising from every corner of the stadium.


    They had probably already heard the news¡ªor at least the rumors. And now, with Solskj?r¡¯s goal sealing the win, the crowd erupted, not just in celebration, but in defiance.


    The song wasn¡¯t just for the goal.


    It was a message.


    The fans were making their voices heard¡ªloud and clear. They weren¡¯t just cheering for a player. They were protesting the club¡¯s decision to sell their baby-faced assassin.


    Full-time: Manchester City 3 ¨C 0 Huddersfield Town

 Chapter 189: Marina Granovskaia vs Jim Solbakken

    Chapter 189: Marina Granovskaia vs Jim SolbakkenDecember 31st¡ªNew Year¡¯s Eve and the final day of 1995.


    It also marked the last fixture of Manchester City¡¯s calendar year, with an away match against Portsmouth set to close out the season.


    But even before a ball was kicked, the noise had already begun.


    Following O¡¯Neill¡¯s abrupt exit from the previous press conference, the media wasted no time stirring controversy.


    Speculation ran wild. Reporters filled column inches and airtime with half-truths and reckless guesses, fueling the fire around Solskj?r¡¯s potential departure and the unrest within the club.


    [...O¡¯Neill Opposes Board¡¯s Decision to Sell Solskj?r¡ªClash with Maddox Looms...]


    [...City in Crisis? O¡¯Neill at Odds with Club Hierarchy Over Solskj?r Sale...]


    [...Not My Decision!" ¡ª O¡¯Neill Distances Himself from Solskj?r Transfer Talks...]


    [...Fans Back O¡¯Neill as Solskj?r Saga Sparks Rift with City Board...]


    Neither Manchester City nor O¡¯Neill gave any response regarding the rumors, and in the pre-match press conference ahead of the Portsmouth game, O¡¯Neill refused to answer any questions related to the Solskj?r situation.


    PHWEEEE!


    The match kicked off at Fratton Park, the home ground of Portsmouth.


    In this match, it was Andriy Shevchenko who took center stage early on. With clinical precision, he netted both the first and second goals for Manchester City, silencing the home crowd and giving the visitors a commanding lead.


    Then came the third¡ªa beautifully worked team move finished off by David Trezeguet, who slotted it home just before halftime. City were in control, cruising 3¨C0 at Fratton Park.


    But the most emotional moment of the night wasn¡¯t a goal. It came in the second half.


    When the fourth official raised his board and the number "20" lit up in red, a wave of noise surged from the away end.


    "Oleee... Oleee... Oleee!"


    Solskj?r jogged onto the pitch, his expression focused, but his eyes betraying a flicker of emotion. He heard them. He always heard them.


    And this time, their chants weren¡¯t just admiration¡ªthey were pleas.


    "Don¡¯t leave!"


    "Stay with us, Ole!"


    "You¡¯re one of us!"


    Then came the bitterness from some corners¡ª


    "Traitor!"


    "Don¡¯t sell our soul!"


    It was a mix of love, heartbreak, and confusion¡ªevery kind of emotion echoing from the stands. The supporters were torn. Many adored him, idolized him. Others, stung by rumors of his departure, felt betrayed.


    Solskj?r didn¡¯t react. Not with gestures or words. But the way he moved, the way he played in those final minutes¡ªit said everything.


    O¡¯Neill watched from the touchline, arms crossed.


    In the second half, from the moment the whistle blew until the final whistle, Solskj?r played exceptionally well¡ªespecially in the closing minutes. He scored the fourth goal in the 85th minute and then added his fifth in the 90th!


    With this brace, Solskj?r officially surpassed Shevchenko to become City¡¯s third-highest goalscorer, even though most of his time on the pitch came as a substitute. He now has 9 goals!


    From November to December:


    Nine matches. A relentless schedule. Different tactical battles. Some teams tried to outplay them. Others sat deep, frustrated, wasted time, and waited for a lucky moment.


    City handled them all¡ªwith only one draw. They didn¡¯t just win¡ªthey dominated. They controlled matches, adapted to every scenario, and found different ways to break teams down


    Some games were dominant, free-flowing performances where City overwhelmed their opponents. Others were hard-fought victories¡ªmatches where they had to be patient, grind through resistance, and seize their chances when they came.


    No matter the challenge, the result was always the same:


    Three points. Another win. Another step closer to promotion.


    The message was clear¡ªno one could stop them.


    1?? Manchester City ¨C 58 pts | GD: +49


    2?? Sunderland ¨C 55 pts | GD: +33


    3?? West Brom ¨C 54 pts | GD: +31


    4?? Derby County ¨C 51 pts. | GD: +25


    5?? Ipswich Town ¨C 49 pts. | GD: +24


    49 goals in half a season.


    That¡¯s not just impressive¡ªit¡¯s dominant.


    Manchester City have played roughly 24 matches and scored 49 goals, averaging approximately 2.04 goals per game.


    What¡¯s even more remarkable is that Ronaldo alone has contributed 17 of those goals, proving himself to be a vital force in the team¡¯s attacking firepower. The second-highest scorer is Larsson with 10, followed by Ole Gunnar Solskj?r with 9 goals


    The moment the match ended, back at Maine Road in the CEO¡¯s office, a steady stream of faxes began arriving.


    Marina Granovskaia and Miss Heysen, who had recently stepped in for Richard, immediately started sorting through them.


    Whether it was Larsson, Ronaldo, or Solskj?r, their recent goal-scoring form had sparked interest from abroad¡ªbut Marina, following Richard¡¯s orders and O¡¯Neill¡¯s wishes, rejected all offers for Ronaldo and Larsson, focusing only on the one for Solskj?r, who wanted to leave.


    Hamburg from Germany and the Italian club Cagliari had submitted bids of ¡ê2.5 million and ¡ê2.8 million, respectively, for Solskj?r.


    Unsure of what to do, Marina picked up the phone to call Richard.


    "Hmmm," Richard said, falling silent for a moment. "What does Ole say about this?" he asked.


    "His agent already mentioned he still wants the deal with Manchester United," Marina replied.


    Richard paused at this.


    "...How about we sell him to them instead? After all, if we get promoted to the Premier League, we¡¯ll be facing United again anyway." Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "..."


    On the other end of the line, Richard still paused before finally responding.


    "Reject United¡¯s offer," Richard said firmly. "If they really want Solskj?r, they¡¯ll need to raise their bid. The gap between ¡ê2.8 million and ¡ê3 million is too small to matter. Tell them we¡¯ve accepted Cagliari¡¯s offer instead."


    The difference in figures was marginal¡ªbut this was about more than money. It was United, trying to poach a rising star from City. Let them feel the pressure. And even if the decision seemed biased, few would question it.


    Marina hesitated for a moment but then nodded, understanding the delicate game they were about to play.


    Sure enough, the moment news broke that City had accepted Cagliari¡¯s offer, Solbakken couldn¡¯t sit still, as Cagliari¡¯s representatives quickly reached out to him.


    After all, he had already struck a deal with Martin Edwards, who had personally witnessed Solskj?r¡¯s performance firsthand!


    Jim Solbakken, Solskj?r¡¯s agent, immediately set off for Maine Road after informing the club of his intention to visit the stadium.


    "What¡¯s your asking price?" he asked the elegant woman in front of him.


    This is how his negotiation tactics worked: make a strong first impression, then take control of the negotiation¡¯s direction. But this time, he ran into a steel wall¡ªthe Russian Iron Lady was ready to face him head-on.


    "Our asking price? I¡¯ll tell you directly: eight million pounds," Marina said decisively.


    "Are you joking?"


    "Joking? How many goals has Andy Cole scored this season for the six million pounds United spent on him? Three goals. And how many has Solskj?r scored for City this season? nine goals! Do you really think I¡¯m joking?"


    "But you can¡¯t compare the First Division with the Premier League!"


    "It doesn¡¯t matter. We¡¯ve already defeated two Premier League clubs¡ªQPR and, don¡¯t forget, Blackburn, the previous Premier League champions."


    Miss Granovskaia¡¯s reasoning shut down whatever Solbakken was about to say. Deep down, he knew he was also helpless in this matter.


    After all, Solskj?r was still under a long-term contract with City. If his client¡¯s contract had only a year or two left, perhaps he could have used some underhanded tactics¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t take that risk now, not with his client¡¯s long-term future at stake.


    "Wait for a moment, I need to make a call," Solbakken said as he rose from his seat.


    In the end, no deal was reached.


    For now.


    The match against Portsmouth marked the end of the year.


    For the players, it was a satisfying close to a strong run of form. For the club¡¯s employees¡ªthose who worked tirelessly behind the scenes¡ªit wasn¡¯t just the end of the year, but also the moment they could finally celebrate New Year¡¯s with their friends and families.


    In the staff lounge at Maine Road, festive music hummed softly in the background as the club¡¯s upper management, coaching staff, kit staff, groundskeepers, and youth coaches gathered for a small year-end celebration. They were also allowed to bring their families.


    Due to the Boxing Day fixture on December 26, City hadn¡¯t been able to properly celebrate Christmas. But with no matches scheduled for the next two days, they finally had their chance to relax and enjoy the festivities.


    This year, each Manchester City employee received a classic wicker hamper filled with Manchester City-branded scarves and gloves to help them face the cold, rainy Manchester winter, along with a year-end bonus equivalent to one week¡¯s salary in recognition of their dedication throughout the year.


    For a club still climbing back to its rightful place in English football, the gesture wasn¡¯t lavish¡ªbut it was heartfelt. And as the staff headed home to their families, hampers under their arms and scarves around their necks, they knew they were appreciated.


    On the other situation, Richard stayed in the United States while his family held their traditional New Year¡¯s party.


    His absence left everyone deeply disappointed. In a heartfelt attempt to bring him home, the family came up with a plan¡ªsending little Jessica Rowling to persuade him over the phone.


    "Brotherrr," Jessica said with a tiny pout he could practically hear through the line, "Why aren¡¯t you coming? Mom says we¡¯re supposed to be together for New Year¡¯s and Christmas!"


    Richard sighed helplessly. How could she understand that her brother was fighting to secure one billion dollars to go into his account?!


    After coaxing little Jessica a little bit, Richard chuckled and gently said, "Jessica, can you pass the phone to your mom? I want to ask her something... please?"


    Obediently, Jessica handed the phone over to her mother¡ªMiss Joanne Rowling¡ªas Richard prepared to ask about the progress of her latest manuscript.


    "A little bit of editing and it¡¯s done," Joanne replied.


    To be honest, her Harry Potter manuscript had been ready for some time, but she was still hesitant. She wanted to review it once more, to make sure everything was perfect before moving forward.


    "Whenever you¡¯re ready, I¡¯m sure it will be amazing."


    Joanne chuckled. "Thanks. And by the way, I hope you can make it home soon¡ªfor more than just calls. Your mother and father are very disappointed with your absence."


    Richard also regretted it deeply. But thanks to this year, even though he wasn¡¯t there, there was still Harry and his sister-in-law, Miss J.K. Rowling and her daughter, and the people in the Wilmington Square Garden apartment¡ªso at least this New Year wasn¡¯t lonely.


    After reassuring his mother and exchanging quick hellos with his father, brother, and sister-in-law, Richard hung up the phone and let out a deep sigh.


    The Netscape IPO was already underway but had been slightly delayed due to some technical issues caused by NCSA.


    Without wasting a moment, Richard grabbed his phone and called Adam Lewis.


    "Alright, let¡¯s schedule it for tomorrow," he said decisively.

 Chapter 190: Vs NCSA

    Chapter 190: Vs NCSAUrbana, Illinois.


    A warm spring afternoon bathed the University of Illinois campus in golden sunlight. The sprawling green lawns stretched out, dotted with red brick buildings that whispered stories from the university¡¯s long past.


    Tall, ancient trees lined the pathways, standing steady and proud, while students lounged on benches reading or cruised by on bicycles, heading to their next class.


    Richard sat in the backseat of a car, staring out the window at the lively campus scene.


    Just a year ago, he¡¯d bought Nestcape, and now the company had finally decided to go public!


    There was still one hurdle to clear though: NCSA. But if they could get past that, then at the latest by next month, his fortune was set to take off.


    "This is the NCSA," Adam Lewis said, suddenly getting the attention of the person beside him.


    Richard slowly turned his head and looked up at the building.


    The University of Illinois campus was huge¡ªalmost like a small city¡ªand it had tons of research facilities. The NCSA was one of the biggest.


    They then stepped out of the car and walked inside together.


    At the entrance, a security guard in uniform with a holstered gun stopped them.


    "How can I help you?" he asked.


    "We have an appointment with Mr. Robert Reid," Lewis said, naming the research institute¡¯s deputy director.


    The guard¡¯s serious look softened a bit.


    "Can I get your name?"


    "Adam Lewis. He¡¯ll know it¡¯s about the web browser," Lewis said confidently.


    "Wait right here," the guard said.


    He walked over to the information desk and made a quick call. After a short conversation, he came back.


    "Someone will be down to escort you shortly," he said.


    "Thanks," they replied.


    They nodded and sat down on a sofa in the lobby. A few minutes later, a lean man stepped out of the elevator, scanned the lobby, spotted them, and walked over.


    "Are you the Netscape people?"


    "Yes, that¡¯s us," Lewis answered.


    "I¡¯ll take you to the meeting room. Follow me."


    They got up and followed him into the elevator.


    The conference room was on the fourth floor. Big windows showed a stunning view of the perfectly kept campus outside. A long table stretched across the room, with chairs lined up on both sides. Each spot had a glass and a small bottle of water, ready for the meeting.


    "The deputy director will be here shortly," their guide said.


    Both Richard and Lewis nodded and took seats by the window.


    Soon, the door opened and a middle-aged man with a touch of gray in his black hair walked in, followed by another well-dressed man. After a quick look around, the older man came forward.


    "I¡¯m Robert Reid, deputy director of the NCSA."


    Lewis pulled out a business card and handed it to Reid.


    "I¡¯m Adam Lewis¡ªthe one who reached out to you," he said, nodding toward Richard.


    "This is Richard Maddox, CEO of Maddox Capital and a major Netscape shareholder."


    "I¡¯m Richard Maddox," Richard said.


    Robert Reid looked surprised, then extended his hand with a calm smile. "Oh, sorry about this¡ªI thought you¡¯d be older. Didn¡¯t mean to offend."


    Richard smiled softly and shook his hand in response.


    Then the legal showdown began: Richard & Adam Lewis vs Robert Reid & his lawyer, Tony Hall.


    There was an awkward silence before Attorney Hall cleared his throat and spoke first.


    "You wanted to talk about the lawsuit, right?"


    "Yeah. If this goes to trial, it¡¯ll be tough for both sides. Wouldn¡¯t it be better to settle now, on fair terms?" Lewis spoke for Richard, calm and steady, getting straight to the point.


    "There¡¯s a big mistake in what you just said," Attorney Hall replied.


    Lewis frowned and looked at him. "What do you mean?"


    Hall met his gaze confidently. "When the trial starts, Netscape will be the one in trouble¡ªnot us." Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Robert Reid, sitting next to him, nodded in agreement, as if thinking the same. In short, the urgency was on their side, not ours.


    "Is that really the case?"


    "..."


    "The intellectual property rights to Mosaic are entirely held by NCSA, so if this goes to trial, we would certainly be at a disadvantage."


    Attorney Hall, wearing a smug expression, twitched his eyebrows at the following remark.


    "However, even if you win, it will be a Pyrrhic victory."


    Lewis, sensing the skeptical look, calmly continued, "First of all, we will also counter-sue NCSA in the California Federal Court, so the trial won¡¯t end quickly."


    Reid, who had been leaning back arrogantly, immediately frowned and couldn¡¯t help but ask, "Did you just say you¡¯re going to counter-sue us?"


    Lewis nodded slightly. "Yes, that¡¯s right. What we need to make clear here is that Netscape has never infringed on any intellectual property rights."


    "Huh...?"


    Both Reid and Attorney Hall exhaled in disbelief when they heard this, while Lewis remained unfazed and continued calmly.


    "There may be some similarities between NCSA¡¯s Mosaic and Netscape, but that¡¯s simply because the key developer was Jim Clark."


    "Unbelievable!" Reid scowled, glaring at Landon, but Lewis stood his ground.


    "Well, I¡¯m simply stating the truth. It¡¯s a fact that Jim Clark came up with the original idea and played a pivotal role in developing Mosaic," Lewis shrugged, stating the fact plainly.


    Reid snapped back defiantly, "Mosaic wasn¡¯t created by an individual; it was a collaborative effort by NCSA researchers! That¡¯s why the intellectual property rights belong to NCSA!"


    "Well, we see it differently."


    At Lewis¡¯s calm demeanor, Reid¡¯s eyebrows shot up in surprise. At that moment, Attorney Hall silently cursed his clients for taking the bait.


    He clicked his tongue inwardly and stepped in. "The merits of the case can be settled in court. Please remain calm."


    However, despite Attorney Hall¡¯s attempt to calm his client, Lewis stirred things up once more.


    "NCSA may not acknowledge it, but everyone who¡¯s in the know understands where the idea for Mosaic really came from."


    "If you¡¯re going to keep making statements like that, I don¡¯t see any reason to continue this conversation," Attorney Hall said, cutting him off sharply.


    But Lewis remained completely composed, not even flinching, as he continued logically.


    "I recall you mentioned that if we win, it would be a Pyrrhic victory, right?"


    "..."


    "The idea for the project came from a young researcher who worked hard to develop it, only for NCSA to unjustly seize everything and then dismiss him."


    "Hah!" Reid let out a half-laugh, as if he couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing. Then he continued, "Well then, let¡¯s see who wins. That should settle it!"


    But Lewis didn¡¯t care. He pressed on, "Especially if it becomes known that NCSA¡ªa public research institute established for the public good¡ªengaged in such vile actions, it will be criticized from every side. Its reputation will plummet. I wonder if you¡¯re prepared to handle that."


    "...!"


    Attorney Hall¡¯s expression changed drastically, while Reid, his face turned crimson¡ªhe looked like he was about to explode.


    "Are you threatening my client right now?"


    "It¡¯s not a threat, it¡¯s a warning," Lewis replied, shrugging casually but his gaze never left Robert Reid.


    "...You are truly the most disrespectful bunch!" Reid finally exploded in anger, standing up abruptly before turning around.


    Well, to be honest, that judgmental look felt like a sharp poke to his pride¡ªa senior researcher at the director level, now forced to listen to a brat giving instructions. And here they were, dragged into this legal battle all because their former employee had copied the same product. He bristled but held his composure, barely hiding his irritation.


    But just as Reid was about to leave, Richard¡ªwho¡¯d been quiet the whole time¡ªfinally spoke up. "If you walk away now, you¡¯re going to regret it."


    Reid stopped and looked at Richard, sneering. "Oh yeah? Why¡¯s that?"


    "Because if these talks fall apart, everything Lewis just said will end up in the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times, and the Washington Post."


    Reid¡¯s eyes widened, clearly caught off guard.


    Those three papers weren¡¯t just big in the U.S.¡ªthey were global heavyweights. No wonder he looked so shaken.


    Trying to hide it, Reid scowled. "You really think I¡¯d fall for that bluff?"


    "Go ahead and try me."


    Reid glared hard, but Richard didn¡¯t flinch. He held his ground, locking eyes with Reid.


    The room went quiet. Richard sighed. "If we keep fighting like this, nobody wins. All that¡¯s left are wounds. Isn¡¯t it better to end this before it gets worse?"


    "Then accept our terms," Attorney Hall jumped in, trying to take control.


    But Richard shook his head right away. "NCSA knows 50% royalties is a crazy demand. We can¡¯t accept that."


    "So what do you suggest?"


    Richard leaned in. "I want to offer a realistic solution. Something we can actually agree on."


    Everyone perked up, curious. Richard laid out his plan:


    "Instead of paying royalties, we want to buy all the rights to Mosaic."

 Chapter 191 - 2nd Round Investments

    Chapter 191: 2nd Round InvestmentsAt IPO, early investors and insiders are typically subject to lock-up periods¡ªusually 90 to 180 days¡ªduring which they are prohibited from selling their shares on the public market.


    Only after this lock-up period ends can Richard legally sell his shares on the exchange. Alternatively, he could explore secondary sales to private investors or arrange block trades and direct placements. These routes help prevent flooding the open market and thereby protect the share price from a sharp drop.


    Originally, Richard intended to settle the issue with NCSA in court. But after discussing it with Lewis, they realized the legal path would be long¡ªand would likely take more than the 180 days he could afford to wait, especially since the presidential election in France had already concluded.


    Richard wasn¡¯t keen on waiting around for a protracted fight that might not even be necessary. He needed to unlock his shares quickly¡ªespecially since AOL, a potential buyer of his Netscape stake, had begun hesitating. They were playing a wait-and-see game, monitoring how the NCSA issue would unfold before committing to a deal.


    As they exited the building, Lewis turned to him and asked, "But can you also sell shares pre-IPO?"


    "You can," Richard replied. "In private secondary transactions. These deals are usually done through brokers who specialize in pre-IPO equity and are targeted at venture capital firms, private equity funds, or accredited investors."


    "But the buyer pool¡¯s limited, right?"


    "Exactly. And the company¡ªespecially the lead investors¡ªusually has the right of first refusal or some control over whether you can sell."


    "So, it¡¯s not a free-for-all," Lewis said thoughtfully.


    "Far from it," Richard nodded. "It¡¯s all tightly controlled to protect the company¡¯s valuation. Still, pre-IPO sales are on the table. Thanks for the idea. That gives me something to think about."


    They slid into the backseat of a waiting car.


    Lewis glanced at Richard. "But do you think NCSA will accept our proposal?"


    "They will," Richard said with quiet confidence. "Look¡ªMosaic was a big win for them, no doubt. But now it¡¯s also a massive headache."


    Lewis waited for him to elaborate.


    "The user base is growing, sure. But so are the complaints¡ªbugs, compatibility issues, crashes. The original programmer left, and the team that stayed behind is struggling to keep up. Basically, the current Mosaic is like a money-burning machine," Richard added. "That¡¯s the real problem."


    "Is that so?"


    "Yes, because unlike Netscape, which has already figured out how to make money, Mosaic is free. That¡¯s great for users, but not for the people maintaining it. With every new user, the costs go up¡ªservers, updates, support. And NCSA has a limited budget. They can¡¯t keep pouring resources into a product that doesn¡¯t generate revenue."


    "So, what¡¯s their endgame?" Lewis asked.


    "Their best move is to license the IP to someone else and collect royalties. That way, they free up internal resources and still benefit financially."


    "And you¡¯ve already beaten them to it."


    Richard smiled. "Timing is everything."


    Lewis leaned back, processing. "If that¡¯s the case, wouldn¡¯t it make more sense to hold on to Netscape? Like you said¡ªit¡¯s already generating revenue."


    Richard nodded in agreement, but then shook his head. "When I started Maddox Capital, the goal was simple: get in, grow it, get out. I only stay long-term if I really believe in it."


    Lewis raised an eyebrow. "So... you don¡¯t believe in Netscape?"


    Richard gave a noncommittal smile.


    "I want to use the cash to buy Adidas. You already know that," Richard said, then sighed.


    "Rover is still bleeding. Maddox Entertainment is the only division pulling its weight¡ªthanks to Oasis and Radiohead. WWE¡¯s profitable too, but just on an annual cycle. Add to that the loans to Barclays and Lloyds, and I still have to be careful with how I use cash. And Maddox Capital¡ª"


    Now that he had mentioned Maddox Capital, Richard paused, as if remembering something, then pulled out a folder.


    "Oh, Adam¡ªby the way, your job here was just to handle the Netscape case, right?"


    "Yes. Why?"


    "Then help me invest in this company."


    Lewis flipped open the folder.


    Richard¡¯s Second-Round Investments¡ªAnother Billion-Dollar Bet.


    First, AltaVista, the search engine poised to become the third biggest after Google and Yahoo.


    Second, LookSmart, an American company focused on search ads, content management, and online media.


    "Another internet company? Another browser?" Lewis asked.


    Richard grinned. "You could say that."


    After reading through the folder carefully, Lewis quietly closed it and couldn¡¯t help but ask, "Are you sure you want to allocate ten million for them? That¡¯s quite a lot of money to gamble."


    "I like where it¡¯s going," Richard replied with a shrug. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and let the conversation end there.


    Seeing this, Lewis didn¡¯t press further. Investment wasn¡¯t his specialty¡ªlaw was. He knew his job wasn¡¯t to challenge Richard¡¯s instincts, just to execute them as his legal counsel.


    For two days, Richard was fully occupied with Netscape. Then, after receiving news from Marc Andreessen that NCSA had already reached out to them first to begin negotiations, he couldn¡¯t help but pump his fist in triumph.


    This meant his threat was working, and Netscape¡¯s IPO would now proceed without any obstacles. This is exactly why early investors prefer to seek advice and support from experienced investors¡ªthey know how to handle situations like this.


    When word spread about the amicable agreement between Netscape and NCSA, AOL quickly approached Richard, expressing interest in buying his shares in Netscape. However, Richard declined the offer.


    AOL wanted to buy his shares at Netscape¡¯s current market value¡ªless than a tenth of what Richard believed they were truly worth. He had no intention of settling for such a lowball offer, so the deal quickly stalled. Unless AOL was ready to put $1 billion on the table, they shouldn¡¯t even bother reaching out.


    With Netscape now just waiting for the IPO news, Richard bade farewell to Adam Lewis, who had been assigned the mission for AltaVista and LookSmart from him ¡ª for the third time, once again, Italy!


    Richard boarded his flight to Parma, and upon landing at the airport, he wasted no time heading toward the taxi queue bound for Il Tardini Stadium. But just before stepping into the cab, something at a nearby newsstand caught his eye. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He paused, walked over, and picked up a copy of the News of the World. A bold headline on the cover had grabbed his attention¡ªenough to make him buy the magazine without a second thought.


    In short, the News of the World reported that Keith Gillespie was the subject of an approach from Alex Ferguson for a transfer to fill the gap on the right wing.


    This left Richard puzzled. Didn¡¯t they have David Beckham?


    No, most importantly¡ª


    With no other choice, he decided to call Marina, who was currently handling all of Manchester City¡¯s transfer business.


    CLICK~ The call connected.


    "Marina, it¡¯s me, Richard."


    "Yes, how are you doing?"


    "I¡¯m fine, thanks for asking. By the way, Marina, I just read something¡ª"


    Richard quickly explained what he¡¯d seen in the article.


    Marina confirmed the report was true.


    "What¡¯s wrong? Is something wrong?" she asked, clearly puzzled.


    Richard sighed deeply. The real issue wasn¡¯t that Manchester United had shifted their attention from Solskj?r to Gillespie. The problem was¡ªhow on earth had News of the World gotten wind of this?


    "When exactly did United approach Gillespie?"


    "...Two days ago... the day after I met with Ole¡¯s agent, I think."


    Hearing this, Richard slumped back in his chair, letting out a heavy breath.


    ¡¯The Sun, News of the World...Rupert Murdoch...¡¯


    In the future, a major scandal would erupt, shaking the world to its core. Rupert Murdoch, along with his company News of the World, would be implicated as the masterminds behind the infamous phone-hacking scandal.


    The newspaper had been illegally accessing the voicemails of celebrities, politicians, and even victims of tragic events. Later, Murdoch and his media empire would face accusations of right-wing bias and misleading coverage¡ªclaims suggesting that their outlets influenced political events across the UK, the US, and Australia.


    The scandal sparked widespread investigations, high-profile resignations, and ultimately led to the closure of News of the World.


    Now the question was: how the heck did News of the World find out about Alex Ferguson¡¯s interest in Gillespie?


    This puzzled Richard deeply.


    ¡¯Wait... maybe the ones being hacked weren¡¯t City... but United?¡¯


    As this thought hit him, Richard was taken aback. Indeed, if he remembered correctly, Murdoch had later shown interest in Manchester United but failed to buy the club. So there was a higher chance that it wasn¡¯t City, but United, who had been hacked instead.


    "But we also have an offer for Gillespie from Newcastle, and their offer is higher than United¡¯s. I think it¡¯s better to let him go to Newcastle instead of United."


    Marina¡¯s words snapped Richard out of his thoughts.


    In the current Premier League season, the defending champions, Blackburn Rovers, had already fallen out of the title race due to their inconsistency. Meanwhile, Newcastle had surprisingly built a twelve-point lead over Manchester United at one stage!


    But Richard knew how the story would end.


    Alex Ferguson¡¯s relatively young and inexperienced side would eventually overhaul Newcastle in the second half of the season to clinch the title.


    To sum it up: while Newcastle tried to disrupt United¡¯s bid for Gillespie, they failed to realize that Ferguson¡¯s real target wasn¡¯t Gillespie at all¡ªit was Solskj?r!


    After a moment of consideration, he decided to test the waters.


    "Let¡¯s accept whoever offers the highest bid for them."


    "Do you think United will still want Ole?"


    "They have no choice," Richard replied tersely, leaving the question hanging.


    It wasn¡¯t United who wanted Ole¡ªit was Alex Ferguson.


    From Richard¡¯s perspective, Ferguson was deliberately shifting his focus to Gillespie mainly to provoke Solskj?r. By showing interest in Gillespie, Ferguson hoped to unsettle Solskj?r, pushing him to rebel against City.


    "Understood, I will do as you said."


    "Thank you, Marina."


    When Richard hung up the phone, he had finally arrived at Il Tardini Stadium. And his first target in Italy this time was...


    Gianluigi Buffon!

 Chapter 192: Targeting the Out-of-Position Players

    Chapter 192: Targeting the Out-of-Position PlayersYoung players are still growing, and their physical attributes¡ªsuch as speed, strength, and endurance¡ªcan change dramatically during their teenage years.


    A child who seems suited for defense at age 12 might develop the speed and agility to become a winger by 16.


    This is because early training focuses on developing a broad set of technical and tactical skills rather than specializing too soon.


    As players get older, their unique abilities¡ªsuch as vision, passing accuracy, or tackling¡ªbegin to emerge, suggesting more suitable positions. Some players only discover their true potential or best position later in their youth careers, or even after turning professional. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For example, Didier "the Dragon" Drogba, the Ivorian striker who eventually pushed Andriy Shevchenko to the bench at Chelsea, originally played as a fullback. Similarly, Portuguese striker Nuno Gomes changed positions several times throughout his career¡ªfrom fullback to midfielder, and then from midfielder to striker. Even the world-famous Argentine striker Gabriel "Batigol" Batistuta, even changed from playing basketball to playing football because playing football could make more money than playing basketball.


    While City¡¯s fixtures in January continued, Richard realized he needed to be prepared for the Premier League¡ªespecially the upcoming summer transfer window.


    With a staggering +49 goal difference¡ªand this being only the first half of the season¡ªthere was no guarantee they could retain their top talent, especially with major clubs circling.


    The threat from European giants, particularly those in Italy, was very real. When a squad performs this well, it¡¯s only a matter of time before the big names come calling.


    Il Tardini Stadium, the current home of Parma.


    For today, Richard made his way to the Parma vs AC Milan fixture, opting to witness the action firsthand. And there was every reason Richard felt confident about his mission this time in Italy.


    Because he was targeting players who were currently playing out of position¡ªthose hidden talents waiting to be discovered.


    For example, Gianluigi Buffon.


    Who doesn¡¯t know the legendary goalkeeper of Italy¡¯s national team? However, in this very match, Buffon was unexpectedly playing in his very first official game as a goalkeeper!


    As everyone know, with the cr¨¨me de la cr¨¨me of Italian football rolling into town, there was no room for mistakes. Before Buffon, the benchmark for elite Italian goalkeeping had long been set by Dino Zoff.


    Zoff was blessed with an unshakable calmness on the pitch and, while he was a phenomenal shot stopper, his exquisite positional sense meant he was rarely forced to make spectacular saves.


    There¡¯s no denying that the parallels in career trajectory between Buffon and Zoff create an irresistible, lineage-based narrative. In fact, a closer look at the 1990s reveals a golden era for Italian goalkeeping¡ªlittered with top talents like Sebastiano Rossi, Francesco Toldo, Angelo Peruzzi, Gianluca Pagliuca, and even the aging Walter Zenga.


    What made the difference, however, is that while most of them quite literally started their careers as goalkeepers, Buffon¡ªlong before beginning his football journey with La Spezia¡ªdid not.


    When he joined Parma¡¯s youth system in 1991, the team¡¯s coach was immediately struck by his physical qualities. Later at the youth academy, he initially played in several outfield positions¡ªespecially as a midfielder. However, things took an unexpected turn when both of Parma¡¯s youth team goalkeepers suddenly suffered injuries.


    This unexpected crisis forced the coaching staff to think outside the box, searching for an unconventional solution to a problem no one had anticipated.


    Buffon, who initially played as a midfielder, became interested in the vacant goalkeeper position. After numerous spontaneous training sessions experimenting between the posts, he decided to give it a serious try.


    Buffon quickly adapted to the role, and within two weeks, he had been promoted to first-choice goalkeeper for Parma¡¯s youth team. Still, he still couldn¡¯t break into the senior squad, as the first team already had Luca Bucci and Giovanni Galli ahead of him, with even third-choice Alessandro Nista¡ªwho had decided this season would be his last at Parma¡ªstill in the mix.


    Most clubs would naturally rely on an experienced and established goalkeeper to guard the posts. In fact, Nevio Scala, Parma¡¯s current manager, had already recognized Buffon¡¯s potential¡ªbut remained hesitant to play him regularly.


    Buffon¡¯s appearance today was, in truth, another test¡ªa chance to evaluate him again and again. And thanks to that moment of uncertainty, Richard saw his opening.


    The game ended 0¨C0, with Buffon delivering a series of top-class saves against legends like Roberto Baggio and George Weah¡ªan astonishing debut that turned heads across the stadium.


    Seeing this trajectory align with what he already knew, Richard didn¡¯t waste a second. He immediately called Marina, who was in Manchester at the time, and urged her to push through a bid for Buffon¡ªoffering a cool one million on the spot!


    The bid received no response from Parma¡ªunsurprisingly met with silence, if not outright disdain.


    At just 17 years old, Buffon made a stunning debut as goalkeeper, performing exceptionally well against world-class players like Roberto Baggio and George Weah. It was clear¡ªthey weren¡¯t ready to let go of their rising star. However, the next offer came so suddenly that it forced Parma¡¯s management to hold an emergency meeting on short notice.


    ¡ê3 million¡ªcash, in pounds!


    Like it or not, Parma responded: ¡ê5 million!


    Faced with such a reply, Richard smiled. He wasn¡¯t afraid of the amount they were asking¡ªit was the silence from the other party that had unsettled him. But now that they¡¯d responded, the rest should be easier.


    What calcio fans didn¡¯t realize at the time was that they had just witnessed the debut of arguably the greatest goalkeeper of all time. Twenty-two years later, that same 17-year-old has amassed over 1,000 appearances and still plays an integral role for both Juventus and the Italian national team.


    After a tug-of-war in negotiations, Manchester City¡¯s relentless bid ultimately forced Parma to concede, and the deal was settled at ¡ê3,5 million for 17-year-old Gianluigi Buffon!


    Following that, Richard instructed Marina Granovskaia to finalize the deal officially as soon as possible, while he himself went to meet the future legendary goalkeeper.


    Not to negotiate, but to give him motivation and a guarantee¡ªas the owner of the club!


    Richard arrived at one of Parma¡¯s most renowned high-end restaurants¡ªAntica Osteria del Teatro. It was here that he met with the young Gianluigi Buffon and his family.


    The atmosphere was warm but charged with anticipation. Over plates of traditional Emilian cuisine¡ªprosciutto di Parma, tortelli d¡¯erbetta, and aged Parmigiano Reggiano¡ªRichard didn¡¯t talk numbers. He spoke of vision, legacy, and belief.


    "I know what you¡¯re afraid of," Richard began, gently setting down his glass of orange juice. "City¡¯s still in the second tier. English football? Many say it¡¯s no match for Serie A¡ªthe glamour, the stars, the history."


    Buffon listened silently, his parents exchanging cautious glances.


    "But that¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m here," Richard continued. "You could stay in Italy, be one of many... but do you really think you can break into the first team at Parma anytime soon¡ªwith Luca Bucci and Giovanni Galli ahead of you?"


    "..."


    Buffon and his family fell into silence.


    Indeed, at most clubs, the hierarchy for goalkeepers is rigid: there¡¯s a first choice, a backup, and then a third¡ªoften a veteran or a young prospect gaining experience. Breaking through that pecking order can take years, especially at a club like Parma, where the players ahead of him were seasoned and well-established.


    Truth be told, after being named Parma¡¯s starter for the 1996-1997 season, Buffon quickly established himself as one of the best young talents on the peninsula. The Gialloblu would go on to finish the season as runners-up to Juventus, while Buffon conceded a mere 17 goals in 27 appearances.


    That¡¯s why Richard thought it was better to recruit him early, before the season ended. After all, we¡¯re talking about Gianluigi Buffon here.


    "But City already has goalkeepers like Jens Lehmann, Richard Wright, and Nicky Weaver," Buffon said. "Even if I join City, I¡¯d be the fourth choice¡ªjust like at Parma. I¡¯d rather stay at Parma."


    Richard smiled at this. Buffon knew about the current City goalkeepers, which meant he had already done his research¡ªand wasn¡¯t completely rejecting the idea.


    He opened the contract and held it up before Buffon and his family, speaking calmly: "A weekly salary of ¡ê5,000. If we secure promotion, the contract will be updated to increase your salary to ¡ê7,500. Additionally, you¡¯ll receive bonuses based on the team¡¯s final league position. The contract lasts for five years."


    This was the highest salary in the current City squad!


    At that time, the highest earner at City was only making ¡ê3,000 per week¡ªyet Richard was offering Buffon more than that. To a goalkeeper!


    Buffon and his family were stunned. They hadn¡¯t expected such an attractive offer. It was significantly more than Gianluigi was earning at Parma.


    They felt tempted. After all, professional athletes earn most of their living while they¡¯re young, and careers are not only short but also filled with risks like injuries and fluctuating performance.


    Wanting to earn more is natural¡ªthere¡¯s nothing wrong with that. But for Buffon, what mattered more was getting playing time and playing outside Serie A.


    Well, even if his family agreed, Gianluigi Buffon might still hesitate.


    "I understand your concerns," Richard said, leaning forward slightly, sensing Buffon¡¯s hesitation. "At City, we already have Italians like Marco Materazzi and Gianluca Zambrotta in the squad¡ªyou won¡¯t be alone. And you know how English football works: we compete in three major tournaments¡ªthe League Cup, the FA Cup, and the Premier League. Unlike Serie A, which offers only the league and the Coppa Italia."


    He paused, letting the words sink in.


    "If you decide to join us, I¡¯ll personally speak with the manager to make sure you get minutes¡ªreal opportunities¡ªin at least one of those competitions. We¡¯re not signing you to sit on the bench, Gianluigi."


    Buffon¡¯s eyes lit up. "Really?" he asked, hope and curiosity flickering in his voice.


    "Yes," Richard nodded firmly. "And if I break that promise, we¡¯ll put it in writing¡ªsomething clear, something binding. If you don¡¯t get enough playing time, or if we fail to earn promotion to the Premier League, you¡¯ll have the right to walk away. No questions asked."


    He paused, then met Buffon¡¯s eyes with quiet conviction.


    "This is my sincerity to you. You¡¯re not signing away your future¡ªyou¡¯re taking control of it. I¡¯m not here to sell you a promise; I¡¯m here to build one with you. And one more thing¡ªwhen the time comes, when you¡¯ve made a name for yourself and Italy calls you back, I won¡¯t stand in your way. If the offer is right, I¡¯ll let you go. Once again, this is my sincerity¡ªwritten in black and white."


    With the owner of the club himself making promises¡ªbacked by a written contract¡ªhow could Buffon and his family not be moved?


    Had Giorgio Pedraneschi, the owner of Parma, ever spoken to them so directly?


    Even Nevio Scala, the manager, had likely shared only a few brief words with Buffon before his debut.


    "I... I need to think about it first," Buffon finally said. The weight of the decision was clearly written across his face.


    "Of course," Richard replied, rising from his seat with a calm smile.


    "January is still a long way off¡ªwe¡¯ll wait for you. If you¡¯ve made up your mind, please contact me as soon as possible, or reach out to our CEO," Richard said as he handed over two business cards¡ªhis and Marina¡¯s.


    The deal, for now, was delayed¡ªbut Richard wasn¡¯t disheartened. He had planted the seed.


    Buffon and his family had seen the sincerity, the opportunity, and the future laid out before them.


    With the meeting concluded, Richard didn¡¯t linger. He boarded his private jet and took off for Brescia, heading straight to Stadio Mario Rigamonti.


    One Chapter was paused¡ªbut another was about to begin.


    He also personally instructed Marina Granovskaia to fly directly to Brescia. His intention? Not to close a deal. Not to scout talent. But to learn.


    Richard believed that, for all Marina Granovskaia¡¯s brilliance in handling high-stakes transfers and multimillion-pound contracts, but the current version of her was too rigid¡ªtoo stoic, too bound by logic. She lacked something essential: the nuanced understanding of what truly drives a player, a family, a career.


    Negotiating with footballers wasn¡¯t the same as cutting a deal with corporate executives or agents. It was more layered, more delicate. Emotion often mattered more than logic. It was deeply human.


    Richard didn¡¯t want her to read report after report, fax after fax, or handle every negotiation at City the same way she had under Roman Abramovich, back when she was just his intern secretary.


    If Marina Granovskaia was to evolve from a master negotiator into a true architect of footballing vision, she needed to transcend the business.


    This is how the future Iron Lady of Chelsea, famed for her steely negotiations and sharp business acumen, came to be known as the most powerful woman in football.


    Marina Granovskaia¡¯s reputation wasn¡¯t built solely on deals and contracts; it was forged through an uncanny ability to balance strength with empathy, strategy with intuition.

 Chapter 193: Big news from Karren Brady (Adidas and Bordeaux)

    Chapter 193: Big news from Karren Brady (Adidas and Bordeaux)Bernard Tapie Has Finally Agreed to Sell Adidas!


    The following week in Brescia, Richard was unexpectedly unable to carry out his original plans¡ªthanks to Adidas.


    The long-rumored decision by Bernard Tapie, the flamboyant French tycoon and politician, to sell his stake in Adidas has finally been confirmed.


    Just moments ago, Tapie officially agreed to sell his controlling interest in Adidas A.G., closing one of the most closely watched Chapters in European business history.


    Speculation that Mr. Tapie would sell Adidas had been mounting since the tousle-haired, 49-year-old industrialist was elected to the National Assembly on the Socialist ticket and appointed Minister of Urban Affairs in late November last year.


    In the media, Tapie acknowledged that he would eventually have to choose between politics and business after committing to an active role in government over the coming years.


    His case is especially remarkable as he remains a rare example of a successful French politician without formal party affiliation.


    This decision does not necessarily signal a definitive end to his political or business ambitions. Rather, it appears driven by the urgent need to stabilize his heavily indebted primary business empire, Bernard Tapie Finance S.A., which currently carries $723 million in debt¡ªmuch of it accrued to support his political campaign.


    Following intense, back-to-back negotiations with Karren Brady¡ªrepresenting Maddox Capital¡ªBernard Tapie Finance S.A. has officially announced an agreement to sell its shares in Adidas to Maddox Capital, beating out Britain¡¯s Pentland Group P.L.C., which had also been vying for the stake.


    In the end, it was Maddox Capital¡¯s bold offer of 2.8 billion francs ($500 million) in an upfront payment that sealed the deal and outpaced Pentland.


    When Richard unfolded the morning newspaper and saw the photo of Bernard Tapie and Karren Brady shaking hands, a quiet smile of satisfaction spread across his face.


    The long hours of negotiation had finally paid off. Richard hadn¡¯t even needed to step in¡ªKarren Brady had handled everything flawlessly. Though the process took longer than he had anticipated, he sighed. It was a reminder of the luxury that comes with having truly competent people by your side.


    With this deal, Maddox Capital has finally managed to acquire 79.95% of Adidas, the third-largest sporting goods company after Nike and Reebok. As a result of the agreement, Maddox Capital will now enter the sportswear manufacturing industry.


    Adidas¡¯ current shareholders:


    Maddox Capital (79.95%)


    Britain¡¯s Pentland Group P.L.C. (20.05%)


    For the financing, Richard appointed Taylor Smith from Barclays to oversee the transaction, while on the other side of the table, Bernard Tapie Finance S.A. partnered with Cr¨¦dit Agricole and Cr¨¦dit Lyonnais to manage its end of the deal.


    Today, a representative from Britain¡¯s Pentland Group arrived to meet with him, accompanied by Karren Brady herself.


    Richard himself was accompanied by Marina Granovskaia, who had arrived in Brescia at his request.


    Pentland¡¯s chairman, Stephen Rubin¡ªwho had sold his group¡¯s 32 percent stake in Reebok International for $777 million the previous year¡ªnoted that Adidas remained one of the world¡¯s most recognized trademarks.


    He shook Richard¡¯s hand firmly. "Despite disappointing recent results, we¡¯re confident there are strong prospects for improving its performance," he said, locking eyes with Richard.


    Richard could sense the disappointment in his voice. To be honest, Pentland had been planning to acquire Adidas for quite some time, especially as the brand began to experience a decline in profits. However, no one expected Maddox Capital to come in with a last-minute bid that changed everything.


    Well, they missed their chance because they didn¡¯t have the guts to make a move on Adidas like Richard did.


    "We¡¯re on the same page as Chairman Rubin. I know we¡¯ll work together moving forward to make Adidas the number one brand in the world."


    Soon, the meeting began.


    As Richard read the financial report, he muttered to himself, "Hmm... the turnover was $2.3 billion."


    Adidas had also seen its profits fall sharply¡ªfrom $135.9 million to $66.4 million last year¡ªever since Tapie entered politics, which had left the company¡¯s operations in complete disarray.


    Not as bad as the Rover Group, but Adidas had its own problems. The privately held company had lost significant market share as aggressive new competitors entered the market. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In short, Adidas¡¯s profits had shriveled largely due to two fierce competitors: Nike and Reebok International Ltd. The situation was especially difficult in the United States, where Reebok and newcomers like L.A. Gear Inc. had gained ground at Adidas¡¯s expense.


    Now, as the largest shareholder in Adidas, Richard had two options: use his future knowledge to restore Adidas¡¯s greatness, or hand full control over to Pentland, who had tried and failed to acquire Adidas because of Richard.


    Seeing Richard¡¯s silence, Pentland¡¯s finance director, Frank Farrant, spoke up: "We have expertise in distribution and Far East sourcing, which will allow us to increase Adidas¡¯s profitability." He paused, then continued, "This important decision¡ªthough not easy¡ªwas made to ensure that efforts to improve Adidas¡¯s competitiveness can continue."


    "Do you have a clear plan to grow Adidas?" Richard finally asked.


    "Yes," came the confident reply.


    In summary, Pentland¡¯s mission for Adidas is to revitalize the brand, expand sales across Eastern Europe, and potentially launch shares on the Frankfurt Stock Exchange. Beyond athletic footwear, Adidas is also a leading name in sporting equipment, including apparel and balls.


    They highlighted that the finalists of the World Cup¡ªWest Germany and Argentina¡ªwere fully outfitted in Adidas gear. Moreover, Adidas¡¯s subsidiary, ISL, manages marketing for major global events such as the Olympic Games, the World Cup, and many others.


    "This business holds tremendous potential for profitability now that the succession issues have been resolved," Director Farrant remarked. "Despite recent challenges, Adidas represents an exciting financial and industrial opportunity."


    "Is that so?" Richard said softly before closing the financial report folder.


    After a moment of reflection, Richard finally decided it was better to let Adidas grow along the trajectory it was already on¡ªaligned with the future he envisioned.


    From his perspective, if he intervened too much, Adidas might continue to thrive in traditional sports like football and others. But the company¡¯s future wasn¡¯t just about performance sports anymore. Adidas was evolving, branching into lifestyle and culture¡ªthink Yeezy or the collaborations with artists like Kanye West.


    Richard understood that Adidas¡¯s future success would increasingly depend on the fusion of sports, fashion, creativity, and innovation. Trying to control it too tightly could stifle that organic growth.


    He might not be able to intervene directly, but he could accelerate Adidas¡¯s profitability by initiating collaborations with bands like Oasis or Radiohead. For that, he needed to contact his brother, Harry, later.


    So, he resolved to support Adidas¡¯s existing path, allowing the brand to develop naturally while keeping an eye on new opportunities to push boundaries and redefine the sportswear industry.


    "Maddox Capital will only take control of the shares but will not intervene in the operations of Adidas," Richard said decisively. Then he added firmly, "The Pentland Group will continue managing their part as they see fit. Our role is strategic ownership, not day-to-day management."


    After all, the Pentland Group themselves are specialists in the sportswear industry, with an established portfolio that includes well-known brands like Speedo swimwear and Pony International shoes.


    This background gives them a clear advantage in understanding the unique challenges and opportunities of the sportswear market, making them a natural fit to steer Adidas toward renewed success.


    Let the experts take care of Adidas and allow the brand to grow naturally, following the path it was meant to take.


    Hearing this, Chairman Rubin and Director Farrant were visibly pleased.


    They had traveled all the way to Italy primarily to persuade Richard to let them handle the day-to-day operations.


    Since Richard was the largest shareholder, they hadn¡¯t been entirely confident at first. But upon hearing his decision, they breathed a sigh of relief.


    After wrapping up the Adidas deal, all that was left was to wait for finalization.


    Richard had already handed everything over to Taylor Smith from Barclays to manage the financial side, so he wasn¡¯t worried.


    "I know, but the alignment process and due diligence alone will take anywhere from four to nine months. Especially since Adidas is a large international company with national and possibly EU-level interests, some regulatory oversight and board approvals will be required," Karren Brady said reassuringly, as Richard asked her about the deal¡¯s timeline.


    Hearing this, Richard was finally reassured. He no longer felt anxious about how to finance the Adidas acquisition later.


    With the timeline clearly laid out and the Netscape IPO set to happen first, he knew everything was falling into place¡ªjust as he had planned.


    Done with that, Richard then scheduled a meeting.


    For the first time, he was preparing for a personal high-level discussion. Although it was meant to be informal, he was taking it very seriously.


    Present at the meeting were Karren Brady and Marina Granovskaia¡ªtwo formidable negotiators Richard was hoping to cultivate as his left and right hands in the City one day.


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched slightly as he looked at the two women seated in front of him. It was as if sparks were flying between them.


    One had a singular purpose and a burning desire to become successful, while the other had been trained to be successful.


    Richard then decided to ask Karren Brady first. "What about Bordeaux? How¡¯s the situation there?"


    Originally, Richard¡¯s plan was to buy FC Girondins de Bordeaux himself, but there were risks involved.


    Since Bordeaux is based in Europe and operates within the same footballing landscape as Manchester City, there was a potential for backlash.


    In the end¡ªthanks to an idea suggested by Miss Brady¡ªhe decided that as long as she could persuade the current owner of Bordeaux, M6, he would support her. He agreed to give her the freedom to run the club, as long as he could retain overall control behind the scenes¡ªan arrangement she accepted.


    When she told Richard how she managed to persuade CEO Joseph DaGrosa, the current owner of Groupe M6, Richard took a deep breath, while Marina Granovskaia¡¯s expression changed¡ªas if she had just found a reason to show respect to this mad woman.


    Let¡¯s pause here for a moment...


    Just meeting someone influential and learning how to run a football club is not enough to get her to where she is now¡ªagreeing to become Bordeaux¡¯s CEO with M6.


    So, what she did to convince Joseph DaGrosa was first to show how FC Girondins de Bordeaux could generate money, especially since the club had already been declared bankrupt and faced relegation if they couldn¡¯t bring their finances back to a sustainable level.


    In these four months, Karren helped DaGrosa and Groupe M6 sell their shares to the public via an Initial Public Offering (IPO), allowing them to cash out their investment profitably.


    In other words, she managed the process that made it possible for the owners to sell their stake in the club on the stock market, turning their ownership into liquid assets (cash or marketable shares), usually at a significant financial gain.


    So, how did she manage to persuade DaGrosa to sell his shares?


    First, she used the millions Richard provided to demonstrate just how well-resourced she was.


    Second, to close the deal, she guaranteed a successful outcome for FC Girondins de Bordeaux over the next five years¡ªa guarantee she was not authorized to provide. She took all the risk upon herself and promised to repay their total investment if the club failed to win a single major trophy within five years.


    Truly a crazy woman.


    And what¡¯s even crazier is¡ªdo you know who actually bought the shares from Groupe M6 when they sold their stake to the public?


    It was City Football Group, or rather, the special vehicle that Richard originally planned to use to quietly acquire clubs in Europe.


    With this arrangement, even though Richard did not officially own Bordeaux, he could indirectly control it as he pleased. And in accordance with the agreement, Richard did not hesitate to fulfill the promises he had made.


    Another promise involved millions for Bordeaux to acquire Claude Mak¨¦l¨¦l¨¦ and Patrick Vieira, pairing them with Zinedine Zidane.

 Chapter 194: It’s the First Fixture of the Year

    Chapter 194: It¡¯s the First Fixture of the YearJanuary has already rolled on, and some news has started making headlines.


    The first belongs to the Three Lions, coming off the infamous abandoned friendly against the Republic of Ireland in Dublin.


    On January 10, 1996, Terry Venables announced that he would step down as England manager following Euro ¡¯96. His decision came as he sought to focus on clearing his name in a high-profile legal battle with Alan Sugar over his controversial dismissal from Tottenham Hotspur in June 1993.


    Following this announcement, Bryan Robson¡ªthen Middlesbrough manager and England assistant manager¡ªwas widely reported to be the leading candidate to succeed Venables as England manager after the tournament.


    In the Premier League, basically everyone agrees on one point: the 1995/1996 season belongs to Manchester United or Newcastle United alone.


    Newcastle led Manchester United by 12 points in the first half of the season. But unexpectedly, United fought back and kept applying pressure on Newcastle, just as Richard had predicted.


    Just as the two clubs were fiercely competing with each other, troubling news emerged from Newcastle.


    The Department of Employment denied work permits for Marc Hottiger and Ilie Dumitrescu¡ªtwo players who had been lined up to strengthen the squad for the second half of the season, especially for the clash against Manchester United.


    The setback left Newcastle scrambling for alternatives.


    In the end, they shifted their focus to Manchester City¡¯s Keith Gillespie and Colombian striker Faustino Asprilla from Parma.


    After wrapping up the report from Karren Brady about her mission in France, Richard turned his attention to Marina Granovskaia.


    Newcastle United had firmly set their sights on Keith Gillespie and outbid Manchester United with an offer of ¡ê1.25 million. As a result, Richard decided to accept Newcastle¡¯s bid and reject Manchester United¡¯s offer.


    "What about the others? Any further instructions?" Marina asked, her tone crisp and focused.


    Richard paused for a moment before giving a measured response. "The original plan still stands. As long as the offers don¡¯t involve key players and remain reasonable, you can proceed."


    Marina accepted the directive and immediately coordinated with Miss Heysen back in Manchester.


    While Richard was busy in Italy, City¡¯s fixtures continued as scheduled. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Manchester City and Brentford have little historical animosity between them. However, interest surrounding the two clubs suddenly spiked following their opening fixture of the second half of the season.


    Whispers of a personal conflict between Manchester City¡¯s sole owner, Richard Maddox, and Brentford FC¡¯s director, Jeff Coff, began to circulate.


    Though unconfirmed, rumors of a heated dispute between the two powerful figures spread quickly¡ªcatching the media¡¯s attention and especially stirring up the Cityzens, who began to view the fixture through a far more personal lens.


    ???? "When we get the ball, we¡¯re gonna score, we¡¯re gonna win, we¡¯re gonna roar!" ????


    ???? "City, City, City¡¯s on fire, we¡¯re gonna burn the place down!" ????


    The same chant echoed through Maine Road Stadium, growing louder with each passing minute as the Cityzens made their voices heard.


    PHWEEEE!


    Once the match began, O¡¯Neill realized he had underestimated the situation.


    From nearly the first minute, Manchester City had seized control of the game.


    Sticking to their traditional long-ball approach, Brentford often launched the ball from deep within their own half, hoping to catch City off guard. But when their forwards failed to latch onto those passes, it simply handed City possession and an open invitation to strike back.


    Just like other teams before them, Brentford found themselves pinned. Their defense sat deep, unnervingly cautious, while four of their midfielders dropped back, forming a rigid and cramped line of resistance.


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s frown deepened as he glanced toward Brentford¡¯s bench, eyeing head coach Phil Holder¡ªa former assistant recently promoted to replace the dismissed Steve Perryman.


    Conflicted thoughts ran through O¡¯Neill¡¯s mind: was this ultra-defensive setup meant to lure City into an aggressive push forward?


    After watching a little longer, he returned to the bench and muttered, "What the hell! What is Brentford doing?! Ten players sitting deep in their own half?"


    It was almost a cry for help ¡ª even their striker rarely ventured into City¡¯s territory.


    Playing so conservatively... did they only want a draw?


    Robertson then leaned in and whispered, "I just overheard some fans behind us. It seems there are internal conflicts within their upper management. Their chairman was unhappy with how one of their directors handled the summer transfer."


    O¡¯Neill, aware that Brentford had changed managers mid-season but unsure about the details, turned to Robertson and said quietly, "Could Brentford be doing this on purpose? Trying to lure us into committing more players forward in attack?"


    Robertson hesitated, reluctant to jump to conclusions, but shared his thoughts anyway.


    "I think their current interim manager is playing it very cautiously. It¡¯s better for him to secure a point than risk losing the match."


    "That¡¯s why they¡¯re playing like this?"


    Robertson nodded, then said, "We have no other choice. We need to make a substitution now, and the best option is..." He paused.


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s mouth twitched as he heard Robertson, knowing exactly who he meant.


    Ronaldo.


    O¡¯Neill glanced at the bench, debating whether to make an early substitution to inject some creativity and pace. Yet, he remained uncertain.


    The problem was, after the New Year, this rebellious striker had once again spent the night at the club, leaving O¡¯Neill no choice but to freeze his status and fill the gap with Shevchenko.


    "No," O¡¯Neill said firmly, standing by his decision. "We¡¯re bringing on David."


    As a manager, it¡¯s his prerogative to decide who plays and who doesn¡¯t. If he softened his stance and made exceptions because of a loss or a draw, wouldn¡¯t that only undermine his authority and damage team discipline?


    Consistency and toughness were key¡ªespecially in moments like this.


    The commentator quickly caught on, "And here comes a substitution¡ªDavid Trezeguet is coming on to replace Roberto Carlos. Interesting move from Manchester City. That means Manchester City will now switch to a back three. City are clearly chasing the win!


    Defenders: Cafu, Rio Ferdinand, William Gallas


    Midfielders: Mark van Bommel (Holding), Jackie McNamara, Neil Lennon, Theodoros Zagorakis


    Forwards: Henrik Larsson, Andriy Shevchenko, David Trezeguet


    "Tell Andriy to stay inside the penalty box¡ªno need to drop deep. You and Henrik focus on dragging their center-backs out of position," O¡¯Neill instructed firmly. "Keep them occupied. Open up the channels. If they lose shape for even a second, we punish them."


    David Trezeguet nodded, adrenaline surging. The message was clear: disrupt their defense, and the goals would come.


    55th Minute, the moment the referee blew the whistle after the goal kick, City immediately resumed control of the match.


    From the very first possession, O¡¯Neill¡¯s plan was evident¡ªquick, incisive passing, relentless pressing, and stretching the play wide. Brentford had set up in a deep defensive block, hoping to frustrate City, but O¡¯Neill¡¯s men gave them no time to breathe.


    In general, attacking is more physically demanding due to its intensity and pace, while defending can be more mentally exhausting because of the constant vigilance and reactive nature it requires.


    Defenders must remain alert at all times¡ªanticipating passes, blocking runs, and holding the line. They are constantly reacting to attackers¡¯ movements, requiring non-stop tracking and covering. One lapse in concentration now, and the match could fall firmly into City¡¯s hands.


    Every time Brentford tried to play out from the back, City¡¯s midfield swarmed them like predators. Lennon and McNamara pressed high, forcing errors and pushing up aggressively, trapping Brentford and preventing them from escaping their uncomfortable zone.


    The visitors were already on the ropes.


    With a single glance, Shevchenko spotted Lennon making a blistering run behind Brentford¡¯s right-back. Without hesitation, he threaded a perfectly timed through-ball into the penalty area.


    Lennon surged past his marker, controlled the pass with a brilliant first touch, and found himself one-on-one with the keeper.


    The stadium held its breath.


    He struck it¡ªlow and hard toward the bottom corner!


    But Brentford¡¯s goalkeeper, diving at full stretch, managed to get the faintest fingertip to the ball, pushing it just wide for a corner.


    A collective groan echoed around the stadium.


    On the sideline, O¡¯Neill clapped his hands. "That¡¯s it! Keep the pressure on!"


    Brentford had survived¡ªfor now¡ªbut the signs were clear: they were starting to unravel.


    After Lennon¡¯s close call, Manchester City continued to press with relentless intensity.


    59th minute: Lennon nearly found the net again after a sharp one-two with Larsson, but his shot was blocked at the last second by a sliding defender.


    64th minute: McNamara spotted Larsson making a late run into the box and floated in a perfect cross, but the Swede¡¯s volley sailed just over the bar.


    66th minute: Cafu intercepted a poor clearance and whipped in a dangerous ball into the area, but the Brentford keeper punched it clear under pressure.


    "Damn it, again and again!" O¡¯Neill cursed from the sidelines, nearly tearing at his hair in frustration. He turned sharply. "Gian, Ole¡ªstart warming up. You¡¯re coming on for Theo and Mark."


    Playing both Van Bommel and Theodoros Zagorakis made sense if City were facing a team that liked to attack. But in a situation like this, it was better to bring on players who could actually make a difference.


    It was time for a change¡ªtime to inject some creativity and urgency.


    Originally, O¡¯Neill had assumed Brentford would rely on counter-attacks and go all-out for the win. But more than 20 minutes into the second half, they were still sitting deep, clearly and deliberately playing for a draw.


    Left with no other choice, O¡¯Neill brought on Zambrotta¡ªand, reluctantly, decided to play Ole, even though the striker was almost certainly on his way out of City.


    70th Minute.


    Brentford had barely touched the ball. And when they did, their passes were rushed, sloppy, and short-lived. Every clearance just came straight back at them¡ªlike they were caught in a loop.


    After another relentless wave of pressure, City finally won a corner.


    "Hey! Up! Everyone up¡ªGO!" O¡¯Neill suddenly barked from the sideline, practically losing it as he waved both arms wildly. He was calling for an all-out assault.


    His shout caught the attention of the players closest to the touchline. They glanced back to see him raising four fingers¡ªclear and deliberate.


    A signal.


    City¡¯s players immediately understood. Neil Lennon, who had been set to take the corner, dropped the ball and gestured for Cafu to take it instead.


    Cafu stepped forward. He placed the ball down with quiet composure, took a deep breath, and surveyed the box. The area in front of the Brentford goal was packed¡ªbodies jostling for space, shirts being tugged, eyes darting.


    Cafu raised his hand.


    PHWEEEE!


    As the whistle blew, Cafu delivered a wicked outswinging corner, curling hard toward the center, just in front of the goal.


    At first glance, it looked like a standard delivery. But in an instant, the deception began.


    Lennon and McNamara suddenly burst forward, dragging their markers with them.


    Brentford¡¯s defenders reacted instinctively, stepping up to follow¡ªleaving a dangerous gap behind.


    At the same time, strikers like Larsson, Solskjaer, and Trezeguet peeled off in the opposite direction¡ªtoward the far post, as if retreating.


    For a split second, Brentford¡¯s defensive line was caught in confusion, unsure of who to follow.


    That hesitation was all City needed. It was all part of the plan¡ªjust as they had rehearsed in training.


    This was Set Piece Routine #4, triggered by O¡¯Neill¡¯s frantic hand signal from the touchline.


    While defenders scrambled to react, Rio Ferdinand remained exactly where he was¡ªright in the center of the box. The midfielders¡¯ forward runs and the strikers¡¯ drift to the back had cleared the space around him. And Ferdinand, the tallest man on the pitch, was Cafu¡¯s target.


    Cafu¡¯s cross soared high¡ªperfectly aimed at Ferdinand.


    Brentford¡¯s defenders finally realized the danger and rushed to close him down. But their moment of hesitation had already given Ferdinand a step¡¯s advantage.


    He planted one hand on a Brentford player¡¯s shoulder¡ªusing it as a springboard as he vaulted himself above the rest!


    Ferdinand rose high, towering above everyone. Brentford¡¯s defenders desperately tried to disrupt him, but Ferdinand wasn¡¯t aiming to score directly.


    Instead, he flicked the ball backward with a glancing header¡ªcatching the entire Brentford defense off guard.


    At the far post, three City players had converged¡ªSolskjaer, Larsson, and Trezeguet¡ªbut it was David Trezeguet who found himself perfectly positioned.


    Some would call it luck. But Richard, knew better. He¡¯d recruited Trezeguet for one reason: his natural striker¡¯s instinct¡ªan almost supernatural ability to be in the right place at the right time.


    It was almost the same as Solskj?r, but while Ole¡¯s strength lay in his excellent movement¡ªmaking late runs into the box, great anticipation, and clinical finishing that made him a constant threat¡ªTrezeguet¡¯s danger came from his precise finishing, aerial ability, and classic poacher instincts. He was a true target man, highly focused on positioning and timing in the box, with a particular skill for finishing from crosses.


    Unmarked and ready, Trezeguet powered a downward header into the back of the net.


    GOAL!


    The stadium erupted.


    The moment the ball hit the back of the net, Trezeguet exploded into celebration. He sprinted toward the corner flag with pure joy, pumping his fists in the air. His teammates swarmed him, their cheers echoing through the stadium.

 Chapter 195: Paul Lake Says Goodbye to Football

    Chapter 195: Paul Lake Says Goodbye to Football???? "When we get the ball, we¡¯re gonna score, we¡¯re gonna win, we¡¯re gonna roar!" ????


    ???? "City, City, City¡¯s on fire, we¡¯re gonna burn the place down!" ????


    After the celebration, Trezeguet wheeled away, pumping his fists triumphantly¡ªhis first league goal for Manchester City.


    The roar of the home crowd surged through the stadium, fueling the players¡¯ adrenaline.


    Brentford¡¯s defenders exchanged frustrated glances. They had been completely fooled by the set-piece routine.


    For the next 20 minutes, as the clock ticked relentlessly toward full time, City launched wave after wave of attacks. Their intensity was relentless, leaving Brentford scrambling to keep up.


    Desperate to respond, Brentford pushed their midfield forward, trying to reclaim some momentum. But every push forward only played into O¡¯Neill¡¯s hands, allowing City to exploit gaps and launch counterattacks with devastating effect.


    At the 72nd minute, City sensed their opportunity and struck again.


    Zambrotta, reading the game perfectly, won back possession in midfield and quickly slipped the ball to Larsson.


    Larsson, undisputedly second only to Ronaldo in O¡¯Neill¡¯s tactical plans, slipped a precise pass to Shevchenko on the right wing.


    Shevchenko exploded into action, driving forward at full speed.


    A Brentford defender lunged to close him down, but he was too slow.


    With a razor-sharp turn, Shevchenko cut inside, leaving the defender stumbling and off-balance. Another defender rushed in¡ªbut Shevchenko¡¯s strength and balance saw him glide past effortlessly.


    Now just outside the penalty area, he took a deft touch to set himself, eyes locked on the far post. He curled a stunning left-footed shot that arced gracefully through the air.


    Shevchenko is very reliable for the current City team, especially when Ronaldo is not playing. His ability to use both feet effectively is a key aspect of his game, allowing him to play in different positions and execute a variety of shots. In fact, Shevchenko¡¯s versatility to play on either wing as well as a center-forward further highlights his two-footedness.


    The Brentford goalkeeper dived full stretch¡ªdesperation etched across his face.


    But it was too late.


    GOAL!


    Manchester City 2¨C0 Brentford F.C.


    The stadium erupted into a frenzy of cheers, chants, and jubilation.


    Shevchenko pointed skyward, a wide grin breaking across his face as his teammates swarmed him in celebration.


    Meanwhile, Brentford¡¯s players stood frozen in disbelief. Their body language told the entire story¡ªdefenders with heads bowed, midfielders exchanging worried, confused glances.


    In just two brutal minutes, Brentford had been shattered, conceding two swift and crushing goals.


    The game was slipping away.


    The players glanced toward the bench, but seeing their head coach Phil Holder sitting silently without issuing any instructions crushed their morale.


    The next three minutes, leading up to the 75th minute, became an unrelenting nightmare for Brentford.


    In the 73rd minute, Larsson once again found Shevchenko on the right wing. Without hesitation, Shevchenko whipped in a dangerous cross, only for it to be deflected out for a corner.


    74th minute, a minute later, Lennon and Larsson combined with lightning-quick passes, slicing through Brentford¡¯s midfield. Lennon then slipped the ball to Cafu, who was completely unmarked. Cafu delivered a precise cross toward Trezeguet, but the Brentford defense managed to block his header at the last second.


    And then came the 75th minute ¡ª Neil Lennon¡¯s sharp cross found Larsson rising powerfully above the defenders. His towering header screamed toward goal, shaking the net and sealing the relentless City assault.


    The stadium erupted once again into a thunderous roar as Larsson¡¯s header crashed into the back of the net.


    The players on the bench pumped their fists in celebration, while Brentford¡¯s defenders sank to the ground in disbelief, heads in their hands.


    "Larsson rises like a giant in the box! What a perfectly timed cross from Lennon, and an even better finish from the Swedish striker! That header was unstoppable¡ªCity are absolutely dominating now. Brentford look shell-shocked as City turn up the pressure even more. This is ruthless football from O¡¯Neill¡¯s men!"


    For the rest of the match, there was practically nothing of significance as it became clear that City would win comfortably. They dominated possession with over 70% control compared to Brentford.


    The visitors retreated deep, resigned to their fate, while City maintained steady pressure, expertly managing the tempo to secure the victory.


    O¡¯Neill clapped his hands, satisfied with the result.


    For him, this was a very positive outcome¡ªnot only because it kept City at the top, but also because it put pressure on the undisciplined Ronaldo, proving that even without him, City could win comfortably.


    Full time: Manchester City 3 ¨C 0 Brentford F.C.


    After the match, unlike the jubilant expressions of the City players who had just extended their winning streak, their faces were solemn.


    News had just broken internally: Paul Lake had announced his retirement.


    Not even the renowned medical centre at Lilleshall Hall¡ªthe revered training ground for England¡¯s brightest young talents¡ªcould save Paul Lake¡¯s career.


    He ruptured his ligaments during Mel Machin¡¯s management and then re-ruptured them during Alan Ball¡¯s tenure, as the initial operation had not worked as expected.


    As a result, he had to undergo knee surgery a second time within the span of three years. By the time his playing days were over, it was said that Lake had spent more time at the medical centre than any other footballer in the club¡¯s history.


    Paul Lake¡¯s early career had been full of promise. He had shone for Manchester City¡¯s youth team, winning the FA Youth Cup in 1986 and playing a key role in helping the club earn promotion from the Second Division.


    But the cruel blow came in the match against Sunderland, when a ruptured anterior cruciate ligament began a long battle with injury and rehabilitation that would eventually force him to retire. (Chapter 97)


    Finally, the verdict came¡ª21 years old Paul lake announced his retirement in January 1996.


    The City players and coaching staff chose not to leave early. Instead, they gathered at Wythenshawe Hospital to be by Lake¡¯s side.


    Usually bursting with energy and fierce determination, Lake now sat quietly, tears brimming in his eyes.


    The cruel finality of his career ending so suddenly weighed heavily on him. One by one, teammates stepped forward, offering quiet words of comfort and deep respect.


    O¡¯Neill gently wrapped an arm around Lake¡¯s shoulders, pulling him close. "You fought with everything you had, Paul. This club owes you so much," he said softly.


    Overcome with emotion, Lake rested his head against O¡¯Neill¡¯s chest. "It¡¯s so hard to say goodbye," he whispered, his voice breaking.


    The room fell into a profound silence, the shared grief marking the close of a Chapter¡ªnot just for Paul, but for everyone connected to the club.


    Though the team had just secured a hard-fought victory, this farewell was a poignant reminder of the fragile nature of the beautiful game they all loved.


    Despite Richard¡¯s kind offer, relayed through Miss Heysen, to keep Lake on as a coach, Paul had made his decision.


    Inspired by the encouragement of David Fevre, he would pursue a physiotherapy license instead¡ªa new path born from resilience and hope, leaving Richard quietly speechless.


    After a tough moment, Richard gave Miss Heysen a series of instructions on how to handle Paul Lake¡¯s retirement.


    Despite his career effectively ending at the age of 21 he was later inducted into the Manchester City Hall of Fame, and was seen as a player who would have been a key first team player for many years had it not been for his injury problems.


    This decision wasn¡¯t made to win favor with the City players or to reassure them that any injury would lead to an immediate place in the hall of fame¡ªit was about something much deeper. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Paul Lake had been close to Richard since his early days as a youth coach at Manchester City. Moreover, it was thanks to Lake that, during Peter Swales¡¯ reign, Richard was able to strike a blow when Swales had refused to pay for Lake¡¯s injury treatment in the United States.


    In Brescia, Italy, Richard took a deep breath as he heard the news of Paul Lake¡¯s retirement.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


    Suddenly, there was a knock at his hotel door.


    Richard opened it to find Marina Granovskaia standing there.


    "We have an update regarding the Solskj?r deal," she said.


    Hearing this, Richard¡¯s eyes lit up. He gestured for her to come inside, eager to hear the news before the "Iron Lady" briefed him.


    Marina continued, her voice calm but measured, "Manchester United has officially made an offer¡ª¡ê4 million for Solskj?r."


    ¡ê4 million for Solskj?r!


    Richard leaned back, silent for a moment, lost in thought. The offer was tempting, to be honest. After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Let¡¯s put those talks on hold for now. We have a more urgent situation here."


    Marina nodded. She already knew what he meant.


    "Is there any news regarding Pirlo?"


    "Yes," she replied. "We¡¯ve received a response. He¡¯s willing to meet."


    A flicker of purpose returned to Richard¡¯s eyes. He exhaled slowly, processing the shift in momentum. "That¡¯s good," he murmured, rising from his seat and straightening his jacket.


    "Let¡¯s go to Stadio Mario Rigamonti."


    Without another word, they grabbed their coats and headed out. The brisk Italian air greeted them as they stepped into the evening.


    Rather than focusing on Solskj?r, Richard¡¯s attention was now fixed on another rising star¡ªAndrea Pirlo.


    The boy who could define a generation.

 Chapter 196: You’re not a Second Baggio; you are Andrea Pirlo!

    Chapter 196: You¡¯re not a Second Baggio; you are Andrea Pirlo!Since the start of 1996, Richard had found himself unexpectedly busy.


    First, there was Karren Brady and her mission involving Adidas and FC Girondins de Bordeaux.


    Second, the Netscape IPO demanded his attention.


    Third, he was targeting several Italian players for the next season, preparing for the worst-case scenario¡ªthat "City¡¯s shop" might really open.


    Fourth, there were ongoing negotiations regarding Ole Gunnar Solskj?r and Keith Gillespie.


    January had flown by, week after week, and Richard had already spent three weeks in Brescia.


    He had come with the hope of watching Andrea Pirlo in action during a Serie B match for Brescia. But to his frustration, Pirlo never got on the pitch, leaving Richard restless and eager for answers.


    In the next fixture, once again Richard waited¡ªyet unexpectedly, Pirlo remained on the bench, leaving him feeling helpless.


    Finally, after raising the bid from ¡ê1 million to ¡ê2 million, Brescia responded and granted permission for Richard to make contact with Andrea Pirlo.


    To be honest, over the past few weeks, Richard¡¯s name has been buzzing all across Italy.


    The bureaucratic atmosphere within the Italian Football Association has been stirred up. After receiving Richard¡¯s bid for Pirlo, they didn¡¯t just scoff at it¡ªthey leaked the offer to the media, using Richard¡¯s example as fuel for gossip and entertainment throughout Italy.


    Basically, the association wants to use Richard to showcase just how valuable their Serie A and homegrown players are. Meanwhile, the clubs want to use Richard¡¯s example to increase the value of their Italian players¡ªeither to earn money or to retain their key players.


    In fact, Brescia even went so far as to send Richard an official invitation letter to attend the match against Salernitana, hoping he would take an interest in players beyond Pirlo.


    Richard has even seen the coverage in Corriere dello Sport, where Italian football commentators harshly mocked Manchester City¡ªan obscure English club with a history of spending millions on players like Marco Materazzi and Gianluca Zambrotta, who played in Serie B just last season.


    It¡¯s a well-known that national teams often recruit their youth players from domestic leagues. Coaches primarily scout within their own countries, so it¡¯s only natural that the standout players in domestic youth leagues are chosen for national youth teams.


    Marco Materazzi and Gianluca Zambrotta, though considered exceptional at their clubs before joining Manchester City, never played for the national team¡ªnot even at the youth level¡ªmaking them completely overlooked by the national selectors and Italian pundits.


    Richard even was mocked and dismissed as a "frog in a well" by Italians, implying he had never truly experienced Italian football. They thought that simply because he had a few Italian players, he mistakenly believed he had discovered exceptional talent.


    Their disdain was unmistakable.


    After finishing the article, Richard didn¡¯t care. He set the newspaper down and said flatly, ¡¯Let¡¯s see who¡¯s laughing in the end.¡¯


    Without wasting any time, Richard arrived at the stadium and immediately arranged a meeting with the young man destined to become Italy¡¯s next midfield powerhouse.


    For this negotiation, Richard¡¯s main purpose wasn¡¯t just to close the deal¡ªit was to teach Marina how to handle footballers carefully.


    A young man, or a future prodigy, he might say.


    The tone, the pacing, the approach¡ªit all had to be different.


    Richard wanted Marina to understand that negotiating with young talents wasn¡¯t about pressure or numbers. It was about vision, trust, and planting the seed of a future.


    This is what makes handling footballers so different from negotiating with seasoned businessmen¡ªwhether it¡¯s about promised minutes, a defined role in the team, or even emotional assurance, it¡¯s a more delicate balance.


    Richard knew this. That¡¯s why he took a step back and let Marina lead, watching carefully as he tried to bridge the gap between strategy and sincerity.


    As they stepped out of the taxi, Marina glanced up at the modest yet proud structure ahead of them.


    "Is this Stadio Mario Rigamonti?" she asked, adjusting her coat against the chill of the Italian evening.


    Richard gave a short nod, his eyes scanning the stadium¡¯s fa?ade. It wasn¡¯t grand like the San Siro or as polished as the modern English grounds, but it had its own charm¡ªhumble, gritty, and full of stories.


    The kind of place where legends quietly began.


    "This is it," he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "The home of Brescia Calcio... and maybe the birthplace of something much bigger."


    They walked toward the entrance, boots crunching lightly on the gravel.


    A local staff member waved them through the side gate, recognizing them from earlier inquiries.


    Inside, the pitch gleamed under the floodlights. The stands, though far from full, echoed with the energy of the few faithful fans scattered across them.


    Tonight¡¯s match: Brescia vs Salernitana.


    After skimming through the starting lineup, Richard shook his head. No one he particularly recognized.


    According to Marina¡¯s research on Andrea Pirlo, the young boy had started with Flero¡¯s youth team, then moved to Voluntas, and eventually joined the youth academy of local club Brescia in 1992.


    Now, in 1995, at just 16 years old, Pirlo had become the youngest player to make a senior appearance for the club.


    It was a milestone that made the club¡ªand its fans¡ªplace their hopes on him. However, in the current season, Pirlo hadn¡¯t featured in the senior team, though he had helped win the Torneo di Viareggio with the youth side.


    In fact, Pirlo had already made his debut earlier in the season under coach Mircea Lucescu, in a match against Reggiana¡ªbut he had left little impression on Lucescu or the fans.


    In other words, it seemed like just another youth debut¡ªnothing special.


    Perhaps it was the club¡¯s propaganda that inflated his profile, painting him as a prodigy for debuting at 16. But his performance hadn¡¯t exactly turned heads.


    And Richard knew exactly why Pirlo had looked so ordinary in his debut. It was basically the same case as with Gianluigi Buffon.


    They still haven¡¯t found the right formula for Andrea Pirlo.


    After the staff guided them to the meeting room, Richard finally met the young boy¡ªalong with his father and a coach he didn¡¯t recognize.


    Richard shook his head. If it were up to him, he wouldn¡¯t even allow a coach to handle a situation like this, let alone let Pirlo negotiate directly with another club. That would have been immediately prohibited.


    His level, after all, was comparable to the likes of Cafu, Roberto Carlos, and Ronaldo.


    "Don¡¯t pitch the money," Richard whispered to Marina beside him. "Paint the picture."


    Though Marina didn¡¯t fully understand what Richard meant, she still nodded.


    One important factor was Pirlo¡¯s rich background¡ªoffering a high salary alone wouldn¡¯t be enough to impress him.


    Although City already had a number of midfielders, they were still missing a crucial piece: a masterful playmaker. While Neil Lennon possessed commendable organizational skills, Richard¡¯s vision for City was not just to win¡ªbut to win beautifully.


    Even if they couldn¡¯t fully emulate Barcelona¡¯s tiki-taka, he wanted their counterattacks to be elegant and fluid. To achieve this, he needed a midfield commander with a broader tactical perspective.


    Such a player would allow the team to slice through defenses with incisive passes and launch sharp, coordinated attacks by breaking defensive lines¡ªcreating a dynamic and multifaceted offensive system.


    In the meeting room, the young Pirlo looked bewildered. He had only signed his first professional contract the previous year, and now, suddenly being sold felt completely unacceptable to him.


    His father, on the other hand, showed a bit more understanding. After all, ¡ê2 million was no small sum for a modest Serie B club like Brescia.


    "Buona sera, signore," Richard said with a smile as he extended his hand toward Mr. Pirlo.


    "Do you speak Italian?" Mr. Pirlo asked as he shook Richard¡¯s hand.


    "A little bit," Richard replied.


    Of course, as a businessman, Mr. Pirlo was fluent in English, so their communication went very smoothly.


    Richard then turned to the young man. "Can I call you Andrea? Have you ever heard of Manchester City?"


    Andrea Pirlo shook his head honestly. "I only know about Manchester United. I saw some news about Manchester City recently. I know it¡¯s a club from Manchester, but it doesn¡¯t seem to be in the Premier League."


    Richard didn¡¯t mind. He explained patiently, "Yes, actually, we were promoted just last season¡ªfrom the third tier to the second tier¡ªand now we¡¯re aiming for the Premier League next season."


    Though Richard spoke with enthusiasm, Andrea¡¯s only response was a quiet nod, silently urging him to continue. After all, promises of glory were common¡ªAndrea had heard clubs boast about titles and ambitions many times before, only to see those words turn to empty promises.


    But Richard wasn¡¯t discouraged by the reserved reaction. He knew he couldn¡¯t underestimate this young man. His goal was to convey his utmost sincerity and commitment.


    "Andrea, before we continue this conversation, let me show you something," Richard said, pulling out a document showing City¡¯s current performance in the second division.


    "Twenty-goal difference?" Andrea Pirlo said, clearly taken aback.


    City being at the top of the table wasn¡¯t surprising to him, but a 20-goal difference was something else¡ªit meant City truly dominated.


    "Yes," Richard replied. "Here is the list of City players. We also have several players from Italy, so Andrea, you can rest assured. What I want to tell you is that City is an ambitious club. We don¡¯t just intend to survive in the Premier League next season; we want to become the best team in England. And after conquering England, we¡¯ll aim for Europe!"


    Richard paused, then continued, "We aim for long-term dominance. That¡¯s why, if City needs to quantify this grand goal, I hope you will become a part of City and leave a brilliant mark in our history."


    Andrea Pirlo and his father exchanged glances. To be honest, Richard¡¯s passionate words had struck a chord. Andrea, accustomed to the rigid and dogmatic world of Italian football, found Richard¡¯s enthusiasm refreshing.


    After a moment of silence, Andrea began to examine the documents in his hands. He was left with a strong impression¡ªespecially when Richard mentioned they had another Italian player on the team, which piqued his curiosity.


    Gianluca Zambrotta and Marco Materazzi.


    Both had made double-digit appearances, and the feedback and ratings from each match¡¯s coaching staff were thorough and insightful.


    City was clearly well-prepared, and the fact that the club owner himself had come to persuade him was flattering. It was something Andrea could seriously consider.


    Andrea glanced over at his father, silently seeking his opinion.


    Mr. Pirlo, however, simply shrugged. For him, the decision was up to Andrea. In fact, he and his wife had initially opposed Andrea¡¯s pursuit of a football career. But at sixteen, in the rebellious phase of adolescence, they had decided to let it be for now.


    In their minds, in five or ten years, when Andrea fully understood reality, he would likely return and take over the family business¡ªputting football behind him.


    If Richard knew what was going on in Mr. Pirlo¡¯s mind, he might have patted him on the shoulder with pity. It seemed Mr. Pirlo would have to work hard quickly so that someone could take over the family business someday.


    "Andrea, let¡¯s talk about you. What are your expectations? What do you see yourself doing on the field?"


    Seeing Pirlo remain silent, Richard decided to steer the conversation.


    "Can you share your thoughts on the position you want to play and how you want to impact the game?"


    With a slight frown, Andrea admitted, "Honestly, the coaches at Brescia say I have the potential to be the next Baggio."


    "Roberto Baggio?" Richard¡¯s surprise was evident, while Mr. Pirlo smiled knowingly at his son¡¯s bold claim.


    "Impossible, right?" Andrea added, noticing Richard¡¯s reaction. He figured it sounded a bit far-fetched.


    Even now, he had yet to secure a permanent spot in the first team¡ªso how could he possibly be the next Baggio?


    Unknown to both Pirlos, Richard didn¡¯t want to dampen Andrea¡¯s aspirations. Yet he was taken aback by the immense pressure placed on the young player just by being told he could become the next Roberto Baggio.


    Such comparisons could be both inspiring and overwhelming for someone still finding his way.


    Richard rubbed his chin in deep thought. In reality, Baggio¡¯s career could be divided into two phases: before ¡¯95, he was quick, nimble, and graceful on the ball; after ¡¯95, as he aged, his speed declined, but his vision and ability to organize the game improved significantly.


    He pulled out his notepad and circled the offensive playmaker/attacking midfielder position behind the striker on a simple football field diagram. "This is the position you play for the club, right?"


    Pirlo nodded.


    The current Andrea Pirlo aspires to be the first type of Baggio¡ªquick, nimble, and graceful on the ball. That¡¯s why Richard mentioned earlier that they still needed to find the right formula for him.


    In fact, Andrea¡¯s registered position at Brescia is offensive playmaker¡ªjust like Baggio, who played as an attacking midfielder for the club.


    "Have you encountered any challenges?"


    After a brief pause, Pirlo replied quietly, "The coaches say I can become like Baggio," then hesitated, "but I can¡¯t dribble past defenders like he could. When I get near the box, I sometimes feel lost, spending a lot of energy trying to shake off defenders."


    Richard nodded. "That¡¯s right, Andrea. You can¡¯t become a second Baggio; it¡¯s simply impossible. Your unique qualities are the biggest barrier to copying Baggio¡¯s style, and no matter how hard you try, that won¡¯t change."


    Pirlo¡¯s gaze dimmed. He knew his limits¡ªhe couldn¡¯t match Baggio¡¯s speed, let alone his ability to combine speed with ball control.


    "But you can become the one and only Pirlo! You¡¯re not a second Baggio; you are Andrea Pirlo! If you stay at Brescia, you¡¯ll gradually improve as a trequartista, but I can offer you a bigger stage where your talents can truly shine, where you can play to your strengths. And I will never ask you to do something beyond your abilities."


    Richard¡¯s eyes were sincere¡ªa quality he could guarantee with his integrity.


    Looking at the current City squad under O¡¯Neill, he never expected Ferdinand to be heavily involved in ball distribution as a defender. In his mind, the only player truly capable of that role was Neil Lennon. But Lennon himself was a typical player who needed strong support from the back. He couldn¡¯t do everything on his own.


    Richard saw the current City team as somewhat similar to the future Manchester United that relied too much on Bruno Fernandes.


    That was basically how Lennon operated at City right now¡ªhe often relied on creativity and ingenuity to create and finish chances, rather than working within a strict tactical system. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This couldn¡¯t do.


    How a manager combined these different talents into a cohesive unit was O¡¯Neill¡¯s responsibility. Getting the best out of players within their capabilities was key. If a manager demanded performance beyond a player¡¯s skill set, it wasn¡¯t the player¡¯s fault for falling short¡ªit was the manager¡¯s limitation.


    So, the current City squad urgently needs a tactical reset.


    Later, when the system is effective, it¡¯s not the club that should bend to fit the players¡ªinstead, both the players and the manager must adapt to City¡¯s system and philosophy.


    And for that to happen, first City needs players capable of executing the system flawlessly.


    Without the right talent who understand and can perform within the tactical framework, even the best plans will fall apart. It¡¯s a combination of the right strategy and the right players working together that will bring success.

 Chapter 197: Rejected Again?

    Chapter 197: Rejected Again?After the match against Brentford, City were set to face Barnsley next¡ªand everyone expected it to be an easy win for Manchester City.


    Unexpectedly, just like in the Brentford match, City struggled to break through Barnsley¡¯s defense in the first half.


    In truth, this had become a recurring pattern.


    Whether it was Van Bommel, Robbie Savage, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara, Jamie Pollock, Graham Fenton, Steve Lomas, or Theodoros Zagorakis¡ªamong all these midfielders, the only ones truly capable of carrying the ball forward were Neil Lennon and, to a lesser extent, Jackie McNamara. But even McNamara wasn¡¯t on the same level as Lennon.


    So whenever Neil Lennon didn¡¯t play, the midfield relied purely on box-to-box efforts¡ªcharging forward, trying to deliver the ball to the two strikers, and then hoping for the best.


    There was no real orchestration. No one to dictate the tempo or link defense to attack with real precision.


    As the match between Manchester City and Barnsley entered the 80th minute, almost everyone believed the two teams would settle for a draw.


    Robertson let out a heavy sigh. He had wanted to persuade O¡¯Neill to ease Rinaldo¡¯s punishment, but he knew his hands were tied.


    Even he himself felt that a draw would be a fair outcome, considering Manchester City still lacked a consistently fluid attack.


    But surprises often arrive quietly, when you least expect them.


    City conceded from a corner kick!


    AGAIN!


    "Goal!!"


    Nicky Forster caught City completely off guard! Panic rippled through the City ranks as they scrambled to regroup. Now they faced the daunting task of chasing the game if they wanted to salvage anything from this match.


    Barnsley 1 ¨C 0 Manchester City


    The sudden deficit injected urgency into the game. City¡¯s players pressed forward aggressively, pushing higher up the pitch in search of an equalizer.


    O¡¯Neill shouted instructions from the sideline, urging calm amidst the chaos. "Keep your heads! Play smart! Control the ball¡ªcreate chances!" Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Despite the pressure, Barnsley remained disciplined at the back, absorbing City¡¯s attacks and looking for opportunities to strike on the counter.


    The fans held their breath as City poured everything into their offensive efforts. The clock ticked relentlessly as City fought not just for a goal, but for momentum and pride.


    PHWEEE!


    After the whistle blew and the ball went out, Gallas quickly took the throw-in on the right side. With sharp eyes, he spotted Cafu making a powerful run down the right wing.


    Cafu received the ball.


    For the previous eighty minutes, he had typically crossed from the flank at a 45-degree angle or played through balls to exploit gaps between the opposing full-backs and center-backs. However, this time, after a clever feint that deceived his marker, he cut inside toward the center and spotted an opening.


    He slid a pass toward the top right edge of the penalty area and Barnsley midfielder tracked the ball with his eyes¡ªthen froze in disbelief.


    Since when?!


    Trezeguet, who had replaced Shevchenko, had stayed in the box per O¡¯Neill¡¯s instructions. He hovered around the area, bothering defenders but never really threatening. Yet now, seemingly out of nowhere, he appeared at the edge of the penalty area¡ªcompletely unmarked.


    With his body half-turned toward goal, Trezeguet felt a sense of calm as he met Cafu¡¯s pass.


    The ball arrived at an awkward height¡ªtoo low for a header, too high for a clean volley¡ªbut that was the kind of chaos he thrived in.


    He adjusted mid-stride, letting the ball drop just enough before snapping his right foot across it in one fluid motion.


    The ball rocketed off his boot with a wicked curve, skimming low and fast.


    The goalkeeper, caught off guard, was still shifting his weight when he realized the ball was already slicing beneath him.


    He dropped to block it, but it was too late¡ªthe shot had slipped between his legs and slammed into the back of the net.


    It was a goal that looked deceptively simple¡ªuntil you realized how little space Trezeguet had to work with, and how brutally efficient he had been.


    Barnsley 1 ¨C 1 Manchester City


    At home, Barnsley were naturally unwilling to accept draw.


    In the final five minutes, they launched a furious counterattack, but they couldn¡¯t break through Manchester City¡¯s defense.


    Then, in the last minute of stoppage time, Gallas headed a clearance wide to the right.


    Ferdinand followed with a long ball that unexpectedly turned into a counterattack.


    Lennon nodded the ball backward from the center circle. Not far ahead, Trezeguet burst into Barnsley¡¯s half. With Barnsley¡¯s backline caught high up the pitch, he stayed perfectly onside and broke free toward goal.


    Facing the onrushing goalkeeper, Trezeguet kept his composure and coolly slotted the ball into the bottom right corner of the net¡ªfrom just outside the penalty area.


    Barnsley 1 ¨C 2 Manchester City.


    "Three goals in two games¡ªTrezeguet¡¯s wasting no time settling in at City! You¡¯ve got to wonder... is this the start of something special? It¡¯s not just the goals¡ªit¡¯s the way he moves, the timing, the calm under pressure. City fans are starting to dream, and the rest of the league might want to keep an eye on this one!"


    Full-time: Barnsley 1 ¨C 2 Manchester City


    For the next league matches, City dropped valuable points with a 1-1 draw at Stoke City, followed by another 1-1 draw at Bolton.


    These results allowed Sunderland and Derby County to start closing in on City at the top of the table.


    1?? Manchester City ¨C 66 pts


    2?? Sunderland ¨C 64 pts


    3?? West Brom ¨C 61 pts


    4?? Derby County ¨C 55 pts


    5?? Ipswich Town ¨C 53 pts


    January league results weren¡¯t bad¡ªtwo wins and two draws¡ªbut for O¡¯Neill, it basically felt like a step back.


    After the winning streak they had from November through December, this dip in form was a clear sign that momentum was slowing down.


    "We need a new striker."


    Early that morning, O¡¯Neill called Miss Heysen to discuss bringing in a new forward.


    With Solskjaer about to leave, Ronaldo still sidelined by suspension, and the only strikers left being Larsson, Shevchenko, and Trezeguet, it was clear the squad was short upfront for the league, FA Cup and League Cup.


    "So, who do you have in mind?" Miss Heysen asked.


    Any transfer decision had to go through Richard first¡ªand even O¡¯Neill was well aware of that. He didn¡¯t bother to hide it.


    "Nigel Clough is a solid option. Experienced, reliable."


    "Nigel Clough from Liverpool?"


    "Yes."


    ...The out-of-favour Liverpool striker, Nigel Clough.


    Miss Heysen shook her head. "Mr. O¡¯Neill, you do realize how old Clough is, right? He doesn¡¯t fit our vision for transfers."


    Since Richard became owner, his philosophy has been clear: sign young, talented players with potential to grow into future stars. It¡¯s not just about experience¡ªit¡¯s about building a team that can develop, innovate, and compete for years to come.


    "That¡¯s why we need to focus on veteran players now who can bring experience and stability to the squad," O¡¯Neill said firmly. "Young talent is important, but sometimes the team needs a steady hand, someone who¡¯s been through the battles and can lead on and off the pitch."


    Miss Heysen sighed. "What we really need is a striker with sharp instincts in front of goal. Experience helps, but goals win games. Lately, that¡¯s exactly what we¡¯ve been missing. Honestly, Mr. O¡¯Neill, I think it¡¯s better to play Ronaldo rather than gamble on Clough."


    O¡¯Neill felt stuck¡ªcaught between what he wanted and the club¡¯s long-term plans.


    Seeing his silence, Miss Heysen decided it was best to take the matter directly to Richard.


    O¡¯Neill simply nodded as she left the room.


    When Miss Heysen called Richard to report that O¡¯Neill had requested another transfer¡ªand this time it was for Nigel Clough from Liverpool, valued at ¡ê1.5 million¡ªRichard raised an eyebrow.


    "O¡¯Neill believes his experience will help stabilize the team," Miss Heysen explained cautiously.


    Richard didn¡¯t hesitate.


    "Rejected."


    There was a pause on the line before Miss Heysen responded, "You¡¯re sure? O¡¯Neill really thinks Clough could be the steady presence we need upfront."


    "We¡¯re building a team to grow, not patch it up temporarily. Clough doesn¡¯t fit that vision."


    "Understood. I¡¯ll inform O¡¯Neill and look for younger options. And, by the way, Richard¡ª"


    "What is it?"


    "There¡¯s been a fax regarding Ole Gunnar Solskj?r. Manchester United has increased their offer for him to ¡ê5 million. Mr. Solbakken and Ole himself have already been seeking a meeting with you. But since you¡¯re in Italy right now...So¡ª"


    Alex Ferguson was finally truly desperate!


    With only Andy Cole and Eric Cantona available to lead the line for Manchester United, they have already raised their bid to ¡ê5 million!


    "Are there any other players getting offers from other clubs?"


    "Well, it¡¯s not exactly that we¡¯ve had offers from other clubs, but Nicky Weaver has refused to extend his contract, and Richard Wright has also submitted a transfer request."


    Richard was taken aback by the news. Nick Weaver wasn¡¯t too much of a concern¡ªbeing the third-choice goalkeeper, he¡¯d likely find another opportunity elsewhere. But Richard Wright?


    He was just signed last season, and now he was already asking for a transfer?


    "Do you know why Wright wants to leave?"


    "Well," she paused before continuing, "Wright isn¡¯t getting enough playing time because Martin prefers Jens over him. Wright says that Martin promised he would be the first-choice goalkeeper, but since the league started, he¡¯s mostly been stuck on the bench."


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched. If he hadn¡¯t signed Lehmann at the last minute, Wright would likely be City¡¯s number one goalkeeper by now. But with Lehmann here, Wright¡¯s future as the starter is uncertain.


    "We¡¯ll accept the five million bid for Solskj?r. As for Nicky, we respect his decision, but please try to find him a new club¡ªat least that¡¯s what we can do to help him move on. And for Wright, as long as there¡¯s an offer around ¡ê250,000, we¡¯ll accept it."


    Miss Heysen didn¡¯t say much as she calmly carried out Richard¡¯s instructions.


    "Did you end up selling him to Manchester United?" Marina asked from her seat after Richard put down his phone.


    Richard gave a small nod. "United came in with a five million pound offer for Solskj?r. Honestly, if I¡¯d pushed them any harder, they probably would¡¯ve walked away from the deal."


    "Did you know United would push through with the deal?" Marina asked, narrowing her eyes. "Is that why you delayed it?"


    "Of course not," Richard denied instantly. "But based on how well Solskj?r fits into United¡¯s current tactics, I knew Alex Ferguson wouldn¡¯t make the offer unless he truly wanted him. This wasn¡¯t a maybe¡ªthis was a move they were ready to commit to."


    You¡¯re kidding me. With Giggs and Beckham delivering pass after pass, Solskj?r linking up with Keane, and Cole stationed up front¡ªthat was a true machine. That¡¯s how Manchester United dismantled Newcastle United. For Richard, Solskj?r was the key to it all.


    Marina nodded as she listened to Richard. "Then what about Buffon and Pirlo? It feels like the talks just fell apart."


    Richard shrugged. "It¡¯s not exactly a failure, since there wasn¡¯t much room for negotiation to begin with. Their main concern is whether City can secure promotion this season. And honestly, for players as talented as they are, it¡¯s completely reasonable for them to have doubts about Manchester City."


    Hearing this, Marina looked surprised. "Do you really want them that much?"


    Richard nodded firmly. "They¡¯re going to become legends. That¡¯s why you need to keep monitoring them closely¡ªbefore another club swoops in."


    Though both Buffon and Pirlo had declined City¡¯s approach for now, it wasn¡¯t a definitive rejection. They simply wanted to wait and see how City¡¯s season would unfold before making any decisions.


    For any further discussions, Richard had already handed the responsibility over to Marina¡ªhe had done all he could.


    Understanding his instructions, Marina nodded with determination.


    For her, watching and listening to Richard handle the negotiations was a new experience. To be honest, it was eye-opening.


    It was nothing like the structured world she knew¡ªwhere deals were based purely on numbers and talks. This was something else entirely. It was emotional, tactical, and deeply personal. In football, you¡¯re not just negotiating terms¡ªyou¡¯re navigating egos, ambitions, loyalties, and the relentless pressure from fans, agents, and the media.


    One wrong move, and everything could fall apart in an instant.

 Chapter 198: A Formidable Opponent

    Chapter 198: A Formidable OpponentBreaking News: Ole Gunnar Solskj?r Shocks Fans with Manchester United Transfer!


    Solskj?r Joins Manchester United ¨C City Fans Outraged by Unexpected Defection!


    At the press conference, as expected, the media asked sharp, probing questions about Solskj?r¡¯s controversial transfer.


    Reporter: "Mr. O¡¯Neill, reports say Ole Gunnar Solskj?r is set to join Manchester United. How does losing such a promising player to a rival affect Manchester City?"


    O¡¯Neill: "Well, it¡¯s certainly a blow to lose a player of Ole¡¯s talent, especially to a club like United. But football moves on. We respect his decision and will focus on building a squad that can compete regardless." S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Reporter: "Was there any chance to keep Solskj?r at City, or did the player push for this move?"


    O¡¯Neill: "We always want to keep our best players, but sometimes players have their own ambitions. Ole made his wishes clear, and we had to accept it."


    Reporter: "Some fans feel this transfer sends the wrong message about City¡¯s ambitions. What would you say to those supporters?"


    O¡¯Neill: "Football is a tough game. We understand the fans¡¯ frustrations, but we remain committed to pushing forward and bringing success to City. We have talented players here and are always looking to improve. Losing a player isn¡¯t ideal, but it¡¯s part of the game."


    The deal was reached, and it was also confirmed that during this winter transfer window, City will sell Keith Gillespie for ¡ê1.25 million and Ole Gunnar Solskj?r for ¡ê6 million!


    After learning that his request for Nigel Clough was unsuccessful, O¡¯Neill felt a moment of disappointment. But as a seasoned professional, he quickly accepted the setback, refocusing his energy on the task ahead¡ªthe crucial League Cup third-round clash against Bradford City.


    The final match in January would be the perfect opportunity to prepare the squad¡¯s fitness and sharpen their form for the upcoming FA Cup in early February.


    Last season, Bradford City suffered a major setback when they lost to the relatively less formidable Charlton Athletic in a crucial relegation battle.


    The result saw Bradford relegated to the third tier of the First Division¡ªa heavy blow for a side without any standout stars. The shadow of that defeat hung over the club well into the new season.


    In their previous two matches, Bradford¡¯s form had been lackluster¡ªa draw and a loss¡ªmaking it seem as if the team was struggling to regain its confidence and momentum.


    On match day, as O¡¯Neill walked out of the locker room, he paid close attention to the Bradford players¡¯ expressions as he passed through the tunnel. They were visibly energized and brimming with fighting spirit, clearly having rallied themselves before the game with a firm determination to win.


    This was good.


    O¡¯Neill wasn¡¯t afraid to face spirited teams. In fact, the more ambitious and aggressive the opposition, the more it pushed his own squad to develop and grow quickly.


    Their intensity also created tactical opportunities for his team¡¯s defensive counterattacks. On the other hand, he dreaded facing conservative teams, as their cautious style often limited his players¡¯ chances to express themselves in attack.


    The verbal battle among the fans in the stands had already begun, their voices rising in anticipation as the referee blew the whistle.


    PHWEEEE!


    Just as expected, Bradford launched a vigorous attack right from the kickoff, eager to seize control and put City on the back foot.


    Within the first thirty seconds, Bradford fired a shot from outside the box. Though it sailed well wide of the goal, it was a clear warning¡ªan announcement that they intended to fight hard and fast.


    City, on the other hand, remained composed but seemed momentarily unsettled by Bradford¡¯s aggressive pressing. The players were adjusting, trying to find their rhythm against the relentless pressure.


    For today¡¯s match, O¡¯Neill had deliberately fielded a largely second-string lineup. Given the circumstances, it was understandable¡ªresting key players and giving opportunities to others.


    Goalkeeper: Richard Wright


    Defenders: Richard Jobson, Keith Curle, William Gallas, Steve Finnan


    Midfielders: Jamie Pollock, Keith Gillespie, Graham Fenton, Steve Lomas


    Forwards: Shevchenko, Trezeguet


    This game would be a true measure of their depth, resilience, and tactical discipline.


    Standing calmly on the sidelines, O¡¯Neill kept his hands in his suit pockets even as he watched Bradford launch attack after attack.


    Deep down, he felt more excited than worried.


    City¡¯s weakness had been evident in the previous two matches: a vulnerability on set pieces.


    In the gritty tradition of League One, set pieces were often decisive. So when Bradford won a free kick deep in the attacking third, O¡¯Neill noticed most of their players surging forward.


    "Drop back! Mark your man¡ªone each! Don¡¯t let them slip through!" O¡¯Neill shouted from the sidelines.


    He had warned about Bradford¡¯s pressing in the pre-match meetings¡ªespecially during dead-ball situations. If there was one moment Bradford could truly threaten City, it was during set pieces. Even when they pressed high in open play, it mostly came down to aerial balls.


    The ball was lofted into the box. Amidst a scramble of bodies, Ferdinand muscled off a Bradford attacker and leapt to meet the cross, clearing it powerfully and deliberately toward the left flank.


    It bounced once on the grass¡ªand before the Bradford players could recover it, Richard Jobson flicked it forward with his right foot. The ball soared in a graceful arc, looping over the Bradford midfielders¡¯ heads.


    Shevchenko sprinted forward, finding himself in open space.


    At that moment, O¡¯Neill¡¯s right hand shot out of his pocket. He waved furiously toward the Bradford goal and shouted, "Go for it! No dilly-dallying!"


    Shevchenko charged ahead with the ball. Trezeguet ran parallel to him in a staggered formation, stretching Bradford¡¯s line. Finnan accelerated along the right flank, and Jobson moved up the left, making it a four-man break.


    The crowd erupted. Just moments earlier, City had been under threat. Now, they were counterattacking at blistering pace, four players streaking forward like runners on a track.


    Two Bradford defenders scrambled behind, trying to catch up. A third was pressing Shevchenko from the side.


    Approaching the halfway line, Shevchenko launched a long diagonal pass. The ball arced high across the pitch, flying toward the right side.


    Unmarked, Trezeguet was in the perfect position.


    Executing such a precise long pass at that speed demanded technical brilliance¡ªnot just from the passer, but also the receiver.


    It would be a tragedy to waste such a golden chance.


    City¡¯s fans held their breath. All eyes were on Trezeguet.


    On the touchline, O¡¯Neill clenched his fist. His heart thundered in his chest.


    The ball was played back into the center, where the unmarked Trezeguet took a quick step to steady himself¡ªthen unleashed a thunderous strike!


    The ball tore into the back of the net, leaving the goalkeeper frozen, powerless to react.


    The entire stadium exploded.


    A breathtaking counterattack¡ªspanning the length of the pitch and culminating in a goal just 11 seconds after defending a set piece¡ªsent City¡¯s fans into absolute delirium.


    O¡¯Neill turned sharply to the bench, voice cutting through the noise. "Gian! Theo! Warm up. You¡¯re going in for Shevchenko and Trezeguet!"


    The two players jumped to their feet, already peeling off their training tops.


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s tone shifted¡ªcalm but firm, with the weight of urgency behind it. "We¡¯re locking it down now. All-out defense. No risks, no openings. See this through."


    He clapped both players on the back as they jogged toward the touchline.


    "Stay sharp, track every run, and don¡¯t let them breathe."


    As the substitution board was raised and the crowd buzzed with anticipation, Shevchenko and Trezeguet jogged off to a chorus of applause.


    Their job was done.


    Now, it was time to dig in, grind it out, and protect the lead with everything they had.


    Full-time: Bradford City 0 ¨C 1 Manchester City.


    City advance to the fourth round of the League Cup!


    After concluding the third round of League One, City had just three days before their next challenge.


    In the early weeks of February, O¡¯Neill¡¯s team traveled to Shrewsbury for the FA Cup Fourth Round Proper, preparing for a clash between Manchester City and Shrewsbury Town.


    Shrewsbury had a stellar home record and aimed to secure promotion to the Premier League this season, making them direct rivals to Manchester City.


    Perhaps due to City¡¯s momentum, Shrewsbury played conservatively on their home turf.


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s team maintained a solid attacking strategy, though they couldn¡¯t break through Shrewsbury¡¯s strong defensive setup, resulting in a goalless 0-0 draw after ninety minutes.


    The tension in the stadium was palpable as the match ended 0-0 after extra time still, pushing the teams into a nerve-wracking penalty shootout.


    City¡¯s fans held their breath, every heartbeat syncing with each step toward the spot. O¡¯Neill paced on the sidelines, eyes locked on his players.


    The weight of expectation hung heavy in the air.


    One by one, City¡¯s players stepped up to the penalty spot, their faces calm and focused. Each shot was struck with confident precision, the ball hitting the back of the net again and again.


    The stadium echoed with cheers as players and staff alike believed this shootout was theirs to win. Confidence surged through the team¡ªhope burning bright.


    However, penalty shootouts are often a game of luck as much as skill. As the shootout dragged on, the pressure mounted.


    Larsson, the next City player, approached the ball with heavy steps. The crowd held its breath.


    He struck¡ªbut the shot sailed wide.


    A collective gasp rippled through the stadium.


    Shrewsbury¡¯s final penalty taker stepped up with calm determination. The stadium fell silent. The ball rolled into the net.


    O¡¯Neill stood frozen on the sidelines, the bitter taste of defeat sinking deep as Shrewsbury celebrated their hard-fought victory.


    City were out of the FA Cup!


    Turning slowly toward his own team, O¡¯Neill¡¯s expression hardened. His players, heads bowed and shoulders heavy, shuffled back to the center circle. He gathered them around, his voice low but steady.


    "This hurts. It¡¯s a bitter pill¡ªbut it¡¯s not the end. We showed heart. We fought hard. Now, we learn. We get better. And next time, we win."


    Despite the sting, a flicker of resolve sparked in the eyes of his players. The celebration behind them was a harsh reminder of what they had lost¡ªbut also a motivation to come back stronger.


    O¡¯Neill took one last look at the jubilant Shrewsbury team before leading his City players off the pitch, already plotting their redemption.


    It was understandable that the players felt demoralized¡ªafter all, they had given everything on the pitch.


    But that¡¯s football.


    Even if you have the best of the best, you can still lose tomorrow.


    After the match, once the players had finished cleaning up and the stadium began to empty, O¡¯Neill retreated to his office.


    The weight of the defeat still lingered, but his mind was already shifting forward.


    On his desk lay the envelope containing the draw for City¡¯s next opponent in the fourth round of the League Cup. He picked it up slowly, eyes narrowing in focus.


    With a deep breath, O¡¯Neill opened the envelope and scanned the name inside.


    He cursed the draw.


    League Cup Fourth Round: Manchester City vs Arsenal.

 Chapter 199: Teasing the Market

    Chapter 199: Teasing the MarketAfter wrapping up the negotiations with Buffon and Pirlo, Richard shifted his full attention to the next major item on his agenda: Netscape¡¯s IPO.


    Trailing behind him were Marina Granovskaia and Karren Brady, both of whom had personally requested to accompany him on this trip to Silicon Valley, United States.


    Richard agreed, recognizing the value of exposing them to the kind of high-level financial maneuvering that few had ever witnessed firsthand.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.


    In his private office suite in Illinois, a knock echoed softly through the quiet room.


    This office had been set up by both Clark and Andreessen for Richard¡ªa gesture of respect from the only one willing to help them in their struggle against NCSA. Though Richard rarely used the space, it stood as a symbol of their trust and partnership.


    "Who is it?" Richard called out.


    "Mr. Clark and his team have arrived."


    "Let them in."


    He had been expecting this visit. The door opened, and in stepped Netscape¡¯s founder, Jim Clark, followed closely by CEO Marc Andreessen.


    "Jim! Marc!" Richard rose from his seat, greeting them warmly with a firm handshake. "Did you manage to get any rest last night?"


    Clark offered a tired smile. "Not at all. The thought of the company going public today kept me up. I kept wondering if this was real or just a dream... I didn¡¯t sleep a wink."


    Richard noticed the dark circles under Clark¡¯s eyes. The anxiety was evident, and it was understandable.


    Whether it was Clark, Andreessen, or their young team¡ªmany of them still under thirty¡ªthey had taken a fledgling company and brought it to the doorstep of NASDAQ in under a year. If they weren¡¯t nervous, it would¡¯ve been more surprising


    Richard gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. After formally introducing Karren Brady and Marina Granovskaia as his right and left hands at Maddox Capital, they began their discussion.


    Andreessen chimed in with a grin, "The demand is insane. I heard that if you¡¯re not investing at least $100,000, you won¡¯t even get a single share. Even Goldman Sachs was caught off guard."


    Richard chuckled. "I¡¯ve heard the same. Word is the IPO¡¯s a runaway success already. People are scrambling to get in. Jim, you might want to start thinking about how you¡¯re going to spend that first billion."


    Jim Clark managed a laugh, and some of the tension melted from his face. Richard¡¯s calm tone, mixed with quiet confidence, was contagious.


    "I was worried that if the IPO underperformed, it might somehow hurt you, since you put your trust in me. But I¡¯m really relieved now."


    Netscape¡¯s meteoric rise hadn¡¯t come from luck alone. A significant part of it was thanks to Richard¡¯s early vision¡ªcrafting not just a product, but an ecosystem that would keep users¡ªand advertisers¡ªcoming back. That framework gave Netscape more than just momentum. It gave them a long-term plan, and Wall Street was buying in.


    Richard didn¡¯t respond to the praise. Instead, he gestured toward the sofa and said, "We still have some time. Let¡¯s sit down and talk."


    The five of them settled into their seats, Richard at the center with Marina and Karren just behind him, facing their guests.


    "Would you like some tea while we wait?" Richard offered.


    "No, thanks," Clark replied, his tension clear. "Honestly, if I eat or drink anything, I might just throw up."


    "There¡¯s nothing to worry about," Richard said calmly.


    "Easy for you to say. This is a NASDAQ listing we¡¯re talking about," Clark replied, his eyes wide with nerves.


    Having barely slept all night, Clark glanced anxiously at Richard.


    Andreessen broke the silence, asking, "Once the stock starts trading, there won¡¯t be a huge sell-off that crashes the price, right?"


    Richard smiled reassuringly. "Everyone says the new millennium will be defined by an information revolution powered by the internet. And who¡¯s leading that revolution?"


    Clark caught on immediately. "Netscape. The company we built."


    "Exactly," Richard nodded, leaning back and clasping his hands. "Money is the most honest and straightforward language. The rush to buy into the IPO shows investors believe Netscape¡ªand the internet¡ªare the future."


    "Intel¡¯s CEO said something similar in a CNBC interview," Karren added. "He predicted that within a few years, over a billion computers would be connected online, creating massive value."


    "See? Even they recognize the true value of Netscape. So why don¡¯t you trust your own product?" Richard said, leaning forward. "If people see this stock as a guaranteed jackpot but can¡¯t get in because demand is so high, won¡¯t that just make them even more desperate?"


    "That makes sense," Clark nodded thoughtfully, though curiosity lingered in his eyes. "So, what do you think those investors who missed out on the IPO will do?"


    Richard remained silent, passing the question to Andreessen, the CEO instead. He replied confidently, "They¡¯ll be eager to buy shares once the stock starts trading. The demand won¡¯t disappear¡ªit¡¯ll only grow stronger."


    Richard nodded at this. "The harder something is to get, the more people want it. I guarantee once we¡¯re public, those investors will be lining up with buy orders."


    "Really? You think so?"


    "Have I ever spoken empty words? Trust me¡ªonce we go public, the stock price will easily double. Just wait and see."


    "..."


    Clark¡¯s question held a mix of hope and doubt, but Richard answered with steady confidence.


    "I truly believe it will." Clark smiled, hope flickering in his eyes¡ªthen suddenly, his brow furrowed. "But why do you want to sell all your shares in the IPO?"


    This question puzzled both Jim Clark and Marc Andreessen.


    It was common for early investors to sell part of their shares at this stage to realize some profit¡ªwhether by cashing out or through issuing new stock from the founders¡¯ and investors¡¯ portions. But selling all of one¡¯s shares so soon was unusual, and it raised questions about confidence and long-term commitment.


    Currently, Richard holds about 12 million shares, roughly 40% of the company¡ªa significant stake by any measure.


    Thanks to Richard¡¯s intention to cash out his shares, both Clark and Andreessen didn¡¯t need to sell a significant portion of their own holdings. While they were grateful for that, it also puzzled them.


    "I just want to sell later when the price is at its highest, so don¡¯t worry about it," Richard candidly revealed to both of them, as if it were no big deal.


    There is a reason why Richard wants to sell his Netscape shares as soon as possible.


    The price of Netscape will likely skyrocket right after the IPO, reaching its peak during the initial euphoria. This is when excitement and speculation are at their highest, driving the share price up.


    However, after this peak, the price will continue to rise more gradually¡ªuntil Microsoft finally decides to enter the field and change the market dynamics. That¡¯s why Richard wants to pull out early, to maximize his gains before the landscape shifts.


    Many people might not know this, but the battle of Netscape and Microsoft will begin shortly, and this is not a coincidence.


    Netscape went public, the stock is hot, and the price sharply increases. Soon after this, Microsoft released Internet Explorer. The date? Just a week after Netscape went public.


    Some people might think it is a coincidence, but another eight days after the release of Internet Explorer, Windows 95 was released and it was a huge deal for many people. In fact, when it launched, there were parties at midnight where people lined up at stores around the block. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Along with the introduction of Windows 95, Microsoft released the ¡¯Microsoft Plus!¡¯ for Windows 95 pack, which contained several optional components for high-end multimedia PCs, including Internet Explorer, DriveSpace, and many additional themes.


    Microsoft reportedly spent $300 million on marketing alone for this.


    In the United States, the Empire State Building in New York City was lit to match the colors of the Windows logo. They even unfurled a massive, 100-meter or 330-foot banner down the side of the CN tower in Toronto.


    In the end, their efforts paid off.


    The sales were strong, with one million copies shipped worldwide in just four days.


    In short, everything was planned. So, from the very beginning, Netscape and Microsoft were set to clash¡ªand Richard was positioned to profit from their battle.


    This is why, after cashing out his money from the Netscape IPO, Richard plans to wait until Microsoft launches their product and impacts Netscape¡¯s stock price.


    When the shares hit their lowest point, he plans to swoop back in and buy them up at a bargain for the second round. However, this time, he didn¡¯t acquire the shares as an insider, but through the public stock market¡ªand there¡¯s a reason for that.


    He wanted to redirect the financial ecosystem he had helped build around Netscape¡ªthrough Infoseek, Geocities, and Register.com¡ªtoward Yahoo.


    As everyone knows, being an insider shareholder comes with restrictions: he would be obligated to prioritize Netscape¡¯s interests.


    But if he bought the shares through public trading, the situation would be different. He wouldn¡¯t be bound by those restrictions, meaning he could freely shift the ecosystem between both companies.


    Richard smiled with satisfaction, leaning back comfortably in his seat. He could hardly wait for the scheduled date to arrive.


    ¡¯At least until AOL decides to fully acquire Netscape¡ªonly then will I consider selling all my shares again."


    While Richard was lost in his own thoughts, others completely misunderstood his words.


    For Marina and Karren, they thought he simply wanted to sell when the share price was at its highest¡ªnothing wrong with that. But for Jim Clark and Marc Andreessen, they believed Richard was trying to protect them from AOL¡¯s takeover, so they could still maintain control over Netscape later.


    As expected, Clark¡¯s eyes filled with deep trust, and he grasped Richard¡¯s hands tightly.


    "Meeting you in my toughest times was the greatest luck of my life!"


    "Uh...? O¡ªoh, yeah."


    Richard was taken aback by this.

 Chapter 200: Netscape IPO

    Chapter 200: Netscape IPOAs the five of them continued their conversation in a warm and friendly atmosphere, Marina checked the time on her wristwatch and spoke."In one hour, the stock will be listed. We should start heading inside."


    "Is it already that time?"


    Richard glanced at Clark and Andreessen, who were sitting in front of him, then raised his head toward them.


    "Shall we? We can¡¯t miss this once-in-a-lifetime moment, right?"


    "Y-yeah." Clark, looking tense once again, nodded and stood up to follow him.


    The five of them left Richard¡¯s office and walked straight toward the spacious makeshift trading center prepared especially for today¡¯s occasion.


    Beyond the large glass windows, the deep blue Guadalupe River stretched out below. Inside the trading center, employees sat in front of multiple monitors, busily conducting trades as usual. Most of them were from Netscape¡¯s finance division.


    At first, the trading room had seemed spacious, but as the number of employees steadily increased¡ªnow exceeding forty¡ªit had started to feel crowded.


    Richard turned his gaze toward the large ticker board in front of him.


    Covering an entire wall, the massive board displayed an overwhelming number of stock codes, including the Dow and NASDAQ indices.


    The numbers flickered and changed at a relentless pace, as if they were part of a living, breathing organism. Looking at Clark, who stood beside him with a rigid expression, Richard spoke.


    "Once the stock is listed, a four-letter trading code approved by the NASDAQ committee will appear on that board."


    "Phew." Clark exhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he muttered, "This is nerve-wracking."


    CEO Marc Andreessen, standing nearby, also stared at the massive ticker board with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.


    Although the IPO had been completed despite intense competition, there was still a lingering worry¡ªif the stock price plummeted after listing, their success would only be partial.


    But Richard, already knowing the outcome, stayed composed. He turned to Marina and Karren beside him.


    "Did either of you think the price would hit $100?"


    "..."


    Both stared at Richard like he¡¯d lost his mind.


    "How about a little wager?" Richard grinned after thinking for a moment. "100 pounds?"


    Karren glanced at Marina, who looked right back at her. They both gave a small nod and pulled out ¡ê100 each.


    "Of course. Crisp, new bills¡ªno need to worry," they said in unison.


    Hearing this, Richard gave a satisfied smile.


    Clark tilted his head in confusion at the sudden exchange between the three people behind him.


    He was about to ask what they meant, but before he could, his chief of finance spoke up first.


    "One minute left."


    As the designated time approached, the finance staff put down their phones and stopped typing on their keyboards. Instead, they all turned their attention to the massive ticker board.


    This was clear evidence of the high anticipation and interest surrounding Netscape¡¯s stock listing. Holding their breath, everyone waited.


    Then, precisely at 1:00 PM, Netscape¡¯s stock was officially listed, and the ticker board displayed the trading code: NSCP.


    "It¡¯s up!"


    Even though Richard had known the outcome in advance, he couldn¡¯t help but swallow dryly as the moment finally arrived. A few minutes passed, and a sense of unease gradually spread across the faces of those watching the ticker board.


    "..."


    "What?" he couldn¡¯t help but utter in confusion.


    Although the stock code had appeared, the price remained frozen, refusing to budge.


    [NSCP 28 ¨C 0.00]


    Richard furrowed his brows at the stagnant stock price, while the others¡ªespecially Clark¡ªanxiously shifted their weight from foot to foot.


    "Why is this happening?"


    "I have no idea... What on earth...?"


    Even Marina and Karren, equally tense, stared at him with rigid expressions.


    Since the stock had officially been listed, there should have been some movement¡ªwhether up or down. But seeing it completely frozen was a first for Richard as well. Still, though inwardly perplexed, he remained composed and calmly turned to the chief finance.


    "Contact the NASDAQ committee and find out what¡¯s going on."


    "Understood," he said, just as bewildered, and immediately walked over to a nearby desk to make the call.


    However, just as he reached for the phone, a sudden outburst cut through the tension.


    "Wait¡ªwhat? Are you serious?" shouted the senior engineer, who had been standing near them.


    The entire room froze. Everyone turned, startled by the unexpected outcry.


    "Got it. Thanks," he said, then set down his phone and turned toward the top dogs in front. "Boss, NASDAQ just called. There¡¯s been a system issue¡ªNetscape¡¯s stock trading has been temporarily halted."


    "Issue? What issue? How could they let something like this happen on such an important day?"


    Frustration rippled through the room. Jim Clark and Marc Andreessen, in particular, wore scowls of disbelief.


    A technical failure at the very start of their first day of public trading was nothing short of a nightmare. But oddly enough, Richard¡¯s face wasn¡¯t clouded with concern. Instead, he wore a broad, knowing grin.


    "The system failure was caused by an overwhelming surge in traffic."


    "Huh?"


    "What...?"


    Clark and Andreessen blinked in confusion, unable to immediately grasp the meaning. But Marina¡ªwho was used to handling situations like this from her experience with Roman Abramovich¡ªunderstood instantly.


    "Hold on. Are you saying that so many people rushed to buy our stock that the servers went down?" she couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    "That¡¯s right," Richard replied with a grin.


    Still dazed, Andreessen¡¯s eyes suddenly lit up with realization. He let out a breathless chuckle. "Hah... Haha."


    Beside him, Clark¡¯s face turned red with excitement as he clenched his fists tightly.


    "It seems the demand for Netscape stock is even greater than I anticipated."


    Just as Clark finished speaking, one of the traders suddenly shouted, "The stock price is moving!"


    Everyone quickly turned to look at the large ticker board in front of them.


    Just moments ago, Netscape¡¯s stock had been frozen in place, but now it was soaring like a rocket.


    [NSCP 41.35 ¡ø +13.35](Price jumps from $28.00 to $41.35)


    .


    .


    [NSCP 54.50 ¡ø +13.15](Climbs steadily by about $13 more)


    "It more than doubled in an instant¡ªthis is insane!"


    "Buy orders are flooding in like crazy!"


    "Unbelievable... Is this even real?"


    "No wonder Nasdaq¡¯s servers crashed."


    "At this rate, it¡¯ll break $80 in no time."


    All the staff and employees couldn¡¯t contain their excitement as they watched the stock price skyrocket.


    There had been plenty of stocks that hit the jackpot upon going public, but none had surged more than double the IPO price within minutes like Netscape.


    What made this even more shocking was the widespread skepticism about the company¡¯s valuation.


    Historically, Netscape had zero profits and was actually losing millions of dollars each month. Yet, despite that, the company managed to achieve a historic milestone, reaching a valuation of approximately $2.9 billion during its first IPO.


    Now that Netscape is finally capable of generating revenue, there¡¯s a strong possibility it could surpass even that legendary valuation Richard knows.


    Many people in the media¡ªfrom analysts and financial advisors to trader enthusiasts¡ªhad argued that the initial offering price of $28 per share was already too high, which makes this result all the more astounding.


    Now, let alone $28¡ªthe value of Netscape has far surpassed what everyone predicted!


    [NSCP 68.75 ¡ø +14.25](Momentum picks up with a slightly bigger jump)


    .


    .


    [NSCP 82.30 ¡ø +13.55](Still strong gains as investors pile in)


    $80!


    Even more astonishing was that, despite surpassing $80, the buying frenzy showed no signs of slowing down. Orders were still pouring in at a relentless pace.


    Within less than ten minutes of trading, Netscape¡¯s stock had smashed through the $80 mark.


    [NSCP 96.80 ¡ø +14.50](Price approaches triple the IPO value)


    In the blink of an eye, Netscape¡¯s market capitalization had tripled, exceeding $4.8 billion.


    Jim Clark stood frozen, staring at the ticker board in disbelief as his net worth skyrocketed past $1.5 billion in real time.


    Richard, who owned 40% of Netscape, saw his fortune surge dramatically. He checked his stock price repeatedly, barely able to believe the numbers. Every time the ticker rose, his heart skipped a beat.


    [NSCP 104.05 ¡ø +7.25](The pace slows a bit as profit-taking starts)


    After a deep breath, Richard steadied himself and gently placed his hand on Clark¡¯s and Andreessen¡¯s shoulders.


    "How does it feel to be a billionaire?" Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Clark was speechless, his head spinning as he watched the numbers climb higher with each blink."This isn¡¯t a dream, right?"


    "If you don¡¯t believe it, I can slap you to make sure," Andreessen offered immediately.


    "Would you really?"


    Seeing Clark actually offer up his cheek, Andreessen already had his hand cocked, ready to slap¡ªonly for Clark to quickly back away with wide eyes.


    "Hahaha" Richard laughed heartily as he watched the scene unfold.


    This was just the beginning. Never underestimate human greed. The stock market thrives on hope¡ªand greed. Everyone already wanted this stock badly. Now, after seeing it double and triple in an instant, that hunger only grew fiercer.


    Sure enough, even an hour later, the momentum showed no signs of slowing down. If anything, the excitement only intensified with each passing minute.


    Netscape¡¯s market cap had already surpassed one billion during the IPO, and now¡ªeven as the stock market was about to close¡ªthe stock price had quadrupled since listing.


    There was a brief moment when the upward momentum faltered, but by the end of its first trading day, Netscape¡¯s stock had soared to $104.05 before finally settling at $95.31 per share.


    It was a historic record¡ªthe highest first-day gain in Nasdaq history.


    Unsurprisingly, as soon as the market closed, Bloomberg and every major media outlet ran headline stories about this unprecedented event.


    As a result, investors, who were already buzzing with excitement over Netscape as the most promising company of the internet era, became even more ecstatic. Interest in the stock exploded overnight.


    The frenzy continued into the next day. By the second day of trading, Netscape easily surpassed the $100 mark per share.


    It was a mad surge, yet instead of fearing a crash, investors became even more aggressive in their buying.


    This was the starting gun¡ªthe moment that launched the dot-com bubble, a frenzied market craze that would grip the late 1990s, not just in the United States but across the entire world.

 Chapter 201: Instant Billionaire

    Chapter 201: Instant BillionaireAs February arrived, Richard received some bad news.


    City was out of the FA Cup!


    They had lost to Shrewsbury in a tense penalty shootout.


    When Richard heard the report from Miss Heysen, he sighed deeply. But he refused to dwell on the disappointment¡ªafter all, in football, there are always wins and losses.


    "Is there any other news I should know about?" he asked.


    "Yes," Miss Heysen replied. "Currently, we¡¯re still near the top of the league table. And in the League Cup, we¡¯ll be facing Arsenal in the fourth round."


    Arsenal!


    Finally, this was the heavyweight they would face.


    Miss Heysen went on, "But Richard, there¡¯s some buzz that their manager isn¡¯t seeing eye to eye with their vice-chairman, David Dein."


    Richard raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why¡¯s that?"


    "Well, from what I¡¯ve heard, it¡¯s all about transfer money. Bruce Rioch feels Arsenal doesn¡¯t really trust him because they slashed half of his transfer budget. He¡¯s accusing the club of playing favorites since they never cut funding back when George Graham was in charge."


    George Graham was dismissed in February 1995 for bringing the club into disrepute over transfer misconduct. He was found guilty of financial impropriety in a league investigation, leaving the board with no choice but to terminate his contract.


    After that, Stewart Houston stepped in as caretaker and actually breathed new life into the team, even taking Arsenal to the 1995 UEFA Cup Winners¡¯ Cup Final. But then the board brought in Bruce Rioch and gave Houston the boot.


    "That¡¯s good. Their cracks only make things better for City," Richard said before asking Miss Heysen to brief him on City¡¯s position in the league.


    1?? Manchester City ¨C 66 pts | GD: +49


    2?? Sunderland ¨C 64 pts | GD: +33


    3?? West Brom ¨C 54 pts | GD: +31


    4?? Derby County ¨C 51 pts. | GD: +25


    5?? Ipswich Town ¨C 49 pts. | GD: +24


    "What about O¡¯Neill? Is he still mentioning Clough?"


    The striker O¡¯Neill requested but Richard rejected¡ªNigel Clough.


    "He hasn¡¯t said anything more about it. However, now that you bring it up, we have an offer for Keith Curle from Wolverhampton Wanderers for ¡ê650,000. Curle has also signaled his desire to leave since he¡¯s unhappy about O¡¯Neill stripping him of the captaincy."


    Richard frowned.


    "Please give me a rundown of the current City squad."


    Miss Heysen began listing the players one by one, but Richard¡¯s focus stayed on the defenders: Rio Ferdinand, Richard Jobson, Keith Curle, Gianluca Zambrotta, and Steve Finnan.


    With Curle wanting to leave, City¡¯s defense is seriously weakened.


    "Did O¡¯Neill say anything about it?"


    "For now, no. He¡¯s still trying to convince Curle to stay."


    Richard shook his head. "It¡¯s no use. As long as he can¡¯t replace either Ferdinand or Gallas, there¡¯s no chance. Unless one of them gets injured¡ªand even then, with Materazzi around¡ªit¡¯ll be tough."


    He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.


    "Miss Heysen, please check my office. In the drawer marked ¡¯France,¡¯ you¡¯ll find my scout reports. Look for players from AS Monaco named Thierry Henry and Lilian Thuram. Pass the reports to O¡¯Neill. If he approves, place a bid immediately. I¡¯ll send Marina to Monaco later to handle negotiations."


    Who would be better to replace Ole Gunnar Solskj?r and Keith Curle?


    Of course, Thierry Henry.


    Instead of letting him struggle at Juventus before eventually joining Arsenal, why not have City steal him first? He would be perfect to complete our attacking lineup.


    As for Lilian Thuram, there¡¯s no reason not to recruit such a solid defender. With Gallas, Ferdinand, and Materazzi already on the squad, Richard believed that City¡¯s backline would be nearly unbeatable once Thuram joined.


    "How much money do you want to allocate for them?"


    Richard thought for a moment. "Let¡¯s start with 12 million."


    "Six million each?"


    "That depends. If you can negotiate the price down, then get it as low as possible."


    "Understood."


    After hanging up the phone, Richard slumped into his chair.


    He picked up the fresh newspaper he had just bought that morning and began scanning through it.


    [...Netscape: The Gateway Between the Internet and Reality ¨C Young Founders Strike Gold!...]


    [...Netscape Soars Past $100 Per Share ¨C An Unstoppable Rally!...]


    [...The Pioneer of the Internet Revolution ¨C Netscape Becomes a Beacon of Hope for Silicon Valley¡¯s Young Entrepreneurs!...]


    [...IPO Jackpot! Netscape Rides the Internet Boom with Relentless Momentum!...]


    Like the saying, "Woke up a star overnight," Netscape had skyrocketed over 370% in just three trading days. It wasn¡¯t just Nasdaq¡¯s new rising star¡ªit had become the sensation of the global stock market.


    Although its stock price began hovering after surpassing $104 per share, even if it didn¡¯t climb further, this was already an unprecedented surge.


    Investors lucky enough to secure IPO shares¡ªor those who bought in on the first day¡ªhit the jackpot of a lifetime, making an absolute fortune.


    Done with the newspaper, Richard picked up the remote and turned on the PDP television mounted on the wall.


    The screen lit up, displaying CNBC, America¡¯s premier financial news channel.


    At the center of the screen, a blonde female anchor was leading a heated discussion with two market experts. The hot topic? Would Netscape¡¯s stock continue its meteoric rise, or was a crash inevitable?


    [A 370% surge in just three days? This is an obvious bubble!]


    [Why is it a bubble? Considering the limitless potential of the internet, Netscape¡¯s growth is only just beginning!]


    The young analyst¡¯s rebuttal made the seasoned market expert, a neatly groomed man with slicked-back hair, frown.


    With an exasperated scoff, he raised his voice:


    [Netscape has been around for barely two years. Its total revenue is under $20 million, and its net profit? Zero. ZERO!]


    He snorted and shook his head.


    [No matter how promising the internet seems, does it make sense for a company like this to have a $6 billion market cap and a stock price over $100?]


    [Why not? Stock prices reflect both present value and future growth potential. IT companies, born from the digital revolution, shouldn¡¯t be judged by outdated, conservative metrics!]


    The young analyst¡¯s bold counterargument made the older expert¡¯s eyebrows shoot up.


    [Encouraging reckless speculation without proper valuation is utterly irresponsible!]


    [Mr. Solan, perhaps you¡¯re just too old to keep up with this rapidly changing era. Maybe it¡¯s time for you to retire.]


    [What did you just say?!]


    The furious market expert turned red with anger, veins popping in his neck as he shouted.


    Sensing the heated tension, the female anchor quickly intervened.


    [Gentlemen, I think you¡¯re both getting a little too excited. Let¡¯s take a quick break, and we¡¯ll return after these messages.]


    With that, the screen faded to commercials, and Richard turned off the television.


    The more Netscape was mentioned in the media, the higher its brand recognition soared, drawing even greater attention from investors.


    "That growing attention and hope will push the stock price even higher."


    With this, his episode with Netscape was almost done.


    Tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table, he called Marina Granovskaia and Karren Brady into his temporary office.


    "Karren, when will you be heading back to France? And what about the players I asked you to sign¡ªany updates?"


    "Just like you instructed," Karren began. "Bordeaux managed to sign Claude Mak¨¦l¨¦l¨¦ for ¡ê5 million and Reynald Pedros for ¡ê1 million from Nantes. After that, Patrick Vieira completed his medical, and we¡¯re set to sign him too¡ªfor ¡ê2 million." She paused, then let out a small cough. "If you have any more players in mind, I¡¯ll need additional support. The budget you gave me is already gone."


    Four million pounds Richard had spent to support Karren Brady¡¯s mission in France.


    Was it worth it? Absolutely.


    In fact, whether it was Zidane, Vieira, or Mak¨¦l¨¦l¨¦, Richard believed their value could easily reach ¡ê50 million if he ever chose to sell them in the future.


    Not to mention, to secure Karren a seat as Bordeaux¡¯s CEO, his City Football Group had already acquired a 10% stake¡ªserving as a convenient justification for the financial backing. So, if Bordeaux becomes successful one day, just selling that stake alone could probably make all his investment break even.


    "If I give you another four million, can you expand Bordeaux¡¯s scouting network in Africa?" Richard asked after a moment¡¯s thought. "For now, focus on Central Africa¡ªcountries like Cameroon and the DR Congo¡ª" he then stopped.


    After a moment of consideration, Richard added, "Also, let Bordeaux set up a scouting network in Asia, focusing especially on South and Central Asia¡ªcountries like India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Uzbekistan, and Kazakhstan."


    Karren looked at him, slightly taken aback. "Are you thinking of recruiting players from there?"


    It was a surprising directive¡ªafter all, it was rare, if not unheard of, for Asian players to break into Europe¡¯s top leagues at that time.


    Richard simply shrugged. "If there¡¯s talent that fits, why not? But it¡¯s not just about players. This is also about testing the waters¡ªseeing what kind of fan interest and market preference football has in Asia. If we¡¯re thinking long-term, we need to understand those regions."


    Especially in countries with large populations, Richard was eager to tap into vast markets and passionate football fanbases. These regions held the potential to unlock millions of new supporters, creating opportunities not only for merchandising and sponsorships but also for grassroots development.


    But as the saying goes, for now, Bordeaux would serve as the pilot project. Once their report comes in, City could make a more informed and confident move into those regions, potentially building a loyal following that goes beyond traditional football strongholds, and laying the foundation for a long-term presence with shared benefits.


    There¡¯s no way Richard would give Karren money for free¡ªthis is still an investment, after all. So, while City¡¯s scouting department isn¡¯t fully operational yet, why not use other resources to test the waters first?


    Though a little confused, Karren decided not to ask too many questions. Another millions¡ªwho wouldn¡¯t be tempted by that kind of money? So, she obediently followed Richard¡¯s instructions.


    For Richard, it was a small price to pay for long-term influence¡ªnot just over the club, but over the world football market as a whole.


    "Then when will you be heading back to France to start your new role, Miss CEO?"


    "Are you done here with your business?"


    For Karren, this was the first time she had ever been so closely involved in a stock operation¡ªlet alone one of this scale. Being part of the Netscape IPO had opened her eyes wide.


    $2.4 billion.


    Her boss had just made $2.4 billion from a single investment!


    As she stared at the rows of zeroes on the financial reports, she nearly passed out. It was terrifying... but also exhilarating. The kind of rush that made the world of football transfers feel almost tame by comparison.


    Hearing her question, Richard¡¯s mouth twitched.


    If he said "no," she¡¯d probably still tag along anyway.


    "Yes, I¡¯m done. I¡¯ll head back to Manchester soon and watch City face Arsenal."


    "Oh..." she responded, pausing for a moment in thought before continuing, "Then I¡¯ll go ahead and book my ticket first."


    Richard let out a long sigh, then turned toward Marina. However, just then, there was a knock at the door, followed by Jim Clark stepping inside.


    "Are you busy? Did I disturb you?"


    Seeing Richard was in discussion, Clark hesitated, thinking he might be interrupting something.


    "No, no¡ªJim, please, come in," Richard said, setting aside his conversation with Marina to focus on Jim Clark.


    "Have you been watching the news?" Clark asked, getting straight to the point as he took a seat.


    "I have. And it just means we¡¯re the center of attention. That¡¯s a good thing, isn¡¯t it?"


    "It is, but..."


    "What¡¯s wrong?"


    Clark hesitated, studying Richard¡¯s expression before continuing. "To be honest, I¡¯m a little concerned."


    "What do you mean?" Richard leaned back casually into the sofa, his eyes curious.


    Choosing his words carefully, Clark continued, "As you said, Netscape is practically dominating the web browser market, and the future looks bright. But..."


    "But what?" sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "If the stock price rises too quickly and aggressively, at some point, profit-taking is inevitable. And if that triggers a sudden collapse... the aftermath could be brutal."


    He paused for a moment before adding, "Investors who got IPO shares¡ªor who bought in on the first day¡ªhave already made huge profits. They¡¯re beginning to sell off to lock in those gains. This sell-off started yesterday and has continued into today."


    The once unstoppable rally had started to slow. Netscape¡¯s stock was now hovering around $104, moving sideways under the pressure of profit-taking, just as Clark had pointed out.


    If the stock were to suddenly crash, it would deal a major blow¡ªespecially to Richard, who hadn¡¯t sold a single share yet.


    Of course, even in the worst-case scenario, it was unlikely the stock would fall below the IPO price. Technically, no one would suffer a real loss. Still, after watching it soar past $104, any drop would feel like a missed opportunity¡ªalmost like losing money.


    And for someone like Richard, who held a 40% stake in the company, even a $1 drop would translate into a massive paper loss. It wasn¡¯t something that could be easily ignored.


    But unlike Clark, who clearly showed signs of worry, Richard looked completely unbothered.


    "If someone bought at the opening price on day one, they¡¯ve already more than doubled their investment. It¡¯s only natural they¡¯d want to take profits."


    "That¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m bringing this up," Clark said cautiously. "Since your shares aren¡¯t subject to any lock-up restrictions, maybe now¡¯s the right time to sell a portion of them."


    A lock-up period¡ªalso known as a protective escrow¡ªis a restriction placed on major shareholders during an IPO, preventing them from immediately selling large portions of stock. This prevents a market crash that could hurt smaller investors.


    Richard, as the second-largest shareholder after Clark, wasn¡¯t bound by any such restrictions. He could sell his shares on the open market at any time.


    "Are you suggesting I cash out quickly?"


    "Yes. Of course, not all of it¡ªjust around 10% of your holdings¡ªno, no¡ª" Clark shook his head, quickly correcting himself. "What I mean is, could you sell them gradually? Not all at once, so it wouldn¡¯t shock the market too much."


    Only then did Richard fully understand what Clark was getting at.


    Indeed, if he dumped all 40% of his stake onto the market at once, it would flooded the market, overwhelm the system and possibly trigger panic.


    Even just 10% of his stake, at the current market price, was worth over $240 million¡ªmore than enough to not only recover his initial $2 million investment but also leave him with a massive profit.


    "Hmm..." Richard eyed Clark carefully before asking, "Someone contacted you, didn¡¯t they?"


    Clark gave Richard a wry smile. "Yes. It was AOL."


    AOL again?


    Richard¡¯s eyes lit up with interest.


    "...Understood. For now, I¡¯ll sell only 20% of my holdings."


    With his conversation with Clark finally over, Richard turned his attention to Marina. Now it was time for the iron lady to prove her worth.


    "Marina, I need you to head to Monaco immediately."

 Chapter 202: Looking for a New Site for the Stadium

    Chapter 202: Looking for a New Site for the StadiumRichard had already flown back to Manchester once the Netscape affair was wrapped up. He entrusted the remaining matters¡ªspecifically the sale of his shares to AOL, which he had considered ever since hearing about AOL¡¯s contact with Jim Clark¡ªto Taylor Smith of Barclays.


    "I know. Don¡¯t worry about it," Taylor Smith said confidently after Richard briefed him on the plan upon arriving in Manchester.


    With the Adidas deal now 90% finalized¡ªawaiting only approval from the European Commission¡¯s antitrust division¡ªhe was set to officially take on the role of Maddox Capital¡¯s representative for the Netscape deal.


    With that, Richard returned to Manchester at ease. Now with a new title to his name:


    A true billionaire!


    On the morning of the FA Cup fourth-round match against Arsenal, Richard got dressed and headed downstairs to join his parents for breakfast. They had traveled all the way to Manchester to see him¡ªreuniting after several months apart since his return home.


    Looking at the crowded space and seeing how his parents had to share it with so many others, Richard fell silent.


    It seemed like it was finally time to buy a house in Manchester.


    Perhaps it was because he had been away from home so often over the past few months that his father, Bryan, and his mother, Anna, were especially happy to share meals with him. The atmosphere was warm and cheerful. However, everything changed when Bryan opened the newspaper. His expression darkened.


    Richard had just sat down at the table in front of his parents, so he noticed it immediately and was taken aback. Bryan, looking tense and visibly angry, slammed the newspaper onto the table.


    Breathing heavily, he exclaimed, "The Sun, that trash! They can¡¯t even clean up their own mess, yet they have the audacity to drag others down! Publishing garbage like this¡ªdisgusting! Damn it, Ross, cancel our subscription to The Sun starting today!"


    Ross worked for Maddox Entertainment under Harry, Richard¡¯s brother and had been assigned to assist Bryan and Anna at their home. In his thirties, he was a reliable man who handled travel and expenses for the family, essentially serving as a personal manager. Without fail, he showed up at their apartment by 7AM every day.


    Bryan turned to Richard, still fuming. "Son, teach them a lesson in today¡¯s match, especially that Arsenal. They think a few trophies make them special. Hmph! Even the Manchester City of a few years ago played better football than they do! That ungrateful bastard!"


    Richard smiled and nodded, picking up The Sun from the table.


    In the paper, there was a picture of Bruce Rioch, the current Arsenal manager, and Martin O¡¯Neill.


    Arsenal:


    Goalkeeper: David Seaman


    Defenders: Lee Dixon, Tony Adams, Andy Linighan, Nigel Winterburn


    Midfielders: Martin Keown, Paul Merson, Raymond Parlour, Glenn Helder


    Forwards: Ian Wright, John Hartson


    Manchester City:


    Goalkeeper: Jens Lehmann


    Defenders: Cafu, William Gallas, Rio Ferdinand, Roberto Carlos


    Midfielders: Mark Van Bommel, Theodoros Zagorakis, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara


    Forwards: Ronaldo, Henrik Larsson


    Speculating on the starting lineups was one of the media¡¯s favorite pastimes. The Sun had penned a piece previewing the match, boldly predicting that City would field their strongest squad against Arsenal, citing their recent FA cup exit. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡¯Hmmm, Bergkamp isn¡¯t playing either,¡¯ Richard rubbed his chin.


    Compared to the rising Newcastle, Arsenal is in decline. The once-glorious Arsenal from last season is now a shadow of its former self.


    Well, the blame falls on them. The first move that sparked Arsenal¡¯s downfall was letting Andy Cole go for just five hundred thousand pounds.


    Now, four years later, he¡¯s joined Manchester United for six million¡ªproving just how wrong Arsenal was to let him slip away.


    This season in the Premier League, Arsenal wasn¡¯t just failing to compete for the title¡ªthey couldn¡¯t even hold their heads up in London.


    Richard shook his head. The rise and fall of this team was a textbook case of managerial responsibility.


    While former Arsenal manager George Graham was criticized for his mismanagement and conservative tactics that stifled the players¡¯ talents and ambitions, Bruce Rioch has taken a very different approach. He¡¯s shifted away from long-ball play toward a more fluid, midfield-driven game. However, from Richard¡¯s perspective, Rioch may be overdoing it¡ªexperimenting too much, such as deploying Keown in midfield and benching Bergkamp.


    After Rioch, Ars¨¨ne Wenger arrived and built a new generation of Gunners. Many of the players on the pitch suddenly returned to their peak form, which only highlighted the previous coach¡¯s lack of competence.


    Richard then rose from his seat, ready to head to Marine Road with his parents when¡ª


    RING~


    Before he could say anything, his phone rang.


    When he saw the number, he was surprised¡ªit was Miss Heysen. Although unexpected, he picked up immediately.


    "Oh, thank God you finally picked up!"


    Taken aback, Richard immediately responded, "What happened?"


    "Manchester City Council has already agreed to our plan to purchase the land from Ancoats to Bradford!"


    "..."


    Richard was in a daze before he finally realized what had happened.


    Plans to build a stadium in East Manchester were originally made around 1990, during Peter Swales¡¯ era, as part of the city¡¯s bid to host the 2000 Summer Olympics.


    Manchester City Council funded the design of an 80,000-seat stadium on a brownfield site known as Eastlands. However, in October 1993, the Games were awarded to Sydney, Australia.


    Refusing to give up, the council later submitted a successful bid to host the 2002 Commonwealth Games during the Lee Consortium era, following Peter Swales, using the stadium plans from the original Olympic proposal.


    Around that time, Manchester City Council also entered into competition with Wembley Stadium for national stadium funding. Two years later, Richard¡ªwho had by then replaced the Lee Consortium¡ªdecided to withdraw from the bid due to Manchester City¡¯s financial troubles.


    As a result, Manchester lost its opportunity, and the funding was ultimately used to redevelop Wembley Stadium instead.


    This sudden withdrawal left Manchester City Council dissatisfied with Richard, while he gained favor with the London Council instead.


    That goodwill would later prove invaluable though. It was a key reason why he successfully secured the iconic Grade I listed St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel and the Biltmore Mayfair Hotel.


    What no one anticipated however, was that shortly after pulling out of the Commonwealth Games, Richard would return with a bold new plan: a solo bid to redevelop the North Eastlands area of Manchester¡ªon his own terms.


    "What¡¯s wrong, Richard?" Seeing Richard pause suddenly, Anna couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    "If you have something more important to attend to, then you¡¯d better go. Don¡¯t worry about us. Your mom and I can take care of ourselves," Bryan added.


    They both already knew what their youngest son had been doing back in the United States. And though they wished they could keep both their sons close, they understood¡ªlife had its own demands, and everyone had their own path to follow.


    "Besides," his father added with a reassuring smile, "Joanne mentioned she and Jessica would be coming to the stadium. We can adjust the schedule and pick them up ourselves. So really, don¡¯t worry."


    "Is that so?" Richard thought for a moment before nodding in agreement with his parents¡¯ suggestion.


    After parting ways with his parents, Richard immediately boarded the car that Miss Heysen had prepared to pick him up.


    "How¡¯s the situation there?" Richard asked immediately as he got into the car.


    Inside, Miss Heysen wasted no time. She gave him a quick briefing, then handed over the map she had prepared in advance.


    In Europe and the United States, countless organizations¡ªwhether focused on animal rights, environmental protection, trade unions, or other causes¡ªare known for fiercely defending the interests of people or communities. But is that really the full story?


    In reality, rather than fighting for broader causes, these groups often prioritize the interests of their own members, especially those at the core.


    Take the trade unions¡¯ anti-poll tax movement in the early 1990s, for example. Do you think they organized strikes all day solely for the benefit of all workers or the general public?


    No.


    While negotiations sometimes secured small benefits, these gains were often minimal or largely symbolic. The real advantage frequently went to the core members¡ªthose holding key positions within the unions¡ªnot just ordinary workers.


    If you view these groups as "associations" that maintain control over certain industries by regulating membership and access, it becomes easier to understand how they operate.


    This is similar to what Richard did with the Greater Manchester Council. They only saw potential benefits for themselves, so when Richard withdrew from the project, they felt their money had slipped out of their grasp. But what happened after Richard made a billion-pound bid to develop the derelict land stretching from Ancoats to Bradford?


    That was entirely a whole district.


    Heck, they could even create an entire town there from scratch!


    You can imagine it like this: Manchester City¡¯s future Etihad Training Complex will be an 80-acre site. It will house 17 football pitches, including the 7,000-seat Academy Stadium, and over 450 players will train there each week. The complex will also include education rooms, medical and fitness centers, and the club¡¯s offices.


    All of these facilities¡ªincluding the land and construction¡ªwere part of Sheikh Mansour¡¯s ¡ê1 billion redevelopment.


    Now, just think: what if Richard used that same billion pounds solely to purchase land?


    Not just 80 acres, but ten times that size¡ª800 acres or 323.75 hectares.


    The estimated land size from Ancoats to Bradford in Manchester covers approximately 2 square miles, which is equivalent to 1,280 acres or 520 hectares.


    So, 800 acres?


    Yeah, you could say Richard would practically be the mini-boss there.


    This is why Richard had never bought a house or any property in Manchester until now¡ªhe wanted to save money. Now that the Netscape deal is finalized, and with the internet era just beginning, he expects his other investments also to reach at least hundreds of millions.


    Money is no longer a problem!


    Richard skimmed through the map and detailed data Miss Heysen had provided.


    Stretching northeast from Manchester city centre, the corridor between Ancoats and Bradford is largely an industrial zone. Most of the land is derelict, with only a few small residential neighborhoods and commercial areas scattered throughout.


    In the center of the map, there is a circled area that will become the stadium¡ªthe centerpiece of Richard¡¯s entire vision. It will be his biggest and most expensive investment, surpassing all his investments so far.


    "Are there no restrictions from the council? Like, can we buy whichever parcels of land we want, depending on the exact boundaries?"


    "No," Miss Heysen replied. "They have already triggered the compulsory purchase order since that area has been taken over by the council for urban renewal. What they need now is the funding, and coincidentally, we have offered to provide it."


    A Compulsory Purchase Order (CPO) is a legal tool used by the government to acquire land or property without the owner¡¯s consent. This is typically done to enable development projects or infrastructure improvements such as roads, railways, hospitals, or stadiums.


    Richard was taken aback. "Why? Why would they allow that?"


    Normally, city councils don¡¯t allow unrestricted land purchases¡ªespecially large-scale ones. They enforce strict zoning laws to regulate how land is used, whether for residential, commercial, industrial, or public purposes because It may lead to gentrification, displacing existing communities, and driving up property prices to unaffordable levels.


    So why would they allow someone to buy freely?


    Richard frowned at this. He was afraid something wasn¡¯t right¡ªlike there was something developing beneath the surface.


    When he asked Miss Heysen about it, she fell silent for a moment before locking eyes with Richard.


    "You¡¯ll understand when you get there."

 Chapter 203 - 800 Acres of Pure Shithole

    Chapter 203: 800 Acres of Pure ShitholeThe drive from Maine Road to Ancoats in Manchester took approximately 15 to 20 minutes, depending on traffic. The fastest route usually followed major roads like Princess Road, Mancunian Way, and then Great Ancoats Street.


    "Miss Heysen, please turn on the radio for me," Richard said.


    "Arsenal?" she asked, glancing at him.


    Richard nodded. He wanted to catch the match update. Judging by the time on his watch, the game had probably been underway for about 40 minutes now.


    The radio crackled to life, and the announcer¡¯s voice filled the car.


    "Arsenal¡¯s tactics now resemble a shaky building on the verge of collapse, while Manchester City is pressing them relentlessly. From a tactical standpoint, there¡¯s every reason to be optimistic about Manchester City in this match. Arsenal is falling apart far too quickly¡ªjust like in the Premier League, where they¡¯ve scored fewer goals while conceding nearly twice as many."


    Just from the commentator¡¯s tone, Richard could already picture how the match was unfolding.


    At Maine Road, as the second half progressed, Arsenal began to push their entire lineup forward. They had no choice¡ªtheir attacking combinations were limited, relying heavily on individual brilliance to break through Manchester City¡¯s compact and disciplined defense.


    But with their formation pressing higher, the gaps in Arsenal¡¯s backfield widened dangerously.


    After intercepting a pass from Martin Keown, Lennon quickly laid it off five meters to Cafu, who turned and launched a deep, curling ball from his own half toward Arsenal¡¯s territory.


    Larsson had already anticipated the pass and was sprinting from the halfway line, surging past Nigel Winterburn and breaking through the defense into a potential one-on-one.


    The not-so-slow Tony Adams began tracking back immediately. As the ball bounced once, Larsson calmly brought it under control and passed it square to Ronaldo.


    At that moment, Adams was just a meter behind.


    Ronaldo, slowing slightly to receive the pass, used his body to shield the ball. He made a sharp stop, nudging it forward. The sudden change in rhythm threw Adams off.


    With a fluid motion, Ronaldo pulled back briefly, then surged forward again, creating a clear path to the goal. But just as he was about to take his next step¡ª


    WHAM.


    A heavy challenge from behind sent him crashing to the ground.


    "How embarrassing! Tony Adams just brought Ronaldo down from behind! There¡¯s no doubt¡ªthat¡¯s a foul! Oh, wait¡ªthis could be serious, Ronaldo¡¯s clutching his leg!"


    In the car, Richard froze.


    ¡¯FUCK.¡¯


    Back at Maine Road, O¡¯Neill, standing furiously at the touchline, raised his hand and stormed toward the fourth official.


    "Stop the match! That¡¯s a clear foul¡ªstop the match!!"


    The referee didn¡¯t hesitate. He blew the whistle, jogged straight over to Tony Adams¡ªwho was still catching his breath¡ªand pulled out a glaring red card.


    If Adams hadn¡¯t committed that foul, Ronaldo would¡¯ve had a clean one-on-one with the keeper. The tackle was reckless, even malicious.


    The Maine Road crowd erupted, booing Adams relentlessly and cheering the referee¡¯s decision.


    Without a word or protest, Adams turned and walked off the pitch with a stone-cold expression. He didn¡¯t even bother passing the captain¡¯s armband.


    On the sideline, Arsenal manager Bruce Rioch shouted after him, furious. "What the hell were you thinking?"


    Adams turned his head, expression grim, and muttered: "Shut up."


    Then he disappeared down the tunnel without another glance.


    "Oh! It seems there¡¯s some serious tension on the Arsenal bench!" the radio commentator exclaimed. "Captain Tony Adams and manager Bruce Rioch having words after that red card... This is not a good look for Arsenal!"


    But that wasn¡¯t what was on Richard¡¯s mind. His hands tightened into fists as he stared out the car window, jaw clenched.


    Ronaldo was clutching his leg. That¡¯s what the commentator said. And that¡¯s what terrified him the most.


    The commentator¡¯s voice came through the radio again, sharp with excitement.


    "It looks like Roberto Carlos is stepping up to take the free kick. We¡¯ve seen him score from tighter angles and longer distances... this one, just outside the box, slightly to the left¡ªperfect for a left-footer like him."


    Miss Heysen glanced at Richard through the rearview mirror. He hadn¡¯t moved. His eyes were locked on the radio dial, as if he could see the pitch through it.


    Back at the stadium, the whistle blew.


    Carlos took a few calculated steps back, stared at the wall, then the ball¡ªand in a flash, ran forward.


    BOOM.


    The shot was a cannon. The ball curled viciously over the wall with Carlos¡¯s signature spin, bending mid-air like a guided missile. The Arsenal keeper dove, full stretch.


    Too late.


    GOAL!!!


    The ball smacked into the top corner of the net, the crowd erupting into a roar so loud that even in the car, Richard could hear it faintly in the distance.


    "WHAT A STRIKE!!! Roberto Carlos with an absolute thunderbolt! That¡¯s 2-0 to Manchester City! Maine Road is shaking!"


    Richard exhaled, finally.


    2¨C0¡ªwhich meant City¡¯s spot in the League Cup quarterfinal was all but guaranteed.


    The team was firing on all cylinders. But the worry about Ronaldo was still there, lingering at the back of his mind.


    "Please turn off the radio for me," Richard said quietly.


    With the outcome now certain, there was no point in hearing more about the match. Better to shift his focus¡ªanything to keep his mind from spiraling back to thoughts of Ronaldo.


    Miss Heysen gave a small nod and reached forward, the commentary cutting off with a soft click, leaving only the hum of the road and the weight of silence between them.


    Thankfully, it wasn¡¯t long before Miss Heysen¡¯s voice cut through the silence.


    "We¡¯re here."


    Hearing that, Richard¡¯s eyes snapped open. He hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d even closed them. The tension still lingered in his chest, but her voice grounded him, pulling him back from the spiral of thoughts he¡¯d been trapped in. He straightened up in his seat and looked out the window.


    "...Ahm... Miss Heysen?"


    "Yes?"


    "Are you sure this is the right place?"


    She glanced at him, unfazed. "Yes, this is it."


    "..."


    Richard fell silent as he stepped out of the car, his shoes crunching over a mix of broken glass and wet mud.


    Abandoned warehouses with shattered windows and walls stained by years of grime loomed nearby. Rusted fences enclosed the lot, where muddy, waterlogged ground mixed with broken glass and debris had overtaken the contaminated soil.


    Everything was ruined beyond recognition.


    "Woof! Woof!"


    A few stray shopping carts sat like forgotten relics, and in the distance, a dog barked from behind a makeshift gate.


    Now it made sense¡ªno wonder the Greater Manchester Council had allowed him to buy the land directly and without restrictions. They had even fast-tracked the sale to push things forward.


    No zoning pushback. No long debates in council chambers. No competing bids. They wanted this place off their hands¡ªfast.


    They probably figured that anything built here would be better than what stood now.


    This wasn¡¯t just derelict land. This place was a pure shithole¡ªrotten, and you could even feel the chemicals in the air.


    "Is this the place where Peter Swales wanted to build the stadium for the Summer Olympics?" Richard asked.


    "No, this is the site Francis Lee chose to build for the Commonwealth Games. See over there?" Miss Heysen pointed in one direction.


    "That wasn¡¯t just any building¡ªthat was the Bradford Colliery coal mine. That place is going to be the center where they plan to build the stadium."


    Richard stayed silent for a moment, staring at the abandoned coal mine. Then he finally spoke, "But the air here is bad, don¡¯t you think? If we build the stadium here, I¡¯m worried it could cause problems, right?"


    Miss Heysen shook her head. "When Francis Lee had the same concerns, the Arup Group already guaranteed that within two years, the air quality would return to normal. The stadium, scheduled to be ready next year, will be free from polluted air."


    "Is it just an assumption, or is it based on solid research?"


    "It¡¯s based on soil remediation reports conducted by the Arup Group. They tested the air, soil, and groundwater multiple times and developed a detailed cleanup plan."


    Richard shut his mouth after hearing that.


    Afterward, he, Miss Heysen, and the driver¡ªwho also acted as a bodyguard¡ªbegan to tour the area.


    The first site Richard currently visit is Bradford Colliery, which will serve as the central point of the entire 800-acre development. Coincidentally, it¡¯s also one of the most heavily industrialized areas within the site.


    Richard referred to this location as a "brownfield" because, as far as the eye could see, everything around him was just brown¡ªfrom the soil and structures to the decay.


    "Do we have the tax breaks for the infrastructure?"


    As far as he remembered, for every private stadium development, the government offers tax reductions to incentivize investment.


    Here¡¯s how it works: Clubs may receive property tax breaks or other relief to offset construction and operating costs, especially if they commit to community involvement or job creation.


    The council also wins in this solution, as they can redirect their funds elsewhere since Richard will develop this land solo, which helps achieve public economic goals. As long as the local area benefits from improved infrastructure, they will agree to it.


    "Yes, and since we already support the project by investing in surrounding infrastructure, they also grant us relief to offset construction and operating costs for the surrounding infrastructure (e.g., roads, public transport, utilities)."


    "Really?" Hearing this, Richard was happy.


    It meant he could design the accessibility to the club area and prioritize the stadium better.


    "Yes, that¡¯s right," Miss Heysen said before he suddenly hesitated. "But Richard..." S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Hmmm?"


    "Are you sure you want to develop this land entirely on your own? Don¡¯t you think it might be wiser to ask the Manchester Council for financial support?"


    The earlier discussion about the stadium¡ªwhether during Swales¡¯ or Lee¡¯s era¡ªinvolved Sport England, which contributed between ¡ê77 million and ¡ê112 million toward its development, most of it through public funding. Ultimately though, the stadium would be owned by Manchester City Council, which would then lease it out.


    As far as Richard knew, the lease term was set at 250 years with Lease agreements previously. If it were another businessman, they might see this as a bargain.


    But for Richard, it wasn¡¯t.


    First, with a lease, the council could demand a share of the revenue or impose caps. Richard wanted 100% of the income generated by the stadium and the surrounding area to go directly to the club.


    Essentially, what he wanted for the 800-acre land was autonomy¡ªthe ability to make all decisions without requiring council approval. Whether it involved renovation, rebuilding, expansion, or commercial use, he wanted full control.


    Second, ownership would also enhance the club¡¯s valuation, borrowing capacity, and appeal to investors. In the future, the stadium could even be used as collateral to raise capital.


    Third, and most importantly, Richard prioritized long-term security. Under a leasehold arrangement, there is always legal and operational uncertainty. He couldn¡¯t predict whether, in the future, the terms would be renegotiated, restricted, or politicized.


    So, full ownership, to him, meant permanent control¡ªa safeguard for the club¡¯s future leadership.


    "Then..."


    "?"


    Richard waited for Miss Heysen to finish her question.


    "Don¡¯t you think 800 acres is too large for a stadium?"


    Not just 800 acres¡ª even 30 acres is rare for a football club. But Richard doesn¡¯t want to build just a stadium of that size. What exactly is he planning?


    Hearing this, Richard smiled and looked up at the sky.


    "Miss Heysen, have you ever heard the phrase ¡¯a city within a city¡¯?"

 Chapter 204: Reinforcements are Coming in

    Chapter 204: Reinforcements are Coming inAfter finishing the inspection at Bradford Colliery, Richard, accompanied by Miss Eysen, proceeded directly to the next site inspection¡ªthis time in Ancoats, Manchester.


    The area had suffered accelerating economic decline since the 1930s and experienced significant depopulation after the Second World War, particularly during the slum clearances of the 1960s.


    Although Ancoats began to receive recognition in the 1990s for its proximity to the city centre, it remained largely neglected, with little real investment or substantial regeneration.


    Now, Richard arrives with a new vision¡ªbringing his version of Urban Splash to the Eastlands. Ancoats will become his new New Islington, this time focused on entertainment blocks rather than Sportcity.


    Unlike Bradford Colliery, where everything appeared brown and industrial, Ancoats stands in contrast¡ªlush with greenery, fresher air, and an environment more suitable for people to live in. The green spaces create a more welcoming atmosphere, suggesting a healthier and more sustainable urban setting.


    However, when it comes to development, rather than building on greenfield land (which is undeveloped land like parks or fields), a developer might choose to redevelop brownfield or greyfield sites. These are areas that have already been developed but are now abandoned, underused, or in decline.


    "How is it? Do you still want to buy the whole area?"


    "Of course¡ªbuy it. Buy all 800 acres," Richard said confidently.


    Now is the right time, especially as the Greater Manchester Council has granted him permission to proceed. As Roman Abramovich always said, timing is everything in investments.


    Miss Heysen nodded at this. "We¡¯ll divide the project into four phases as we planned, with each phase valued at around ¡ê200 million."


    By breaking the project into phases, the development can be managed more efficiently¡ªallowing for better financing, risk management, and a strategic rollout aligned with market demand.


    Each phase will likely focus on a distinct urban component: residential blocks, entertainment hubs, green public spaces, commercial zones, and cultural landmarks¡ªtransforming the area into a dynamic, mixed-use district. The total investment could reach nearly ¡ê900 million, marking one of the most ambitious urban regeneration efforts in Manchester¡¯s post-industrial landscape.


    "All right, I¡¯m leaving this project in your hands," Richard said firmly. "Also, please get in touch with Stuart from Maddox Property to discuss how we¡¯re going to design the entire area."


    Miss Heysen raised an eyebrow. "Don¡¯t we already have the ARUP Group handling it?"


    Richard shook his head. "ARUP isn¡¯t enough. What we need here is a comprehensive development plan¡ªnot just for the stadium, but for the entire district. This is about creating a whole ecosystem. Like I said, we¡¯re shaping a new city within a city."


    Everything must be carefully planned, as he¡¯s building not just for today but for the next 50 years. From transportation networks and green infrastructure to energy efficiency, waste and water management, flood resilience, security, and public safety¡ªevery detail matters. Nothing can be left to chance. All of these elements need to be woven into the blueprint.


    Done with the site visit, Richard hurried back to Maine Road, his mind swirling with thoughts about Ronaldo.


    As soon as he arrived, Richard went straight to the physio office to inquire about the striker¡¯s condition from Dr. Dave Fevre and Dr. Andreas Schlumberger.


    "You¡¯re saying he won¡¯t be able to play until the season ends?" Richard asked, struggling to process the information.


    "To be exact, five or six weeks, but it¡¯s better if he hangs up his boots for the rest of the season," Dave Fevre replied. "He tore his tibial tendon, and a long recovery is expected. It¡¯s better to ensure he fully heals rather than force him back onto the field prematurely."


    Richard paused, thinking for a moment before asking, "Is it related to the knee?"


    He wasn¡¯t familiar with the medical terms, but he knew Ronaldo¡¯s biggest problem had always been his knee.


    "No," Fevre explained patiently. "A tibial tendon tear is generally not related to the knee. The tibial tendon is located around the ankle and foot. It helps support the arch of the foot and stabilizes walking."


    Richard nodded slowly, trying to grasp the implications. "So it affects his mobility, but not his knee directly?"


    "Exactly," Schlumberger confirmed. "It¡¯s a serious injury, but with proper treatment and rehabilitation, he can recover fully¡ªjust not quickly."


    Richard sighed in relief upon hearing this. Historically, Ronaldo¡¯s performance had dropped significantly because of his knee problems, so hearing that this injury wasn¡¯t related to his knee was a better sign. Still, he couldn¡¯t afford to be careless about the injury Ronaldo was currently dealing with.


    "I understand," Richard said firmly. "Let¡¯s follow the medical advice and keep Ronaldo off the field for the rest of the season."


    With Ronaldo¡¯s status confirmed, it was inevitable that not everyone would take the news quietly. Among the first to react was Martin O¡¯Neill, who immediately sought Richard¡¯s attention after learning about the crisis.


    Not only was their star striker out, but now their central defense was also under threat, as Keith Curle was set to leave for Wolverhampton Wanderers for ¡ê650.000. The timing couldn¡¯t have been worse.


    O¡¯Neill, visibly concerned, didn¡¯t wait for a formal meeting. He walked straight into Richard¡¯s office.


    "We can¡¯t just sit on this," he said. "We¡¯ve lost our front man and now our defensive backup. We need reinforcements¡ªurgently. The squad depth just isn¡¯t there to absorb both losses."


    Richard looked up. "Marina is already in Monaco discussing the potential transfers of Henry and Thuram."


    Hearing this, O¡¯Neill¡¯s brows furrowed in disbelief. "Wait¡ªyou¡¯re not the one flying out there yourself?"


    "Didn¡¯t I already tell you that Marina would take over transfer matters?"


    O¡¯Neill was speechless. "Why her? Why not hand it to me? I know this squad better than anyone," he said, clearly frustrated.


    "And for what? So you can bring in players like Sutton Newell, or Gallacher¡ªthe ones you keep suggesting?"


    "..."


    "Look at Blackburn right now. Are they playing well? Yes, they were solid last season, but this season? Not at all. I don¡¯t want to sign one-season wonders. I want players who can perform consistently over many seasons."


    "And Henry is good enough in your eyes?" O¡¯Neill challenged.


    "At least, even when he¡¯s played out of position, he still managed to score seven goals in his last eleven matches. What about Sutton, Newell, and Gallacher?"


    Three players, six goals for current Blackburn. Henry has clearly outperformed them. With this, he¡¯d rather build for the future based on what he knows¡ªthree, five, even ten years down the line¡ªto grow, not stagnate.


    "...Well, fair enough," O¡¯Neill said with a slow, reluctant nod.


    To be honest, they initially just wanted to test the waters¡ªto see if he could challenge the transfer philosophy that Richard had set in stone. But after seeing all this, he began to seriously reflect on his own future.


    For the next few days, Manchester City was abuzz with activity. After an anxious wait, fans finally received confirmation that Ronaldo would be sidelined for the rest of the season.


    While the news was disappointing and sent supporters into a brief panic, the mood quickly shifted when City announced two shocking transfers: Thierry Henry and Lilian Thuram from AS Monaco!


    Click!


    The shutter of the club¡¯s official camera snapped, capturing a moment destined for the headlines.


    Thierry Henry and Lilian Thuram stood beside Martin O¡¯Neill, each holding up their brand-new sky-blue Manchester City jerseys. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This transfer sent shockwaves through the media and the football world alike. Critics couldn¡¯t believe it¡ªhow could top players from Ligue 1 willingly join a struggling team in England¡¯s Second Division?


    To many, it seemed like pure nonsense!


    Pundits debated fiercely on TV and radio. Questions flooded in: Were Henry and Thuram risking their careers by dropping to a lower league?


    Fans and experts alike discussed whether this move was a bold step toward revival or a costly mistake. However, while everyone basically criticized and mocked this move, they forgot that AS Monaco, after a rough start following Ars¨¨ne Wenger¡¯s departure, was still struggling under G¨¦rard Banide.


    In fact, the team was floundering near the bottom of the table, sitting in 16th place¡ªdangerously close to relegation.


    Thierry Henry, who had been deployed out of position on the left wing, was visibly frustrated and underperforming. Lilian Thuram, despite his leadership at the back, couldn¡¯t carry the team on his own.


    So, City¡¯s current offer of ¡ê10 million or 78 million francs, brings a fresh opportunity for both the club and the players. For the club, it means fresh investment while for the players, at least at City, it¡¯s better to play for a team fighting for promotion rather than being stuck in a relegation-threatened side.


    Richard personally oversaw the medical check-ups for Henry and Thuram in the physio office. Beside him stood Marina Granovskaia, who had successfully brought the two French players to City.


    "Henry wants to try playing as a striker because most of his goals have come when he¡¯s played centrally, not on the left," Marina explained. "So when I heard Ronaldo was injured, I immediately made him a promise¡ªand he agreed. As for Thuram, he wants regular playing time, and I promised him that too."


    Richard¡¯s mouth twitched. "Did you coordinate with Martin about this?"


    Marina simply shrugged her shoulders. "You said the important thing was to bring them to City first and think about the rest later, right? Besides, you also said both of them are very good players, so they should be able to convince the manager. If they can¡¯t, then there¡¯s nothing I can do. What matters is¡ªthey¡¯ve both signed four-year contracts with City."


    "..."


    Well, she wasn¡¯t wrong.


    "I also made them a promise," Marina added. "When the time comes¡ªif they ever want to leave¡ªCity won¡¯t stand in their way. We¡¯ll support their next Chapter."


    "Absolutely," Richard nodded. "As long as the price is right, we never hold back players who want to move on. That¡¯s part of our philosophy."


    You¡¯d think he was joking.


    But he wasn¡¯t.


    Even if it were Ronaldo or Messi¡ªif Real Madrid or Barcelona came calling with a nine-figure offer¡ªRichard would let them go without hesitation.

 Chapter 205: Fight for Promotion

    Chapter 205: Fight for PromotionJanuary 30, 1996 ¡ª The press release announcing Richard¡¯s acquisition of Adidas was everywhere: from Handelsblatt, Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, and Die Zeit to Manager Magazin.


    Inside the Handelsblatt office, it could be seen that a senior editor had already submitted his content to the editor-in-chief.


    [


    FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE


    February 01, 1996


    Maddox Capital Acquires Majority Stake in Adidas


    Herzogenaurach, Germany ¨C Maddox Capital, led by British investor Richard Maddox, has officially acquired a majority stake in global sportswear giant Adidas from Bernard Tapie Finance S.A., in a landmark deal valued at approximately 2.8 billion francs ($500 million)


    "This is not just a financial investment, it¡¯s a long-term commitment to restore Adidas to global dominance," said Richard Maddox in a brief statement. "We believe Adidas is uniquely positioned at the intersection of sports, culture, and innovation."


    Chairman of Pentland, Stephen Rubin, expressed enthusiasm: "With Maddox Capital¡¯s strategic vision and our operational know-how, we see tremendous opportunity to rejuvenate the Adidas brand¡ªespecially across Eastern Europe and the U.S. market."


    ]


    "Yes, that¡¯s good¡ªlet¡¯s release it," the chief editor said, his eyes scanning the final draft one last time.


    With that simple nod of approval, the Handelsblatt staff and editorial team sprang into action.


    Emails were fired off, final versions locked in, and the countdown to publication had begun.


    The next morning, a sample of the Handelsblatt article landed in Richard¡¯s email inbox.


    The subject line was marked "Final Preview: For Internal Approval"¡ªstandard procedure for any major piece involving him.


    He opened it without much thought, casually scrolling through the paragraphs.


    Nothing seemed out of place. No explosive takes, no misquotes, no names mentioned that shouldn¡¯t have been.


    As long as there was nothing dangerous, controversial, or wildly inaccurate, Richard didn¡¯t bother to read every word. He had more pressing matters on his plate.


    As February draws to a close, Manchester City remains firmly at the top of the table. But it hasn¡¯t been without pressure¡ªDerby County continues to breathe down their necks, keeping the race for promotion tight and intense.


    1?? Manchester City ¨C 78 pts - (Promotion)


    2?? Derby County ¨C 74 pts - (Promotion)


    3?? Crystal Palace ¨C 70 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    4?? Stoke City ¨C 67 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    5?? Ipswich Town ¨C 65 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    6?? Millwall ¨C 64 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    7?? Charlton Athletic ¨C 59 pts


    8?? West Brom ¨C 55 pts


    9?? Leicester City ¨C 50 pts


    ???? Sheffield United ¨C 49 pts


    The morning sun shone brightly¡ªa rare treat for the perpetually grey skies of Manchester. Richard stood at the edge of the training ground, wrapped in the club¡¯s official sportswear, a pair of dark thermal gloves on his hands as he clutched a steaming paper cup of coffee.


    Around him, the coaching staff lingered in small circles, exchanging jokes and updates before the day¡¯s session began.


    "Damn British weather," Richard muttered under his breath. Even with the sun out, the cold still lingered.


    O¡¯Neill, hearing that, squinted at the sky as if unsure whether to trust it. "I almost forgot what shadows looked like," he joked, his breath visible in the crisp air.


    "I¡¯ll take sun over headlines any day," Robertson chimed in, watching as a gust of wind bent the goal net. "Even if it only lasts a few minutes."


    Soon, the players began arriving at the training ground one by one, their footsteps crunching softly against the frost-tipped grass. Richard watched them with quiet satisfaction¡ªnearly every one of these players had been personally recruited under his watch.


    "How¡¯s Ronaldo¡¯s surgery? Is everything going well?"


    "Yes, I heard from Dave that the operation went smoothly. Andreas personally represented the club and stayed to monitor Ronaldo¡¯s condition directly at Wythenshawe Hospital. So everything is alright for now."


    Richard nodded at the news. Knowing that Dr. Andreas Schlumberger was overseeing Ronaldo¡¯s recovery gave him real peace of mind.


    Soon after almost all the players had arrived, the last two to show up were the most recent signings from the January transfer window¡ªThierry Henry and Lilian Thuram.


    Richard turned to Martin O¡¯Neill. "Do you already have an idea of how to use Henry?"


    Because of the agreement Marina made with Henry before his arrival, Henry expected his new role to be as a striker rather than playing on the left wing, as he had in Monaco¡¯s 4-3-3 system.


    "I can¡¯t guarantee that," O¡¯Neill said thoughtfully. "What you gave me was only the VHS tape¡ªnot the full picture of how he plays in a real match. I need to watch him closely in training and games to understand how he can fit into the system we already have."


    Richard nodded. "Fair enough..."


    February 2: For the next match, the atmosphere at The Valley Stadium, home of Charlton Athletic, was electric.


    The fans knew how crucial every game was now¡ªManchester City wanted to maintain their momentum, while Charlton Athletic was fighting for a playoff spot.


    This was also a special match. It marked Lilian Thuram¡¯s debut, while O¡¯Neill rested William Gallas.


    The French center-back had joined in January, and now was the moment to prove why Richard had fought so hard to sign him.


    From the opening whistle, Thuram made an immediate impact. His presence in the backline was commanding¡ªbarking orders, winning headers, stepping into tackles. Within the first 10 minutes, he had already bullied Charlton¡¯s striker off the ball twice.


    Larsson opened the scoring in the 24th minute, finishing off a cutback from Neil Lennon. Charlton Athletic then responded before halftime with a scrappy goal after a defensive mix-up between Thuram and Ferdinand.


    "Do you think we need to make a substitution now to replace Rio or Lilian?"


    O¡¯Neill shook his head. "Conceding a goal is normal, especially since they¡¯re both playing their first game. Lilian also isn¡¯t yet used to playing in England."


    In the second half, it was Trezeguet¡¯s moment. In the 80th minute¡ªcorner kick.


    Cafu whipped in the cross. Trezeguet rose above everyone, towering over the defense, and powered a header into the net.


    Charlton Athletic 1 ¨C 2 Manchester City


    The next match: February 5 ¡ª Manchester City vs. Sunderland


    Manchester City were set to face Sunderland, who had been on a losing streak in recent matches¡ªsomething that gave O¡¯Neill quiet confidence ahead of the fixture. Still, with back-to-back games piling up, O¡¯Neill knew rotation was necessary to manage player fatigue.


    Key Rotations:


    Roberto Carlos was rested, with Richard Jobson stepping in at left-back.


    Steve Finnan replaced Cafu at right-back, giving the Brazilian some much-needed rest.


    Marco Materazzi partnered Rio Ferdinand in central defense.


    In midfield, Jamie Pollock started over Neil Lennon, linking up with Robbie Savage and Steve Lomas.


    Up front, it was David Trezeguet paired with Andriy Shevchenko.


    Unexpectedly, the changes disrupted City¡¯s flow. Without Neil Lennon¡¯s creativity, the midfield looked disjointed¡ªreduced to physical battles and long balls.


    Most of the attacking responsibility fell heavily on Trezeguet and Shevchenko.


    Sunderland capitalized on this.


    In the 35th minute, they scored from a set piece to take the lead.


    "That¡¯s it¡ªSunderland breaks the deadlock. This could really boost their morale if they still have hopes of pushing for a playoff spot."


    In the 67th minute, Shevchenko tried to close the gap with a stunning long-range strike, but the ball deflected off the post. Sunderland responded swiftly with a counterattack¡ªand disaster struck for City.


    Materazzi was shown a second yellow card after pulling down the opposing striker by the shirt.


    With Materazzi sent off, it became an uphill battle. Just five minutes later, Sunderland struck again¡ªonce more from a set piece.


    Manchester City not only lost¡ªbut also conceded two goals in a single game for the first time this season.


    Sunderland 2 - 0 Manchester City


    Post-Match Interview.


    Reporter: "Why did you rotate the squad for this match?"


    O¡¯Neill: "Rotations are necessary to keep the players fresh. Depth means nothing if we can¡¯t maintain our level."


    Reporter: "What about Henry? Why hasn¡¯t he featured yet?"


    O¡¯Neill: "He¡¯s still adapting. He needs time to settle in."


    Reporter: "What¡¯s your take on Materazzi¡¯s red card? Do you think it was justified?"


    O¡¯Neill: "It¡¯s hard to say. From where I was standing, it looked like a tactical foul¡ªbut that second yellow changed the game completely. It¡¯s something we¡¯ll review, but at this level, you have to be more disciplined."


    With momentum slipping, O¡¯Neill decided it was time to bring out his strongest eleven for the next fixture.


    The response? Pure domination.


    The star of the show? Thierry Henry, with four assists.


    February 10: Manchester City 4 - 0 Burnley


    February 15: Manchester City 3 - 2 Watford


    February 18: Bolton 1 - 3 Manchester City


    However, just as City seemed poised to dominate their upcoming fixtures, they unexpectedly dropped points with draws against Derby County and Ipswich Town, allowing Derby County and Crystal Palace¡ªoccupying second and third place¡ªto close the gap, turning the promotion race into a fierce battle.


    1?? Manchester City ¨C 92 pts - (Promotion) Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    2?? Derby County ¨C 91 pts - (Promotion)


    3?? Crystal Palace ¨C 91 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    4?? Stoke City ¨C 84 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    5?? Millwall ¨C 81 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    6?? Ipswich Town ¨C 77 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    7?? Charlton Athletic ¨C 71 pts


    Skimming the current table, Richard nodded before turning his attention toward Miss Heysen, who briefed him about the upcoming schedule for March.


    "In the League Cup quarter-final, we will face Leeds United."


    League Cup quarter-final:


    Coventry City vs. Newcastle United


    Aston Villa vs. Wolverhampton Wanderers


    Manchester City vs. Leeds United


    Norwich City vs. Birmingham City


    Richard couldn¡¯t help but lament how fate had played a trick on him.


    Clearly, they were a second-tier team, yet they found themselves facing a Premier League side for the fourth time this season.


    To make matters worse, it was Leeds United who had just recently appointed George Graham, the former Arsenal boss famous for his pragmatic, super boring, ultra-defensive tactics.


    The only piece of good news was that City had home advantage. This would surely add a nice sum of income to the club.


    "Also, there will be an international break in early March for the Euros."


    "How many days is the break?"


    Hearing this, Miss Heysen began to check the schedule in the document she was holding.


    "There¡¯s an eight-day break before the league resumes."


    "Hmm..." Richard paused, rubbing his chin. "Miss Heysen, get in touch with Harrod Sport¡ªwe need to revitalize the pitch at Maine Road. Also, who handles our gym equipment supply?"


    "That would be Pullum Sports and Primal Strength. Do you want me to contact them?"


    "Yes. I want to completely upgrade the gym equipment¡ªtraining facilities, everything. Please contact them and allocate funds for it."


    "Understood."

 Chapter 206: Gulfstream GIV-SP and Sportcomplex De Toekomst

    Chapter 206: Gulfstream GIV-SP and Sportcomplex De ToekomstConsidering that Richard would be traveling abroad more frequently in the future, flying commercial had become increasingly inconvenient¡ªespecially given his need to prioritize security as a newly minted billionaire. So, he intended to purchase a private jet.


    Before the international break, alongside Adam Lewis¡ªhis current legal consultant for Maddox Capital¡ªRichard made a discreet visit to ExecuJet, a well-known private aircraft broker.


    "Looking for something light or long-range?" asked the broker, a neatly dressed man with a voice that exuded calm professionalism.


    "Long-range," Richard replied without hesitation. "Something comfortable enough for transatlantic flights¡ªprivate use, but with the performance of a business asset."


    Understanding the complexity of such a high-value acquisition, Richard and Adam had already hired an aviation consultant who specialized in new business jet acquisitions. Having discussed Richard¡¯s goals in previous meetings, the consultant immediately stepped in to guide the process.


    "We¡¯ll need to consider delivery timelines, international registration, tax-efficient ownership structures, and long-term maintenance packages. My client here is looking for something in the class of a Gulfstream IV¡ªa new build."


    Hearing this, the broker¡¯s eyes lit up.


    It was rare for someone to walk in looking to purchase a brand-new jet. Most clients came searching for well-maintained pre-owned models¡ªmore cost-effective, quicker to acquire, easier to register.


    But someone requesting a new aircraft? That meant serious capital and even more serious intent.


    "You¡¯re in a very exclusive category, sir," the broker said, adjusting his cufflinks. "Most of our clients are looking for something slightly used. Going new gives you far more control¡ªinterior configuration, updated avionics, even bespoke branding options. However, in line with our company policy, I must remind you¡ª"


    He cleared his throat politely before continuing.


    "A private plane itself costs tens of millions of dollars to purchase. And private-jet owners will need roughly ten times that in net worth to afford the cost of upkeep, which includes storing the plane, hiring staff to operate and maintain it and redoing the interior as needed."


    Despite what people assume from reading tabloids, being rich and famous doesn¡¯t automatically mean you fly private. It¡¯s the celebrity illusion of wealth. Even Madonna, the Queen of Pop, has been spotted flying commercial¡ªeconomy class, no less


    "We don¡¯t have a choice¡ªmy client here chooses to fly privately because of security concerns," the consultant quickly said as he blinked his eyes at the broker, as if he wanted to say, ¡¯Don¡¯t bullshit me with your corporate rules; you¡¯re just testing whether he can actually afford it!¡¯


    As if he understood it, the broker coughed. "Then I¡¯ll arrange private viewings," he said, "and send over the spec sheets for factory delivery slots. If we move quickly, you could have delivery scheduled within the year."


    After that, the broker began introducing all the current models available through ExecuJet¡ªfrom Gulfstream, Dassault, and Bombardier. The G-V, Falcon 900EX, and the Challenger 604 were all top-of-the-line for 1996.


    "We have a few listings that fit. One just came in¡ªa 1992 Gulfstream IV-SP, refurbished last year. The cabin¡¯s been updated with premium leather seating and a satellite phone system. I¡¯ll have the spec sheet brought up."


    It can be said that this aircraft is the most advanced intercontinental long-haul business jet currently available. It is powered by two Rolls-Royce Tay Mk 611-8 engines, each offering 13,850 lbs of thrust and consuming a combined 479 gallons per hour (GPH). The range of the GIV-SP is 4,091 nautical miles, operating under NBAA IFR conditions with 4 passengers and full fuel.


    As they reviewed the aircraft options over espresso and legal briefings, Richard gazed at images of the jet¡¯s sleek interior.


    The cabin volume of the Gulfstream GIV-SP is 1,658 cubic feet, with a typical configuration featuring 14 to 19 passenger seats and 2 crew seats. It is classified as a midsize cabin business jet.


    "The biggest improvement of this Gulfstream over earlier models is the Rolls-Royce Tay engines, which offer more efficient fuel burn and reduced noise emissions. So you can expect pure luxury when you board this jet, sir."


    "Is that so?"


    "Yes. In fact, the SP in the Gulfstream GIV-SP name stands for Special Performance. It is the first in the Gulfstream family to employ Goodyear Aerospace¡¯s brake-by-wire system and a Dowty fail-passive steer-by-wire system, making maneuverability easier. Its gross takeoff weight is 1,400 pounds higher than the previous GIV. And the requirements for airport runways for takeoff and landing are not too demanding, so medium-sized and larger airports can meet it easily."


    With that, Richard rose from his seat. "Alright then," he said, extending his hand, making the broker grin from ear to ear.


    After personalized customization, the total price of the GIV-SP was around 40 million US dollars, but it would take several months before the aircraft was ready for use. Therefore, for his trip to the Netherlands during the international break, Richard opted to charter a business jet from an airline.


    It wasn¡¯t a GIV-SP, but the earlier GIV model.


    On this trip, Richard¡¯s entourage included Adam Lewis, Marina, Miss Heysen, as well as his father, mother, Miss Rowling, and her daughter¡ªa total of seven people.


    "Brother Richard, is this yours?"


    Though little Jessica was only five years old, she was already curious and observant. Usually, on airplanes, people had to sit in tight rows and stay quiet.


    But here?


    Everyone was talking. Even Uncle Bryan couldn¡¯t sit still¡ªhe kept walking back and forth. Just from that, she could tell this plane was probably something special. Maybe it belonged to her big brother, especially since he had shaken hands with the pilot before they took off.


    "No," Richard said with a smile, "but your big brother¡¯s going to have one even nicer than this!"


    "Really?"


    Richard smiled and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Of course. You see, this one¡¯s a bit old and small, but soon we¡¯ll have a shiny new plane¡ªall big and fancy. You can even run around while we¡¯re flying." sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Really?!" Jessica¡¯s eyes lit up.


    Richard laughed softly. "Of course! We¡¯ll make it fun and cozy, with a special spot just for you."


    Jessica beamed, snuggling closer. "I can¡¯t wait, big brother!"


    Richard laughed softly as he gently ruffled her hair.


    The flight from Manchester to Amsterdam takes around 2 to 2.5 hours, so after playing for a while, little Jessica eventually fell asleep.


    Richard used this opportunity to quietly turn to Lewis and ask about the current status of Miss Rowling¡¯s divorce case.


    "Finalized last week," he said, his tone measured. "The settlement went through on Tuesday. The judge approved the custody arrangement¡ªJessica¡¯s with her full-time. The father didn¡¯t contest it."


    Richard¡¯s expression remained neutral, but a subtle nod showed his relief. ¡¯The Harry Potter series might be released even sooner now,¡¯ he hoped.


    As if she had overheard their conversation, Miss Rowling gently stood up, adjusted the blanket over her daughter, and walked over to Richard¡¯s side of the cabin.


    "May I?" she asked softly, gesturing to the seat next to him.


    "Of course," Richard replied, motioning for her to sit.


    She lowered herself gracefully into the seat, her fingers interlaced in her lap. There was a moment of quiet between them¡ªcomfortable, filled not with awkwardness, but with unspoken understanding.


    "I just wanted to say..." she began, her voice quiet but steady, "thank you."


    Richard tilted his head slightly.


    "You didn¡¯t have to do any of it. Not the lawyers, not the support behind the scenes, not this¡ª" she gestured subtly around the cabin, "this whole trip. You helped me when things were... when things were unbearable."


    Richard only smiled at this. "You¡¯re family. And Jessica deserves peace. So do you."


    Miss Rowling chuckled as she glanced at her daughter sleeping peacefully. "She already thinks the world of you."


    Richard could only offer her a warm smile. "Let¡¯s just say we¡¯re all flying toward something better."


    "..."


    After a few hours, the Gulfstream landed at Amsterdam Airport Schiphol.


    Richard then parted ways with his parents and Miss Rowling, as he wasn¡¯t here for vacation but for work.


    After coaxing little Jessica, who was reluctant to part ways because she didn¡¯t want to be separated, Richard and his entourage finally boarded their car and headed to Sportcomplex De Toekomst.


    This is Ajax¡¯s renowned youth training base¡ªonce widely regarded as one of the most celebrated academies in Europe and the world, long before La Masia rose to prominence by capitalizing on the Bosman ruling.


    In Dutch, the complex is often seen as a symbol of the future. Few realized, however, that Ajax¡¯s future was about to face a significant challenge.


    Edgar Davids became Europe¡¯s first high-profile player to benefit from the Bosman ruling when he moved from Ajax to Milan. Following him, many of Ajax¡¯s top talents would eventually scatter across Europe, reshaping the football landscape.


    Today¡¯s agenda was to tour the Ajax training base firsthand. This complex would serve as the key reference and inspiration for designing the new City training base at their upcoming stadium, aiming to replicate Ajax¡¯s success in nurturing young talent.


    The facility boasted numerous meticulously maintained training pitches, each buzzing with the energy of young players across various age groups.


    Around the pitches, parents watched anxiously, their eyes filled with hope and pride, while scouts from clubs near and far observed silently, searching for the next generation of football stars.


    It turns out today was the recruitment day for the Ajax youth academy. Well, they do this regularly¡ªso the routine no longer feels unusual.


    Richard looked at the training field, his eyes filled with warmth for the hardworking children, admiring Dutch football¡ª433, the eternal attacking football.


    "Are you going to make the stadium and everything exactly the same?" Marina asked.


    Richard was pulled from his thoughts by her question. "Of course not," he said, turning toward her. "We¡¯re not here to copy¡ªwe¡¯re here to create something of our own. Inspired, yes. But built for the future."


    The Hillsborough disaster provided the catalyst for the last wave of stadium building. Now, British football appears to be in the grip of a new construction boom, and expectations have risen. Still, most current football stadiums in England are great for football but offer little else.


    To be honest, the best way to build a stadium is with somebody else¡¯s money. It¡¯s almost impossible to make a profit on one. That¡¯s why many football club owners hesitate to build stadiums using their own money¡ªonly Richard dares to do so.


    In fact, the 1990s era, Eastland¡ªwhether it was brownland or greenland¡ªworked entirely in Richard¡¯s favor.


    It quietly saved him a lot of trouble with the slog of getting planning permission. After all, nobody wants a stadium next door¡ªthey all complain about traffic and people causing trouble in their gardens. Plus, you don¡¯t have to ask your fans to change their habits.


    "This is for the City Academy," Richard explained, gesturing toward the plans and referencing the training base modeled after Ajax. Then he paused for a moment.


    "As for the main stadium..." he looked up, his expression calm but confident, "we will be the first football club to fully integrate football with lifestyle."


    City¡¯s new home would be more than just a sports venue¡ªit would be a destination.


    Sensory rooms, TV compounds, a state-of-the-art Bose sound system, a Desso hybrid pitch, and two giant screens¡ªit would be best in class.


    Moreover, with 800 acres at his disposal, Manchester City¡¯s complex would become a living, breathing hub of culture, media, and spectacle.


    Football was no longer just about 90 minutes on the pitch¡ªit was about the entire experience, unforgettable from start to finish.

 Chapter 207: Daily Life of a Footballer: Henrik Larsson’s POV

    Chapter 207: Daily Life of a Footballer: Henrik Larsson¡¯s POVThe international break had ended, and only a handful of players had been called up to represent their national teams. These included notable names such as Robbie Savage, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara, Henrik Larsson, and Steve Finnan.


    With the schedule becoming increasingly packed¡ªand with fierce competition from Derby County and Crystal Palace¡ªthe players were required to stay in the club dormitory.


    The decision was made to improve training efficiency and ensure better team cohesion during this critical stretch of the season.


    6:20 AM


    Henrik Larsson felt a sharp stiffness in his back the moment he tried to sit up. Grimacing, he rose slowly from bed, his hand instinctively reaching for his lower back.


    "I¡¯m exhausted," he muttered.


    A quiet groan escaped him as he stood, and his frown deepened when he turned toward the window.


    Not even a hint of sunlight broke through. It was hard to remember the last time he¡¯d seen a truly bright morning. Everything lately felt muted.


    Whether it was the gloomy sky or the fatigue from barely sleeping over the past few days, he wasn¡¯t sure.


    Maybe it was both.


    People often criticize football players when they don¡¯t perform, saying things like, "The club is paying you a high salary, so you should deliver." And when players fall short, they¡¯re bombarded with criticism.


    But what about the mental side? What about the stress, the overwhelm, and the burnout?


    6:50 AM


    Larsson sighed quietly before pulling on his training kit and stepping out of his dorm room. It was early¡ªbut not unusually so for a match-week training day


    He made his way down the hallway toward the dining area.


    The smell of fresh coffee, oats, and eggs hit him as he pushed the door open.


    Inside, a few of the lads were already seated around the long breakfast table¡ªchatting in low voices, some half-awake, while others checked the day¡¯s schedule on the notice board.


    "Morning, mate," Materazzi greeted him.


    "Morning," Larsson replied.


    He gave a few brief nods to the others before grabbing a tray and going down the breakfast line.


    Porridge oats with a drizzle of honey and berries


    2 poached eggs


    Whole grain toast with avocado


    Fresh fruit smoothie


    Two poached eggs, sausages, whole grain toast with avocado, and a fresh fruit smoothie were on offer. Larsson piled his plate with eggs, a couple of sausages, and some toast¡ªstandard fuel for a hard day¡¯s training. He topped it off with a bowl of porridge and a spoonful of honey.


    Larsson sat down at the end of the table with his plate, quietly tucking into his food.


    As he looked around the room, something caught his eye.


    Nearly everyone had a pen in hand and was focused on something in front of them.


    Lennon was hunched over a sheet of paper, and just across from him, Shevchenko was also deep in thought before jotting something down. Even the captain, Cafu, had his eyes narrowed as he wrote.


    Larsson leaned slightly toward Jens Lehmann, who was seated nearby, and asked quietly, "What¡¯s going on?"


    Lehmann didn¡¯t look up. "Questionnaire," he mumbled, grabbing a forkful of sausage. "The club gave it to everyone this morning. I already did mine."


    Larsson frowned. "Questionnaire?"


    "Yeah¡ªpick one up at the notice board," Lehmann said, nodding toward the far wall.


    Larsson¡¯s curiosity got the better of him. He set down his fork, stood up, and walked over to the notice board.


    Sure enough, a stack of questionnaires had been pinned underneath a small sign: PLAYER WELLNESS ¨C CONFIDENTIAL ¨C TO BE RETURNED BY NOON


    He pulled one from the stack and glanced at the front page. It was simple¡ªjust one sheet, front and back.


    Returning to his seat, he sat down, porridge now forgotten. He skimmed the questions.


    1. How many hours of sleep did you get last night?


    2. Did you wake up feeling rested?


    3. On a scale of 1¨C10, how would you rate your current energy level?


    4. How would you describe your mood this morning?


    5. Are you currently feeling stressed or overwhelmed?


    6. Do you feel mentally prepared for today¡¯s training?


    Larsson was taken aback by this. It was the first time he had ever filled out something like this.


    Nevertheless, seeing his teammates completing the questionnaire, he tapped the end of his pen against the table.


    Then, slowly, he started to write.


    8:00 am


    With breakfast finished and the questionnaire completed, Larsson made his way down to the gym at Maine Road for his scheduled prehab session.


    For most footballers, prehab had become a patchwork of familiar routines¡ªexercises picked up over the years from different physios at various clubs. Little rituals designed to ward off injury and prepare the body for the day ahead.


    Larsson¡¯s session today was under the supervision of Ron, the newest addition to Dave Fevre¡¯s medical staff. But just as he reached the gym doors, he stopped.


    He blinked.


    The gym looked nothing like the one he remembered.


    The usual worn-out mats and creaky benches had been replaced. Brand-new equipment lined the walls¡ªstate-of-the-art treadmills, resistance machines, free weights, and balance boards. Even the flooring had been redone with fresh rubber tiles, and a full-length mirror now stretched across one side of the room.


    Gallas and Ferdinand were already in the corner, experimenting with a new cable system, while one of the physios stood nearby, explaining how to use the pneumatic leg press machine to Roberto Carlos.


    "What¡¯s wrong?" Ron¡¯s voice came from behind, noticing Larsson standing still.


    Larsson turned, eyes still scanning the space. "Since when did we replace everything?"


    Hearing the question, Ron finally understood Larsson¡¯s confusion. "During the international break. The boss gave the order to revamp the whole setup."


    "The boss? You mean..." Larsson tilted his chin toward O¡¯Neill, who was speaking to an Robertson across the room.


    "No, not Martin," Ron said with a small smile. "I mean direct instructions from the boss¡¯s boss."


    Oh, it means the big boss, Richard Maddox.


    Larsson nodded and began his prehab session, which took about 30 to 40 minutes.


    Once he has finished his session, he goes straight into the physio room next door to get his ankle strapping applied by Ron. He wears the strapping because of a previous ankle injury, and it provides his ankle with added support during training.


    8:55 am


    Ankle strapping applied and feeling his body feeling as loose as is possible, it¡¯s then back to the changing room to grab his boots and go out to training.


    "Eh?"


    While slowly walking across the training ground, Larsson suddenly stopped once again.


    The scent of grass mixed with morning dew filled the air. It was mid-March¡ªstill chilly, with the damp morning air cold enough to make his shoulders shrink. The brisk wind swept away his drowsiness and fatigue.


    His eyes took in the serene, empty training ground. He stepped forward, feeling the soft grass beneath his feet. The pitch was lush and well-maintained¡ªsmooth enough that even if a player fell or slid, it wouldn¡¯t be a burden on their body.


    But that wasn¡¯t what surprised him.


    "Seriously? They even redid the grass?"


    Clubs typically waited until the off-season to tear up and re-lay the turf. Doing it mid-season was rare¡ªrisky, even. The timing just didn¡¯t make sense. Still, just seeing it brought satisfaction to any footballer.


    He looked up. The training equipment was neatly arranged.


    The old, worn-out gear had been completely replaced. Everything was new¡ªnot just the gym, but the facilities on the pitch and the pitch itself.


    The rusted goalposts, the peeling paint, the wire fences full of holes, and the scratched-up clubhouse exterior¡ªall had been transformed as if brand new.


    Training starts at 9 o¡¯clock and usually begins with a warm-up, which may consist of a jog, stretching, and short, sharp sprints.


    Warm-ups are often the bane of every footballer¡¯s day. They aren¡¯t meant to be enjoyed¡ªthey¡¯re designed to get the body warm, ready to perform in training, and help prevent injuries.


    Training usually revolves around a series of different football drills. Although these drills vary from day to day, they typically fall into one of three categories: tactical, technical, or fitness.


    The main focus of today¡¯s training session is fitness.


    The session typically lasts between an hour and a half to two hours, depending on the day of the week or other factors such as recent or upcoming matches.


    12 PM


    By now, the football session has usually finished, and it¡¯s time to head back to the changing room. If there isn¡¯t a scheduled gym session and no medical treatment is required from the physio, it¡¯s time to have a shower before lunch.


    The dirty kit is left in a wheelie bin in the changing room to be washed for the next day of training.


    At a professional level, players are lucky enough to have a kitman who washes and prepares all their training kits for the following day.


    Larsson remembered the first time he started his career at H?gaborgs BK¡ªhe was basically in charge of washing and looking after his own training kit.


    12:15 -12.45 pm


    After showering and changing into some casual clothes, it was time to refuel.


    Unlike his previous club, Feyenoord, where players paid a small fee for meals that was deducted from their wages at the end of each month, at Manchester City everything was basically free. Whether you wanted breakfast or lunch, the club provided it all.


    There was something interesting about the setup here at Manchester City, though.


    Footballers could come in and eat whatever they wanted. That was something Henrik Larsson knew well¡ªeven during his time at Feyenoord and basically at every club.


    Here at City, this was usually not the case. Meals were more controlled, and players didn¡¯t have the same freedom to choose whatever they fancied.


    Everything was changing here. He remembered the first time he came to City¡ªback then, some players still ate carelessly. Gradually, the rules started to tighten, especially with the introduction of individual meal boxes for each player.


    Now...?


    The nutritionists work with the dietitians, physios, and doctors to determine what each player should be eating. They double-check everything and provide the ingredients needed to create the recipes.


    He had heard rumors that the club spent nearly ¡ê15,000 on the new kitchen and dining room, and another ¡ê5,000 per month on all these people. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Every player has their own menu, as each has specific needs," they said.


    "Sarah, bring Henrik menu number 17!" the chef called out.


    "Got it," came the reply, as the other party quickly moved to fetch the menu.


    "Henrik, thanks for waiting. Here¡¯s yours."


    Just like the menu. When he first arrived here, players used to be served steak and chips. But now? Grilled chicken breast, brown rice, and a generous portion of steamed broccoli, spinach, and sweet potato.


    "Lean protein, complex carbs, and antioxidants to aid recovery. Here you go," the chef briefed with a smile as he served the plate to the player in front of him.


    "Thanks, mate," Larsson said as he grabbed his plate.


    1:00 PM


    After lunch, players have limited spare time outside of their routine. Whether it¡¯s arranging additional drills, attending consultations, or taking a moment to sit down, read the newspaper, or chat, they use this time to catch up on anything they may have missed that morning or the previous day.


    2:00 PM


    If there is no other session, then today¡¯s work at the club is finished.


    After chatting with his teammates, Larsson immediately collected his fresh training kit for the next day and then went to his dormitory.


    The day follows the same routine, repeating over and over until match time arrives.


    "Ah, shit," Larsson muttered under his breath as soon as he heard who their next opponents were. Just the name alone sent a shiver down his spine.


    Millwall. An away match. The Den.


    Even when playing at Maine Road, they had the nerve to attack the team bus (Chapter 106). Now, he could only imagine how savage the welcome would be when they arrived at Millwall¡¯s home ground.


    A sinking feeling settled in his gut.


    He already had a bad feeling about it.

 Chapter 208: Manchester City vs Millwall Part 2: Worst of the Worst

    Chapter 208: Manchester City vs Millwall Part 2: Worst of the WorstOn March 24th, in their 40th fixture of the First Division League, Manchester City played an away match against Millwall.


    With just six rounds remaining in the season, the top of the league table remains unchanged.


    Manchester City, Derby County, and Crystal Palace continue to dominate the standings, each maintaining a commanding lead of seven to eight points. The pressure is mounting, and excitement is building as fans anticipate a thrilling finish to the campaign.


    "Following back-to-back away matches, Martin O¡¯Neill and his squad now return to The Den, where supporters will be eager to see their team push for a strong finish. With everything still to play for, all eyes are on the scoreboard¡ªwhat will it read after 90 minutes?" the commentator shouted excitedly. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "NO ONE LIKES US, WE DON¡¯T CARE!"


    The chant thundered through The Den as Millwall fans roared in unison, a wall of sound echoing across the stadium.


    Though British football hooliganism has garnered global notoriety, there¡¯s no denying that the passion of the fans here is unmatched anywhere in the world. Supporters don¡¯t cheer based on whether their team plays with flair or caution. They don¡¯t go silent when the scoreboard turns against them.


    For these fans, loyalty runs deeper than form or fortune¡ªit is a lifelong bond, often passed down through generations, to a single club.


    A Football Club like Millwall might be one of the few clubs in the world where its fans were more famous than the club itself.


    As a small team in the south of London, they did not have many achievements and honors to show off, and they did not have any big-name stars. But they had the most fearless group of fans in the U.K., and even in the world.


    "FUCK YOU!!!"


    "GO BACK TO MANCHESTER!!!"


    Ah, so it had already begun.


    About a hundred hardcore City fans, clad in their sky-blue jerseys, stood defiantly¡ªshouting, cursing, and hurling obscene gestures at the Millwall supporters. The Millwall fans, tightly packed in their own phalanx, responded in kind with a barrage of insults and hand signals.


    But despite the tension crackling in the air, neither side crossed the line into physical violence.


    The London Metropolitan Police Service had already positioned themselves between the two groups¡ªfully armed, alert, and ready to intervene at the first sign of escalation.


    At an intersection, police surrounded both sides¡ªit was time for the City team bus to pass through.


    They had clearly learned their lesson from what happened at Maine Road.


    Though the Millwall fans had stopped moving, they remained on the edge of chaos, just beyond the reach of the still-abusive and frenzied City supporters.


    The match itself was far less exciting than the clash between the two sets of fans in the stands. At this time, the Millwall supporters once again took center stage.


    They relentlessly taunted the City players and fans throughout the stadium. Especially when William Gallas received the ball, they made monkey noises at him. Literally, every time he had the ball or made a challenge, the Millwall fans sounded ape-like jeers.


    From the sidelines, even City staff could hear taunts like "Here, your banana," along with the hateful shouts of "You black bastard."


    It¡¯s not just the words that hurt. It was the threatening tone in their voices. Despite many of them being kids it was real hatred. Thanks to this kind of intimidation, which bordered on threatening behavior, Manchester City conceded a goal¡ªthanks to a header by Richard Cadette.


    Millwall 1 - 0 Manchester City


    Both Manchester City and Millwall set up in a 4-4-2 formation.


    The only difference was that while City liked to attack using overlapping fullbacks, Millwall, like a traditional English club, opted for long passes to create threats.


    Even after conceding, City remained focused and determined. The more Millwall relied on their long-ball tactic, the more City thrived by executing quick ground counter-attacks.


    Unexpectedly, just five minutes before the first half ended, an astonishing scene unfolded on the pitch.


    The incident occurred just after City¡¯s late equalizer, scored by Henrik Larsson before the end of the first half.


    Naturally, the players celebrated the goal without provoking or taunting the home fans, yet a mob of thirty or more suddenly poured onto the pitch and started heading towards them.


    "POLICE!" O¡¯Neill immediately shouted, calling for assistance as he saw the players in a dangerous situation.


    Fortunately, the mob was held back before they could reach the players. But the message was clear enough: scare another and we will do you.


    It sounds ridiculous, but that¡¯s exactly what happened in this match.


    Thanks to this, O¡¯Neill and the City staff made an appeal to the officials to abandon the match, but they were assured that the game was safe and that the police were already on high alert.


    Though dissatisfied with this, in the end, O¡¯Neill could only nod his head, and the match continued.


    Millwall 1 - 1 Manchester City


    Sure enough, less than five minutes later¡ªexactly at the 44th minute¡ªthe worst of the worst happened.


    Millwall sent a long ball into City¡¯s penalty area.


    The ball was easily cleared by Materazzi¡¯s header and fell to Van Bommel, who sparked a counter-attack. But as the ball reached Cafu¡¯s feet, the referee suddenly blew the whistle and turned toward Millwall¡¯s defense.


    Everyone¡¯s eyes darted to Millwall¡¯s backline.


    They saw Materazzi angrily shouting at a Millwall forward who was rolling on the ground!


    "WOAAAHH!!!"


    The fans shouted wildly, clearly excited by the spectacle.


    "Vaffanculo! Ma che cazzo fai?! Stronzo!!!" Materazzi was seen shouting angrily at him. (F*** off! What the f*** are you doing?! Asshole!!!)


    Meanwhile, the Millwall forward clutched his face, screaming in agony as pain radiated through him. His teammates rushed over, concern etched on their faces, while the tension on the pitch thickened.


    The crowd¡¯s roar fluctuated between boos and gasps, caught up in the drama unfolding before them.


    Tempers flared instantly.


    Millwall players surrounded Materazzi, accusing him angrily, while City¡¯s squad stood firm, ready to defend their teammate.


    The situation grew heated, and it seemed their teammates were on the verge of breaking into a full-blown fight.


    "What happened?" O¡¯Neill furrowed his brow and turned toward the coaching staff, having missed the incident.


    Robertson leaned in quietly and replied, "It seems Marco slapped Richard Cadette down to the ground."


    O¡¯Neill¡¯s eyes widened as he stood up abruptly. A chorus of boos erupted from the stands, drowning out the sounds of the game, as the referee swiftly brandished a red card in front of Materazzi!


    Was Materazzi really being sent off for violence in a non-competitive situation?


    O¡¯Neill mulled over the possibility. It was certainly within the referee¡¯s authority¡ªbut for what exact reason?


    A momentary loss of temper? A heated verbal exchange? Provocation?


    The coach knew that in moments like these, discipline was paramount. Yet, emotions on the pitch often boiled over in the heat of battle, blurring the line between passion and recklessness.


    Only the swift intervention of the referees and the tightly positioned police officers prevented the clash from erupting. However, while the police and security focused on the events unfolding on the pitch, they overlooked the most dangerous threat¡ªnot on the field, but in the stands.


    It was a time when the police patrol force was distracted, overstretched, and under immense stress.


    The crowd began to shift¡ªone or two Millwall fans, emboldened by the lax security, started shouting provocations at the City supporters nearby.


    What began as scattered jeers quickly escalated into verbal sparring that spilled over into shoving and jostling.


    Barriers collapsed, and people spilled onto the aisles.


    A punch was thrown. Then another.


    The lines between fans blurred as a full-scale clash erupted in the stands. Bottles flew, and the stadium shook with shouts and curses.


    The already stretched police scrambled to intervene, but it was too late.


    As the violence escalated, a group of Millwall fans surged forward, pushing past barriers and spilling onto the pitch. The invasion caught everyone off guard¡ªplayers froze, referees called for order, and the crowd¡¯s roar turned into chaos.


    "Everyone, get off the pitch! Quickly, quickly!" O¡¯Neill shouted urgently, his voice cutting through the chaos.


    Seeing the situation spiraling out of control, he directed his command not only at the City players but also at his coaching staff, because the police and stewards no longer seemed to have any control.


    Millwall fans went around smashing up their own area and fighting the police, and unexpectedly, the first casualty wasn¡¯t a player or staff but Martin O¡¯Neill himself!


    Amid the confusion, O¡¯Neill was near the sideline, trying to keep his players calm and signaling for order.


    Suddenly, a surge of the unruly crowd pushed forward. In the crush, O¡¯Neill was caught off balance.


    A fan, losing control, shoved him hard from behind. He stumbled backward, his foot catching awkwardly on the uneven ground. As he fell, his body twisted sharply, and he landed heavily on his hip against the concrete edge near the dugout. He tried to rise but found his hip unresponsive and agonizingly stiff.


    Robertson, seeing this, immediately rushed over to assist.


    Security forces hurriedly moved to contain the mob, but the damage was done.


    The match was halted, and pandemonium ruled the stadium. It was a stark reminder that when vigilance slips, football passion can quickly spiral into dangerous anarchy.

 Chapter 209: Points Deduction

    Chapter 209: Points DeductionIn a country where even the Prime Minister and the Queen pay close attention to football, the sport is more than just a pastime¡ªit¡¯s a cornerstone of national identity.


    From posh drawing rooms in the countryside to crowded pubs in the inner cities, football is the great equalizer. For generations, football has run through the veins of the English people. It has carried the nation through triumphs and heartbreaks alike.


    When Sir Bobby Charlton stood in silent grief for the fallen heroes of the Munich air disaster, the world wept with him. Later, the tragedy of Heysel left scars not just on Liverpool, but on the soul of English football. Paul Gascoigne¡¯s tearful breakdown at Italia ¡¯90 wasn¡¯t just a moment of vulnerability¡ªit was a mirror for an entire nation¡¯s raw emotional connection to the game.


    And now, in what should have been just another fixture in a long and storied league campaign, the events unfolding between Millwall and Manchester City have erupted into chaos.


    The country watches in disbelief. Pundits debate it in television studios, newspapers plaster it across front pages, and fans across all clubs weigh in with outrage or weary familiarity. Once again, the beautiful game finds itself entangled in the darkest corners of society ¡ª and England, football¡¯s proud cradle, is forced to confront its reflection.


    Richard, who was in the Netherlands at the time, was stunned when the news reached him. He sat in disbelief, struggling to process what had happened.


    The only small comfort he could cling to was this: it had all taken place at The Den¡ªMillwall¡¯s ground¡ªand not at Maine Road.


    Richard and his entourage didn¡¯t wait any longer¡ªthey departed that very night and headed straight back to Manchester.


    The very next day, the Football Association swiftly took action against both Millwall and Manchester City.


    Millwall, identified as the primary source of the trouble, was heavily sanctioned to set an example for others. They were immediately docked 50 points as a direct consequence of their fans¡¯ violent behavior and failure to maintain order¡ªeffectively sealing their relegation for the season.


    The harsh punishment sent a clear message across the league: such conduct would not be tolerated under any circumstances.


    Meanwhile, Manchester City also faced severe consequences. Despite not being the main instigators, they were docked 25 points in the league standings as punishment!


    That day, Richard immediately called Johanssen from UEFA¡¯s legal and disciplinary committee asking for help. After the call, he turned to Robertson and the other coaching staff and asked, "What happened?"


    They then briefed him about the incident where Materazzi slapped Millwall striker Richard Cadette down to the ground. After that, the referee immediately brandished a red card at Materazzi, and chaos erupted.


    "Did you ask Marco about it?"


    All the staff shook their heads.


    As Materazzi trudged off the pitch with a dark expression, they tried to speak to him calmly. But Materazzi, looking grim, approached the sideline, opened his mouth as if to say something, then merely shook his head and walked straight into the tunnel.


    The staff felt helpless¡ªclearly, Materazzi was unwilling to discuss what had happened.


    As a result of the incident, the match was abandoned. Manchester City also faced disciplinary action, sharing in the penalties handed down for the chaos that had erupted.


    "What about Martin? Is he okay?"


    Martin O¡¯Neill was currently at Wythenshawe Hospital, having been caught in the chaos and unfortunately pushed during the Millwall fans¡¯ pitch invasion.


    The incident left him with injuries serious enough to require medical attention, which meant that for the rest of the match, there was a possibility that Robertson, his assistant would take over, as O¡¯Neill was expected to remain in the hospital.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


    While the coaching staff and management were deep in an emergency meeting, the sudden knocking on the door made everyone look up.


    The room fell silent as the door creaked open, revealing Frank Shepherd and Gordon Barry, the City legal team


    Both men stepped in briskly, their expressions serious but composed.


    Shepherd cleared his throat and spoke first, "We¡¯ve been following the situation closely. There are urgent legal matters to discuss, but first, let¡¯s address what happened between Materazzi and Cadette."


    Richard frowned, frustration evident on his face. "What exactly happened? This is so frustrating if Marco keeps us in the dark."


    The Den didn¡¯t have a large screen to watch replays; otherwise, they could have seen the incident clearly.


    Shepherd grimaced. "I¡¯ve already requested the CCTV footage from The Den. We should receive it tomorrow, which the FA will provide to both sides to aid in the appeal. Meanwhile, we¡¯ve interviewed some eyewitnesses. Apparently, after Materazzi headed the ball clear, Cadette approached him and fouled him."


    Richard¡¯s brow furrowed deeper. "Fouled? What kind of foul?"


    If Materazzi was fouled, Cadette should¡¯ve been the one punished. So why was Materazzi the one shown the red card?


    Shepherd hesitated, then continued with a sheepish grin, "Well, when Materazzi confronted Cadette... several witnesses claim Cadette poked Materazzi right on his backside¡ªwith his finger." S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "..."


    A heavy silence fell over the room. You¡¯ve got to be kidding me!


    The coaching staff and management exchanged stunned looks as they tried to process this.


    It turned out Materazzi had just been humiliated.


    No wonder he refused to speak. Given his fiery temperament, it was no surprise he lost control. For him, slapping Cadette was the only reaction he could think of after being provoked like that.


    Richard frowned deeply and said, "So all the problems started because of Millwall, not Manchester City¡ªwhy are we being punished with a 25-point deduction? That¡¯s incredibly harsh."


    Losing 20 points basically means City¡¯s chance of promotion is gone completely.


    Richard¡¯s frown deepened as Shepherd continued, "This is exactly what I wanted to discuss next. After the match, eyewitnesses and CCTV footage showed that City¡¯s Guvnors firm ambushed the Bushwackers at London Bridge."


    Shepherd paused, watching Richard¡¯s expression darken further.


    "They effectively dismantled parts of the Millwall hooligan groups. Two Millwall fans were injured and are currently hospitalized because of the incident," he added cautiously.


    Richard¡¯s voice turned grim. "So, you¡¯re basically saying that City¡¯s point deduction wasn¡¯t because of what happened at The Den, but because of the violent aftermath after the match?"


    Shepherd nodded solemnly. "Yes."


    Richard took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the news settle heavily on his shoulders. He turned toward Shepherd and Barry. "Is there any way to get this punishment reduced? At least lessen the points deduction," he asked urgently. "Twenty five points... that¡¯s crippling. It basically ruins our chances of promotion."


    Barry exchanged a glance with Shepherd before replying, "We can certainly appeal. There¡¯s room to argue mitigating circumstances¡ªlike how the original incident wasn¡¯t City¡¯s fault. First, they made racist chants toward our black players, which should already count as additional points in our favor. And on top of that, only Materazzi got a red card, which we can argue shows clear referee bias."


    "Is that so? Then can you handle this from here?" Richard asked.


    "Leave it to us," Shepherd and Barry answered in unison, their confidence unwavering.


    "Thank you," Richard nodded, turning to Miss Heysen and Marina. "What¡¯s your take on all this?"


    "Richard, you need to make a public statement," Miss Heysen said firmly, sliding a newspaper across the table. "Many of our players are from abroad¡ªthey¡¯re likely still shaken by what happened. You need to step forward, reassure them, and make it clear that the club stands firmly behind them. They need to know they¡¯re protected."


    Richard scanned the headline, his expression darkening.


    Theo Paphitis, Millwall¡¯s chairman, was already on the defensive, declaring, "These accusations are unfair and exaggerated. Millwall fans have been unfairly targeted and painted as villains."


    Richard let out a bitter chuckle before suddenly crushing the newspaper in his hand. "Enough of this nonsense. We¡¯ll make our statement tomorrow."


    The next day, Richard¡¯s response came swiftly and firmly:


    "The facts speak for themselves. Millwall¡¯s behavior that day was unacceptable¡ªfrom the racist abuse to the violence both on and off the pitch. Manchester City were the victims here. The truth is, there was violence. There was racist abuse directed at our Black players. And for Millwall to downplay or excuse that is, in my view, completely wrong. Even our coach is currently hospitalized because of the actions of Millwall fans."


    Paphitis fired back once again, saying, "If a handful of youngsters going onto the pitch intimidates Manchester City¡¯s players, maybe they should go back to kindergarten!"


    The media quickly caught wind of the heated exchange, dubbing it a "war of words" between the two club owners. Each defended their side passionately, but their public clash only escalated tensions. The verbal sparring spilled into headlines, interviews, and press conferences.


    Still, the more attention the incident received, the better it was for Manchester City. After all, in this case, Millwall was clearly in the wrong.


    For the next three days, Manchester City were fully occupied with their appeal against the FA¡¯s harsh sanctions.


    With Martin O¡¯Neill hospitalized for a hip replacement following the chaos at The Den, Jon Roberson stepped in as the acting head coach, taking full charge of the team during this critical period.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


    While Richard was busy working, Marina entered his office. "The FA has already announced the result of our appeal. The 25-point deduction has been reduced to 10 points."


    Richard¡¯s eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he opened his desk drawer and pulled out the current First Division league table.


    1?? Derby County ¨C 94 pts - (Promotion)


    2?? Crystal Palace ¨C 93 pts - (Promotion)


    3?? Stoke City ¨C 85 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    4?? Manchester City ¨C 82 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    5?? Ipswich Town ¨C 77 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    5?? Charlton Athletic ¨C 71 pts- (Qualification for play-offs)


    6?? Stoke City ¨C 70 pts


    8?? Leicester City ¨C 63 pts


    9?? West Brom ¨C 61 pts


    ???? Norwich City ¨C 61 pts


    It looked like the only hope for City to secure promotion now was through the playoffs.


    Richard sighed with relief and renewed hope, but deep down, he knew there was something even more important to consider.


    ¡¯It seems there¡¯s no need for the Guvnors to exist anymore if all they do is harm the club,¡¯ he muttered thoughtfully, his focus shifting from points and penalties to the bigger picture ahead.

 Chapter 210: Football Hooligans? Go to Hell!

    Chapter 210: Football Hooligans? Go to Hell! Since the mid-1980s, when Prime Minister Thatcher ordered a crackdown on football hooliganism, the results became quite evident over the following decade. However, the lower-league environment in which Manchester City was located at the time gave the "Guvnors" just enough space to survive¡ªbarely. The crackdown on football hooligans also varied depending on the league level, especially after the establishment of Premier League. This corporate league naturally didn¡¯t want hooligans tarnishing its brand value. But with limited police resources across the UK and most matches taking place simultaneously on weekends, it was clear that on match days, the majority of police forces would be deployed to maintain order at Premier League games.


    As a result, the hooligan organizations affiliated with Premier League clubs were the first to be heavily targeted, followed by those connected to First Division teams.


    Richard arrived at St Thomas¡¯ Hospital in Bermondsey, London.


    Although early reports claimed that only O¡¯Neill was injured, those accounts were based on immediate eyewitness statements from the scene. They didn¡¯t reflect the later government consensus, which revealed that the actual number of injuries was significantly higher.


    The room fell silent once more, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner. Looking at everyone around him, Richard felt a wave of suffocation wash over him¡ªas if the pain of every injured person there was his own. It was the same sharp sting he remembered from crashing into the goalpost, now wrapping around him like an invisible weight.


    "Richard, are you okay?"


    Seeing him sway, Marina quickly grabbed his hand.


    "I¡¯m... yeah, I¡¯m okay," he managed, though his voice wavered.


    His eyes scanned the room once again, taking in the weary faces, and a fierce fire ignited deep within his chest, rising with a surge of restless energy.


    Without hesitation, he knew he had to get out.


    Near the hospital gate, a taxi waited by the roadside. A panicked woman burst from the car, stumbling toward the hospital entrance. Then Richard caught sight of a young man¡ªa familiar face.


    The same man who¡¯d joked and laughed with him during City¡¯s match against Brentford (Chapter 166).


    Richard quickly hid himself in the shadows. He didn¡¯t want anyone to see him.


    Initially, football hooligans no longer dared to fight near stadiums, as most football grounds in England¡ªand the surrounding areas¡ªwere now under constant surveillance. And it wasn¡¯t just the stadiums; cameras had been installed near key buildings and important public spaces throughout the city, making it nearly impossible to cause trouble without being caught.


    No one expected the Bushwackers to make a scene¡ªlet alone for the Guvnors to ambush and beat them down in public, right at London Bridge.


    The next day, the River Group was hosting a major event in Manchester, and Richard¡¯s old friend Fay¡ªknowing he wouldn¡¯t always get the chance to see him¡ªdecided to say hello.


    But when Fay arrived at Maine Road, he was taken aback. How could it be so quiet?


    With no other choice, he went up to the CEO¡¯s office¡ªand sure enough, Miss Heysen was there.


    "Oh, I actually saw Richard on my way here," she said. "He told me he needed to see a friend... hmm, what was his name again? Bennion? Yes, that¡¯s it."


    "Andrew Bennion?" The moment Fay heard the name, his expression changed. "Was he alone?" he asked sharply.


    "No¡ªhe was with Marina. Why? What¡¯s going on?"


    To her, the name Andrew Bennion meant little. But to Fay¡ªwho had lived in London and had witnessed firsthand the chaos football hooligans had brought since his days as a bookmaker¡ªit meant something very different.


    Bennion wasn¡¯t just a name. He was the organizer of the Guvnors.


    Fay groaned. "Damn football. They just can¡¯t stay out of it, can they?" He turned abruptly, already moving to chase after Richard. "If anything happens to him... damn it. We have to bring him back. Goddamn it!"


    "Hey, hey, Fay! What¡¯s going on?!"


    But Fay was already gone¡ªrunning far into the distance.


    "..."


    Ah shit, it seems like something¡¯s about to happen.


    Richard knew where these people usually gathered¡ªnone other than the bar owned by Ric Turner, the owner of MCFC BlueMoon, the Manchester City fan website.


    The car slowly stopped in front of the bar.


    "Thank you for your help," Richard said over the phone, addressing Johansson of UEFA.


    "No worries," came the reply¡ªcasual and clipped.


    The line went dead.


    Richard slowly set the phone down.


    Richard, once again, felt thankful that everything had happened in the Den, not in Maine Road. With the result of a 10-point deduction, he was already satisfied. He had achieved what he set out to do and had no further intention of extending his influence here.


    "Richard, we¡¯re here," Marina whispered quickly, glancing toward him through the rearview mirror.


    Richard nodded as he looked toward the bar. He could see shadows of people flickering against the orange glow that spilled through the windows, the light dancing like flames.


    BANG!


    Someone was suddenly thrown out of the door, shocking both Richard and Marina instantly.


    "What happened?!"


    Inside the bar, everything was in chaos.


    "Carl! Fuck! You and your blazing squad! Are you out of your mind? Didn¡¯t we already agree to a truce?!"


    But the other party wasn¡¯t listening. He kept throwing punch after punch.


    "Fuck you! Are you deaf? Didn¡¯t you hear what I just said? You scum!"


    When Richard cautiously stepped into the bar, he was taken aback.


    In the corner, two men were locked in a brutal fight¡ªand he recognized both of them.


    One was Andrew Bennion, and the other was Carl Morran. Both were organizers of Manchester City¡¯s hooligan firms¡ªand now, they were tearing each other apart.


    As Richard scanned the room, his eyes landed on Ric Turner, the bar¡¯s owner, calmly smoking by the corner. Turner caught his gaze and, recognizing him, gave a subtle nod and beckoned him over.


    "Why so calm?" Richard asked as he approached. "What exactly happened here?"


    Turner shrugged, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯ve got it all covered by insurance." He took a slow drag from his cigarette before continuing, "It¡¯s just Morran. The kid¡¯s been picking off Guvnors one by one ever since they caused that mess at London Bridge the other day."


    Richard was at a loss for words.


    Back to the fight¡ª


    Bennion grabbed Moran by the collar, his voice sharp and furious. "Carl, you promised you wouldn¡¯t interfere with what we do!"


    Morran snarled, grinding his teeth. "Yeah, I said that. But I also warned you not to drag innocent people into this mess." His eyes burned with anger. "Now I wish I¡¯d beaten every last one of you. While City¡¯s fighting tooth and nail for promotion, you lot are out there brawling with outsiders¡ªnearly ruining everything we¡¯ve worked for!"


    "You bastards! They tore the City flag to shreds! They destroyed our honor¡ª"


    "Don¡¯t you dare talk about honor around me!"


    "..."


    Richard glanced over at Turner. "Do they do this often?"


    Turner shrugged. "Yeah, but it¡¯s the first time they¡¯ve fought inside the bar."


    "Can you turn off the CCTV for me?"


    "Already done." Turner said, then something suddenly clicked in his mind. "Wait, why do you ask? What do you want to do?"


    But Richard was already walking toward the two men locked in a brutal rear naked choke, holding a bottle wrapped in tissue to avoid leaving fingerprints. Just as Morran was about to pass out from Bennion¡¯s grip, suddenly¡ª


    SMASH!


    Richard swung the bottle, smashing it against Bennion¡¯s head.


    "THIS IS FOR OUR COACH!"


    Before Bennion could react, Richard grabbed a second bottle.


    SMASH!


    "THIS IS FOR ALL THE WOMEN AND OLDER FOLKS YOU¡¯VE WRONGED!"


    SMASH!


    "THIS IS FOR STUPIDLY FIGHTING IN LONDON BRIDGE AND INNOCENT CHILDREN GETTING HURT! Is that what you call honor? THIS is your f*cking honor?"


    Richard¡¯s hands trembled as he reached for another bottle¡ªbut there were none left. He felt ashamed and guilty that he had never taken action against this group, instead waiting until such an incident happened.


    He felt remorse and anger for not being able to stop their actions in time.


    "F**king imbeciles! I regret not calling the police to have all you sons of b*tches arrested! While my team was fighting with blood and tears, you lot ruined it with your bloody brawls! And now what? Your men threw bricks that hit innocent people! You and those Millwall bastards ruined everything!"


    "..."


    Turner stood stunned and speechless, while Marina, who had been about to dial the police, froze in place.


    ¡¯Damn it... If she¡¯d known things would spiral like this, there¡¯s no way she would¡¯ve agreed to come without a bodyguard.¡¯


    The pub, which had just been as noisy as a coliseum, suddenly fell silent. Everyone stared at the newcomer in shock, and the flag they had held sacred¡ªthe sky blue banner with the Manchester City emblem and the words "Honor is my name"¡ªfell to the floor.


    Of course, the first to react were the Guvnors boys.


    "You bastards!" one of them shouted as he tore the flag in half. A hiss of outrage rippled through the crowd.


    Under the influence of alcohol, those who had drunk too much clamored to rush forward and teach the ungrateful Richard a lesson. But Bennion, who had just released Morran from a chokehold, stood up while Morran gasped for air.


    "You¡¯d better explain yourself, punk, or else! I don¡¯t give a damn who you are!" Bennion growled through gritted teeth. "This is our turf!"


    "Stop wasting time talking to him, Andrew! Let¡¯s beat him up! That bastard¡¯s gone too far!"


    "I¡¯ll send you straight to hell! Just like you tore our flag, I¡¯ll tear you to pieces!"


    "How dare you insult our honor! When we cheered for the team, you were still in your dad¡¯s balls, asshole!"


    "Sons of btches! You¡¯re all fcking bastards!"


    Bennion¡¯s men roared and shook their fists like beasts about to be unleashed from a cage. They looked fierce and abhorrent.


    Thankfully, Turner jumped in just as the tension reached its breaking point.


    "Wait¡ªwait! This is Richard Maddox!" he shouted, voice cutting through the room. "You can¡¯t lay a hand on him!"


    Richard wasn¡¯t just any man¡ªhe was the bar¡¯s biggest investor, the backbone of their operations both here and on the website, and more importantly, Britain¡¯s youngest billionaire...


    As expected, the bar fell silent once more upon realizing that the newcomer was none other than Richard Maddox. And Richard showed no fear as he faced the rowdy, drunken crowd.  S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "A kid is in critical condition in the hospital right now. If he dies, then you¡¯re all his murderers!"


    "..."


    Everyone froze in place. "What are you talking about?" was the only thing they could manage to say.


    If someone was injured in the Den, it wasn¡¯t them¡ªbecause before the Bushwackers invaded the pitch, they had already been surrounded by security and couldn¡¯t get in.


    Richard sneered coldly. "Go ahead, enjoy yourselves here in the bar, drinking and celebrating all you want. But let me tell you this¡ªwhoever threw those bricks at London Bridge yesterday, those stones hit an innocent child."


    He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room.


    "That child is now fighting for his life because of you. So don¡¯t fool yourselves thinking this is just some game. This is real. Real lives are at stake."


    The room grew heavier, the laughter fading into uneasy silence as Richard¡¯s words cut through the noise like a knife.


    Seeing the bar fall deathly silent, Richard sneered, "Football hooligans? Go to hell!"

 Chapter 211: The Outburst at the Police Station

    Chapter 211: The Outburst at the Police StationBrawling fans were nothing unusual in the United Kingdom¡ªboth the media and public had long grown numb to it. The only reason this incident drew so much attention was because the brawl erupted on London Bridge, a public place, with everyone in hoodies¡ªas if it had been planned in advance.


    At the police station, the TV crackled to life.


    [...During yesterday¡¯s English First Division match between Millwall and Manchester City, gangs from both sides clashed in an alley after the game. The brawl escalated and spilled onto London Bridge. Amid the chaos, a 12-year-old innocent boy was caught in the violence and is now in critical condition at the hospital...]


    Richard sat quietly on a bench, his coat draped over his shoulders. In the holding cells beside him, both Andrew Bennion and Carl Morran sat in separate cages, each nursing their own bruises in silence.


    Thankfully, Fay¡ªanticipating that things would spiral out of control¡ªhad already called the police in advance. Now, he and Marina paced anxiously in the station¡¯s hallway, waiting for answers and praying the situation wouldn¡¯t get any worse.


    Some of the Guvnors¡¯ boys accused Richard of attacking Andrew Bennion. But when the police tried to get statements, everyone seemed confused.


    Some said Richard smashed the bottle, while others claimed they were too drunk to see clearly. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Even Andrew Bennion and Carl Morran refused to say anything.


    "Richard Maddox," the officer said, entering Richard¡¯s cell with a sigh.


    He couldn¡¯t help but curse the guy who¡¯d been running his mouth recklessly.


    ¡¯Even if it¡¯s true, so what?¡¯ he thought.


    At the end of the day, it was just a matter of bail. Still, they had to follow protocol and formally arrest Richard, keeping him in custody around the clock until someone posted bail.


    Luckily, his lawyer showed up quickly, making things easier for everyone. They only hoped they hadn¡¯t offended him.


    "Thank you for your hard work, officer," Richard said as he stepped out of his cell.


    The officer straightened up, eager to make a good impression. "No problem at all."


    The passerby in front of the police station cautiously kept their distance, looking inside with horror, thinking the people inside were hooligans.


    Not far behind, some of the Guvnors had split into two groups¡ªone accusing, the other pretending not to remember what happened. Both sides argued fiercely over a sense of betrayal.


    "Fuck you, coward! Are you really scared of the police? How long have we been fighting them, yet you¡¯re the one who¡¯s too afraid to stand up?" one shouted, voice dripping with contempt.


    "Don¡¯t act like you¡¯re so tough!" the other shot back.


    "Fuck you!"


    "You¡¯re a damn idiot!" He couldn¡¯t hold back any longer and grabbed the other by the collar.


    "Are you out of your mind? Andrew might be able to live on the streets, but what about you? You¡¯ve got a family ¡ª kids, a wife. Do you really want to make Richard Maddox your enemy? You want Maddox to come after your family? Do you want the police breathing down your neck 24/7? I¡¯m a football fan, not some punk. Don¡¯t let your kids grow up wasted like you. Listen carefully ¡ª stay out of this, and get as far away from it as you can."


    "..."


    Richard was just about to leave the police station when he stopped. He glanced at the officer beside him, then toward the cell holding Andrew Bennion.


    "Officer, may I?"


    The officer¡¯s eyes flicked nervously as he exchanged a glance with his colleague, clearly hesitant.


    Richard then turned to Fay, who was standing behind him. "Please donate ¡ê20,000 to Stretford Police Station. Let¡¯s say Maddox Auto wants to show appreciation for all the hard work the police have done."


    Hearing the mention of the donation, the officer immediately changed his mind.


    "N-no worries, sir. Please, right this way."


    He then grabbed his keys and unlocked the cell.


    Richard stepped inside.


    Shepherd, Barry, Fay, and Marina stood outside the cell, utterly bewildered by his actions. Anxiety quickly took over. ¡¯What the hell does he want to do now?¡¯


    Who was Bennion?


    He was a tough guy¡ªthe one behind the Guvnors gang.


    No one could say anything if he suddenly went berserk. Richard had smashed a bottle over his head just like that¡ªthree times!


    Some were even questioning whether Pock¡¯s head was too tough or the bottle too fragile. Either way, he wasn¡¯t bleeding...


    Richard stood over Bennion and said, "If you weren¡¯t out there causing mayhem under the Manchester City banner, I might be more pleased."


    Bennion¡¯s expression turned cold at Richard¡¯s words. He retorted, "I¡¯m not your enemy. This is our first meeting, and you¡¯re already hostile? My father¡¯s a City fan¡ªI grew up one too. You¡¯re just some kid who recently took over City. Compared to me, don¡¯t get too full of yourself."


    Richard had no interest in banter. He sneered coldly, "Let me tell you something¡ªManchester City is mine now. I can make it soar or vanish from Manchester¡ªall at my discretion. Who do you think you are? I don¡¯t care if you call yourself a fan. If you damage City¡¯s reputation or cost me financially, I won¡¯t just lock you up¡ªI¡¯ll wipe your whole crew off Manchester. You really think I¡¯m bluffing?"


    After making his point, Richard threw his coat over his shoulder and turned to walk away, but his words left Bennion dumbstruck. Reflexively, Bennion grabbed Richard¡¯s arm, not letting him leave so easily.


    "OFFICER!!!"


    Thankfully, Marina and the other officers whose eyes never left the cell responded quickly.


    Sure enough, the police officers didn¡¯t even use their batons¡ªthey immediately shocked Bennion with a taser, catching him off guard and temporarily clouding his mind.


    "Fuck you! Are you deaf? Didn¡¯t you hear what I just said? You scum¡ªdon¡¯t dirty my clothes!" Richard cursed Bennion harshly, then turned to the officer who had tasered him.


    "This guy was the main instigator at London Bridge. Lock him up for good¡ªlet him learn his lesson before he makes more people suffer!"


    With that, he turned around and stormed off, followed closely by Marina, Shepherd, Barry, and Fay.


    They all hurried after him, still baffled by the situation. It was the first time they had ever seen Richard so furious¡ªagain and again.


    Just when they thought it was finally over, Richard came to an abrupt stop. Without a word, he turned to Shepherd, his legal solicitor, and leaned in to whisper something.


    Shepherd gave a silent nod, understanding immediately, then turned and strode back into the police station.


    Meanwhile, Richard threw open the car door and climbed in without looking back¡ªMarina, Barry, and Fay following close behind, still trying to piece together what had just happened.


    Inside the car, no one spoke.


    Richard closed his eyes, trying to process everything that had just happened. Then suddenly, he remembered something.


    "Wasn¡¯t Manchester City supposed to face Leeds today in the League Cup quarterfinals?"


    "Is that so? How did it end?"


    "Well... we were a bit occupied with your situation here¡ªwe completely forgot about the match."


    Richard nodded at that, then leaned forward slightly. "Turn on the radio."


    There was no way they lost... right?


    But for some reason, Richard had a bad feeling about it.


    Upon taking charge of Arsenal in 1986, George Graham led the team through a pre-Premier League era of glory, implementing a highly pragmatic style of play that featured a five-defender formation. Under his leadership, Arsenal won several trophies, including the European Cup Winners¡¯ Cup.


    However, one thing to remember¡ªwhile Arsenal did win trophies, their playing style was... ugh. Let¡¯s just say Arsenal didn¡¯t exactly flourish under his management. Not only did neutral fans fail to embrace the team, but even their own supporters often felt disheartened by Graham¡¯s style.


    The team¡¯s mantra became "1-0 football," and their record defense, which conceded only 18 goals during their championship season, left fans numb. Watching an Arsenal match felt akin to stepping into a library¡ªexceedingly dull.


    Now, George Graham has decided to bring that same style to Leeds United, and Richard knows... he will succeed there.


    The radio crackled with excitement.


    [...What a header from Brian Deane! Leeds United have sealed the deal! George Graham is back! He¡¯s ready¡ªno, eager¡ªto teach Manchester City a lesson they won¡¯t forget...]


    In other words, John Robertson stepped in as caretaker manager... and he lost his debut match.


    Manchester City was out of the League Cup.


    "Stop the car!" Richard suddenly shouted as a sharp thought hit him.


    "Turn around¡ªlet¡¯s go to Ric¡¯s bar."


    Fay, who was driving, glanced sideways to where Barry just shrugged in response.


    "Got it."


    With that, they quickly made a U-turn and headed back toward Ric¡¯s bar once again.

 Chapter 212: Funding the Blazing Squad and the Tifo

    Chapter 212: Funding the Blazing Squad and the TifoIn England, one true mark of a football fan¡¯s loyalty is their willingness to travel far and wide to support their team. Unlike the so-called "football hooligans"¡ªwho attend matches mainly to stir trouble and release aggression¡ªgenuine fan organizations focus on building community and passion.


    Though the "Blazing Squad" fan organization is relatively new, Richard had already launched an investigation the moment Ric Turner was recommended to him the other day.


    These young Blazing Squad members, under Carl Morran¡¯s leadership, go the extra mile¡ªorganizing well-planned trips for supporters, coordinating travel and accommodations so fans can cheer their beloved team in stadiums across the country.


    They have even almost consistently managed to rally groups of over 200 supporters to journey to East London when City faced Millwall. In other words, this group could still be saved. They could be used to organize and welcome more fans, as Morran quickly established himself as a prominent figure among the supporters.


    He is the key.


    And right now, he is waiting for Carl Morran at the bar.


    What Richard told Shepherd in front of the police station was clear: get Morran bailed out quickly and bring him to the bar. He wants to talk to him. As for Bennion, let him rot in prison.


    "Hmmm," Richard tapped his fingers on the table, deep in thought.


    Manchester City¡¯s Blazing Squad.


    This is an in-depth insight into the world of football violence. It charts the rise of one of the most notorious firms of their generation. However, from what Richard remembered, the Blazing Squad¡¯s notoriety really began to surge around 2006, when they were involved in countless battles across the country.


    Heck, even BBC TV made a special program called "Football Fight Club" to interview Carl Morran and his crew and then a documentary about Carl Morran himself!


    There¡¯s a reason why the BBC was interested in the Blazing Squad, and that¡¯s exactly what caught Richard¡¯s attention too.


    They have the brains.


    Unlike the Guvnors, who brawl anywhere and anytime they please, the Blazing Squad organize fights between rival football supporters rather than mass brawls. In other words, they changed tactics¡ªand this started a new trend in English football hooliganism.


    Modern policing techniques and CCTV have forced today¡¯s hooligans to arrange ¡¯meets¡¯ with rival fans, usually in areas far from stadiums and often involving supporters whose teams aren¡¯t even playing that day.


    The Blazing Squad are part of this new breed of football firm¡ªsmall in number but ready to travel all over the country to confront their rivals.


    The sound of the door opening rang through the bar.


    Everyone inside turned to see who had entered.


    Oh¡ªit was Ric Turner himself. Since the bar door was smashed, there was no way to close it properly.


    Ric himself, seeing Richard and his friends back at his bar, was taken aback.


    "Richard, what are you doing here? Did you forget something? More importantly, when are you getting out? And what about Carl?"


    ¡¯Sure enough, this guy cares about Morran,¡¯ Richard thought to himself.


    "Don¡¯t worry," Richard waved his hand. "He¡¯ll be here in a minute. By the way, where did you come from?"


    "Oh, I just came from the insurance company."


    "Is everything good?"


    "Yeah, just finishing up some paperwork."


    After some time spent catching up and chatting, the door creaked open again.


    Here come the devils¡ªFrank Shepherd and Carl Morran, whose face was black and blue from his fight with Andrew Bennion.


    "Oh, Carl," Turner was the first to respond, surprisingly happy to see Morran already out.


    "If I¡¯d known you were getting out sooner, I would¡¯ve visited you first instead of going to the insurance company," he lamented.


    Morran¡¯s eyebrow twitched at that¡ªbut he simply shrugged it off and instead nervously focused on Richard, who was already seated and clearly waiting for him.


    Richard pointed to the chair in front of him, and Morran obediently sat down. After all, this was the guy who had saved him when he was being choked. He couldn¡¯t help but admire how Richard had handled the whole situation with Bennion.


    "How¡¯s your boxing going? Already got any offers to turn pro?" Richard suddenly asked, catching Morran off guard. He hadn¡¯t expected that to be the first question.


    "I-It¡¯s fine," Morran replied, a bit too quickly.


    "Don¡¯t lie to me." Richard narrowed his eyes, already knowing the truth¡ªhe¡¯d heard it from Turner.


    Morran fell silent.


    Carl Morran, at this stage, was still an unlicensed boxer. He had turned down the chance to go professional¡ªnot because he lacked the talent, but because he was focused on something else: building up the Blazing Squad.


    Richard rubbed his temples as he listened to the response about this guy.


    "How many people are in the Blazing Squad?" he asked.


    "...O-one hundred and thirty."


    Impressive. To be able to gather that many people under the shadow of the Guvnors, the old gangs, and still survive until now.


    As they talked, Richard suddenly asked, "Do you like Manchester City?"


    The others fell silent, staring at Richard with puzzled expressions, while Morran looked a bit uncomfortable. At their age, filled with youthful passion, openly admitting a simple like or dislike felt almost awkward.


    "What¡¯s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Does it really take that long to answer?" Richard frowned slightly. He could share his true thoughts without any pretense.


    "I like them. My whole family does." Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Is that so?"


    "..."


    "And will you still like them in the future? Even if City fails to reach the Premier League?"


    A sudden chill seemed to ripple through Morran, as if Richard¡¯s question had touched on something deeper. It felt disturbingly sentimental.


    Morran shook his head and asked quietly, "Sir, what exactly are you getting at?"


    "Help me."


    Richard met Morran¡¯s gaze calmly, while Morran looked back, confused.


    "I want to establish an officially recognized City supporters¡¯ organization. I want a fan group with a positive image that can influence the club¡¯s reputation for the better."


    "..."


    Morran was stunned, and so were the others¡ªthey hadn¡¯t expected Richard to be thinking along those lines.


    To be honest, even if Richard personally set up such a fan organization, it would be challenging to win over the fan base. The conflicting interests between the club and its supporters often cause friction¡ªticket prices being a prime example.


    When money is involved, there¡¯s never a perfect balance. The club would always consider ticket prices reasonable, while fans would see them as too expensive. Arguing over whether tickets are worth the price feels pointless.


    Because of this conflict, Richard couldn¡¯t simply take control on his own; he needed a strong, well-organized fan group to support Manchester City.


    Guvnors? Too radical and stupid.


    The Blazing Squad? Now that¡¯s what he call real supporters.


    Most of them are young¡ªunder 20¡ªbut if you look closely, they actually organize their fights. These are people who think before they act.


    "If that¡¯s what you need, no problem. Leave it to me."


    Hearing Morran¡¯s overly confident reply, Richard rubbed his temples once again. "Are you not even thinking about your future? That kind of work doesn¡¯t come with a paycheck, you know?"


    Morran, who had been enthusiastic just moments before, suddenly froze. He scratched his head, struggling to find a response.


    So they use their brains when they are in a fight.


    With a sigh, Richard decided not to tease him further and quietly asked, "How much savings do you have?"


    Morran awkwardly rubbed his hands together, shook his head, and said nothing.


    Savings? What a joke. Between hospital visits from underground fights, he barely breaks even.


    "Have you ever heard of a tifo banner?" Richard suddenly dropped the question.


    A "tifo" is a flag or banner held up by fans during a match, derived from the Italian word "tifosi," meaning a group of sports supporters.


    The culture originated in Italy and southern Europe but has quickly spread across the continent. These banners are planned and created by supporter clubs as a unique, visual dedication to their team, a specific player, or sometimes to convey a political or social message.


    They speak to a broader energy and culture¡ªan institution caught up in wider corporate battles that, in the process, has become somewhat unhappy.


    There is also an opportunity here for some of the club¡¯s fans to question, even just a little, the aggression of their owners; the need to take destructive legal action against their own club; the corporate pursuit of victory at all costs; more lawyers; and the total commitment to the "freedom" of very rich people to control the sport.


    "You mean like AC Milan and Juventus?"


    Certainly, Morran knew about tifo banners. Italian ultras groups are famous for their passionate and creative support, pioneering many large-scale, visually impressive tifos that have inspired fans across Europe.


    Blazing Squad had also planned to create that kind of banner, but since it was expensive, the plans never materialized.


    "Yes, just like the Italian fans support their club with their banner in the derby. Manchester City will cooperate with you and authorize this banner when you bring it to Main Road."


    Occasionally, clubs themselves get involved in the planning process.


    Tifos are usually huge and visually spectacular, often featuring the club¡¯s colors and running the entire height or length of a stand.


    They can also take the form of giant mosaics, where fans hold up colored cards or materials to create a single image. Just like Borussia Dortmund¡¯s famous Yellow Wall, Liverpool¡¯s The Kop, Napoli¡¯s Curva B, and Ajax Amsterdam¡¯s South Crew, tifos bring fans together to express their passion, support, and loyalty.


    "I will support the Blazing Squad with twenty-five thousand pounds per year. I want to see the best tifos at Maine Road¡ªor at our new stadium later."


    "W-wait, you mean City is moving stadium?"


    Richard didn¡¯t answer but simply smiled. Then his smile faded, and he grew serious. "Carl, listen, too many people go through life not knowing what they want," Richard said, before continuing, "You¡¯ve already found something you love, so you better never give up on it¡ªor you¡¯ll regret it for the rest of your life."


    What Richard meant was his boxing career.


    "Now, with the funds I¡¯m providing, you no longer need to focus on raising money for your Blazing Squad. You can divide your time between managing the Blazing Squad and your boxing career," Richard said firmly.


    "But if I find out you¡¯re using this money for fights instead of banners or anything useful," Richard made a cutting throat gesture, "I will cut off your funding instantly. You hear me?"


    Carl gulped, only able to nod his head like a chicken pecking at rice. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected such a windfall ¡ª it was as if fortune had been dropped straight into his hands.


    "Good. Now, your first mission," he said, pausing briefly. "You know, thanks to Bennion and his crew, City nearly missed out on promotion tickets, right? So, your first job is..."


    He paused, then continued in a firmer tone."You¡¯re going to destroy the Guvnors ¡ª not with violence. I want Andrew Bennion, when he gets out of prison, to see that his hooligan army is already gone. Can you do that?"


    "Of course," Morran replied calmly.


    As long as there¡¯s money involved, anything can be arranged.

 Chapter 213: The Most Important Match

    Chapter 213: The Most Important MatchAnother three fixtures came and went just like that. As for Roberson¡¯s performance¡ªwell, it wasn¡¯t too bad. But for Richard, the results were far from ideal.


    First, there was a 1¨C0 home defeat to Leeds United¡ªthe league cup, out.


    Then came a 0¨C0 draw away at Huddersfield Town.


    A brief moment of relief followed with a 2¨C0 win over Grimsby Town.


    But that was quickly dampened by yet another goalless draw, this time against Sunderland.


    So, you can imagine how nervous Richard must be¡ªjust one win, two draws, and one loss in the last four matches.


    The pressure is clearly building.


    At the end of the day, it was Derby County and Crystal Palace who managed to secure promotion, while Stoke City, Manchester City, Ipswich Town, and Charlton Athletic were left to battle it out in the playoff stage.


    1?? Derby County ¨C 99 pts - (Promotion)


    2?? Crystal Palace ¨C 96 pts - (Promotion)


    3?? Stoke City ¨C 91 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    4?? Manchester City ¨C 87 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    5?? Ipswich Town ¨C 86 pts - (Qualification for play-offs)


    5?? Charlton Athletic ¨C 80 pts- (Qualification for play-offs)


    In the office, Richard called Robertson in early in the morning¡ªbefore training had even begun.


    "How¡¯s O¡¯Neill¡¯s condition?"


    "The doctor said he¡¯s doing well," Robertson replied. "He¡¯ll probably need about twelve weeks before he can resume low-impact activities though."


    That means he¡¯ll be back early next season. Richard sighed in relief at that. It¡¯s not that he underestimated the current caretaker manager¡¯s style, but if it were O¡¯Neill... well, he knew how O¡¯Neill did things. But John Robertson?


    Richard shook his head inwardly at the thought.


    O¡¯Neill was known for building strong team spirit, getting the best out of limited resources, and creating a real "siege mentality."


    In other words, he was an excellent motivator and man-manager, and he often relied on a core group of experienced players. You could clearly see how much he depended on players like the Brazilian trio, Larsson, Shevchenko, Lennon, and McNamara in every match.


    "Why don¡¯t you try Henry in your next match?"


    Robertson was taken aback and shook his head. ¡¯Henry? He can¡¯t score,¡¯ he wanted to say, but Richard didn¡¯t let him speak.


    The moment Richard saw Robertson shake his head, knowing what was on his mind, he groaned, "Why? Too weak for English football? Just like you and O¡¯Neill said?"


    Holy moly!


    Richard truly wanted to slap this guy¡¯s big forehead, but he calmed himself down and gave his reasoning, "But he knows how to assist, right? For current City, who lack creativity, Henry is the first choice to feed the striker. We can¡¯t expect Lennon to handle everything!"


    Usually, it was Ronaldo who handled everything, charging into the opponent like a beast. But since he was injured, Neil Lennon has had to take over all the creativity in midfield. Even then, there are limits to what he can do.


    ¡¯Neil Lennon is not Bruno Fernandes!¡¯ he wanted to yell but managed to stop himself just in time.


    "Listen," Richard finally gave his final advice. "You¡¯re on your own. You¡¯re not Martin O¡¯Neill. Do you want to stay forever in O¡¯Neill¡¯s shadow? Don¡¯t you want to one day manage your own team? How old are you now?"


    The moment Robertson heard that, his expression changed, but Richard didn¡¯t care.


    Seeing his silence, Richard waved his hand and dismissed him.


    Three days passed, and in those three days, Richard was busy.


    First, he had already instructed Fay to cover the hospital costs for the victims of the tragedy that occurred between Millwall and Manchester City.


    "The kid," Richard said over the phone, "you said he¡¯s from a working-class family?"


    "Yes. His father is a street cleaner, and his mother is a housewife."


    Richard closed his eyes, a wave of emotion washing over him. The situation was all too familiar¡ªhis own father had been a street cleaner, and his mother, a housewife. It was like looking into a mirror of his past.


    After a deep breath, Richard quietly said, "Help that family. Do whatever you can, and Rover Group will cover his education through college. Coordinate with Mullally on this."


    "Wait... you¡¯re not serious, are you? Richa¡ª"


    The line was already dead.


    Richard dropped his phone and could only stare at the ceiling.


    The next day, the long-awaited moment finally arrived.


    Playoff first leg: Charlton Athletic.


    No one expected Charlton Athletic to break into the top six of the First Division, but everyone had to admit their success was thanks to the new chairman, Richard Murray, who appointed Alan Curbishley as the sole manager of Charlton.


    Carl Morran and a group of over 100 fans arrived outside The Valley stadium like an army, all dressed in City¡¯s sky blue kits.


    They entered through the visiting team¡¯s entrance and stood in formation in the away stands. As is customary in matches like this, home and away supporters were kept apart.


    The Charlton fans watched nervously as Morran and his crew prepared for the encounter.


    These are City hooligans who cause chaos at The Den!


    Well, it was a harsh accusation¡ªbut no one seemed to care about the truth.


    It was no surprise that the home fans were on guard, ready to retaliate against any provocation from City. But to their surprise, they only saw the young men busy in the stands, seemingly preparing something.


    "Don¡¯t tell me they want to bomb this place?" one Charlton fan clad in red muttered.


    SLAP!


    What he got was a slap on the back of his head.


    "What¡¯s wrong with you?! Stop watching James Bond already¡ªyou¡¯ve seen it enough times for goodness¡¯ sake!"


    "Hey, shut up you two before I shut your mouths¡ªand look over there!"


    Both bantering fans quickly stopped as they were scolded by a stranger nearby. Though dissatisfied with him, they still politely followed the stranger¡¯s hand and were stunned to see what he saw.


    A banner.


    A fucking huge banner.


    "Holy shit!"


    "No matter where you go, I follow you everywhere~"


    Their voices echoed throughout The Valley stadium.


    But what stunned them most was seeing the "I FOLLOW YOU EVERYWHERE" banner.


    Before long, though, Charlton fans started singing back, and the pre-game banter between the two fan bases clearly kicked off. But everything went smoothly¡ªno violence happened, and they began to relax.


    Let them sing and display their banners¡ªas long as they didn¡¯t cause trouble and watched the match peacefully, everything would be fine.


    Before the whistle blew, Robertson had already studied Charlton¡¯s starting eleven and confirmed it matched his pre-match predictions.


    This was typical of Alan Curbishley¡¯s approach¡ªhe made the most of his available resources, but his tactics rarely allowed for surprises in formation or lineup.


    Charlton lacked strong midfield players but had a solid defense, which forced Curbishley to field a five-defender setup. He shifted his wingers into more central roles, giving them the freedom to maneuver in the attacking third.


    From the start of the match, Richard stood in the stands, hands in his pockets, watching intently.


    No Henry.


    Even Thuram was benched.


    Richard shook his head at this.


    How stubborn this guy is.


    And sure enough, as the game began, neither City nor Charlton launched an immediate attack. The ball mostly moved back and forth in both halves, and the pace was slow, suggesting it wouldn¡¯t be a particularly thrilling match.


    But then¡ªdisaster struck.


    As the first half neared its end, Charlton organized another attack. Charlton Midfielder Peter Garland passed the ball to Kevin Nicholls, who calmly controlled it. Without waiting for McNamara to close in, he sent a long diagonal ball to the left wing.


    There, Carl Leaburn brought the ball down with a beautiful chest trap.


    Robbie Savage rushed in from the side, while Gallas moved to block his path ahead.


    "Let him be!!" Richard couldn¡¯t help but shout as he saw Robbie Savage gearing up for a tackle.


    Given how emotionally unstable Savage could be, a sense of foreboding rose within Richard.


    PHWEEEE!!


    "Damn it!" Richard cursed.


    From the stands, he could clearly see what had happened.


    Gallas was already in front, blocking Leaburn. Ferdinand had begun tracking diagonally to cover Bradley Allen, Charlton¡¯s other striker. Meanwhile, Cafu and Roberto Carlos were already racing back to cover their respective zones.


    Which meant... everything was under control. It was a one-on-one situation¡ªthere was no need for that reckless challenge.


    Carl Leaburn stepped up to take the penalty. The stadium buzzed with anticipation, and Richard closed his eyes, silently praying.


    GOAL!


    The Valley erupted in cheers as Leaburn wheeled away in celebration, pumping his fists and shouting with joy. He ran to the corner flag, arms outstretched, before sliding on his knees in front of the Charlton faithful. His teammates quickly swarmed him.


    "You have to say, it was a poor decision by Savage to jump in like that¡ªCharlton didn¡¯t even have a clear opening until that reckless tackle. Now City are trailing, and Manchester City has a lot to think about in that dressing room." the commentator said.


    Richard could only sit in silence. He then picked up his phone and called someone.


    Dom¨¨nec Torrent, who was watching with the City staff, picked up his phone when he saw it was Richard calling. He quickly answered.


    But when he heard the first question, he was stunned.


    "Do you have any experience managing a senior team?"


    He was speechless hearing this. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 214: Henry’s Bizarre Goal

    As the second half was about to begin, a sense of gloom hung over the City stands. The dull first half had drained the spectators¡¯ enthusiasm, and the sudden goal had nearly broken the hearts of every City fan in attendance. Yet, over in the southern stand, something unexpected happened¡ªa synchronized applause broke out.


    Clap, clap, Manchester City!


    Clap, clap, Manchester City!


    Carl Morran led a group of a hundred young fans, clapping twice in unison before raising their hands high and shouting in chorus, "No matter where you go, I follow you everywhere~"


    Before long, the momentum spread throughout the stands, infecting every City supporter present.


    Even the broadcast cameras swept over the crowd, and the commentator exclaimed,"We¡¯re used to the lively atmosphere of City fans, but at this moment, we are witnessing their most genuine side. A voice echoes across the sky: Manchester City!"


    In the changing room, the players lowered their heads. They could hear the chants resonating around them.


    Robertson took a slow breath, his eyes moving across the room, locking onto each player.


    "We¡¯re halfway there. But we need more."


    Silence. The players listened closely.


    He pointed to Robbie Savage, Neil Lennon, and McNamara.


    "You three are doing great breaking up their midfield, but don¡¯t let them dictate the tempo. Keep them uncomfortable."


    He avoided mentioning Savage¡¯s earlier mistake. Then, turning to Roberto Carlos and Cafu:


    "You¡¯ve got their full-backs beat¡ªevery single time. Stay aggressive. Take them on. No hesitation."


    He turned to Shevchenko and Larsson: "You¡¯ve battled hard, but I need you to hold the ball up better. Keep their center-backs occupied. Draw them out."


    Finally, to the entire squad: "We planned for this. We knew how they play, and we¡¯ve exposed them. Now, we finish the job."


    The intensity in the room grew. The players nodded, exchanging determined looks.


    Robertson clapped his hands once.


    "Let¡¯s go win this."


    If Richard had been there, he would¡¯ve immediately said, ¡¯See? You can¡¯t copy O¡¯Neill¡¯s halftime talks! So stop being stubborn and listen to me!¡¯


    Waiting on the pitch for the second half to kick off ignited a fire within the hearts of the City players. This surge of passion engulfed them, transforming into a source of boundless determination. In the center circle, Larsson and Shevchenko locked eyes¡ªserious expressions on their faces, yet filled with mutual encouragement.


    Standing before the coaching bench, Robertson maintained a stoic face, but inside, he felt both nervous and grateful to whoever the City fan was who organized the chant and clapping.


    What they were witnessing was a promising start.


    Amidst the thunderous cheers, the referee blew the whistle, signaling the beginning of the second half.


    PHWEEEE!!!


    Manchester City kicked off, passing the ball back before spreading out into an attacking formation.


    The ball moved back and forth in midfield until it found Lennon, who had created some space in the attacking third. Positioned on the right side of midfield, he took the ball confidently, turned, and without hesitation, rolled it toward the right flank.


    Cafu made a run, but Charlton¡¯s left back, Dean Chandler¡ªwho had tightly marked him in the first half¡ªwas already close by, confidence evident on his face.


    It was clear from his movements that he intended to intercept the ball the moment Cafu prepared to receive it, a tactic that had worked several times in the first half.


    A vital aspect of tight marking is familiarizing oneself with the opponent¡¯s favored foot¡ªforcing them to use their weaker side or, even better, restricting their movement area.


    For instance, if a player likes to get to the byline, cut off that route. If they excel at cutting inside, force them toward the sidelines. So Chandler seemed to be just waiting for Cafu to take a touch with his right foot to strike.


    Unexpectedly, Cafu extended his right foot for a touch, but instead of stopping the ball as everyone expected, he flicked it back toward Lennon in the center.


    Caught off guard, Chandler reacted too late. Lennon seized the moment and darted past him, while he scrambled to recover.


    Just as Chandler turned to look for Lennon, the ball suddenly returned to Cafu, who was already charging forward.


    The sudden one-two left Brown completely disoriented.


    Thankfully, Charlton already knew their mission: to park the bus!


    When Cafu made a cross toward the goal, Shevchenko and Larsson struggled to break through the many Charlton players blocking them.


    The beautiful one-two became wasted, as no goal came from it.


    Richard slumped in his chair, deeply disappointed.


    For the next thirty minutes, City¡¯s few attempts at organizing attacks were all thwarted by Charlton¡¯s defense, which had a clear numerical advantage in their backline.


    Charlton naturally knew that since the second leg would be played at Maine Road, it was better to secure their advantage now.


    On the City sidelines, Robertson remained stoic until Dom¨¨nec Torrent patted his shoulder.


    "What¡¯s happening?" Robertson asked.


    "Do you think it¡¯s time to change the striker?" Torrent replied. "We¡¯ve been pressing for thirty minutes, but Larsson and Shevchenko haven¡¯t made an impact. We need more creativity and sharper finishing up front."


    Robertson was suddenly taken aback by this suggestion.


    "Creativity...?" he echoed, the word resonating deeply within him.


    It was familiar¡ªtoo familiar.


    His mind flashed back to his previous conversation with Richard, the passionate arguments about the need for ingenuity and vision on the field.


    His eyes then settled on Thierry Henry, who was quietly sitting and watching the match intently.


    "Thierry!"


    Henry, who had been waiting on the sidelines, was shocked by the sudden shout, but then finally heard the words he had been waiting for: You¡¯re in!


    Because they wanted to chase the equalizer, the best choice was to keep Shevchenko and Larsson on the field and instead take Robbie Savage off.


    "Tell Shevchenko to move to the right. You take the left, and Larsson stays in the center. Now switch the formation to 4-3-3."


    Henry was disappointed by this. He began to regret his decision to join City. Wasn¡¯t he promised to play as a striker? So why was he being pushed out to the left wing again? Yet, he kept his frustration to himself, not voicing his doubts aloud.


    With Savage out, the formation changed to:


    GK: Lehmann


    DF: Cafu, Ferdinand, Gallas, Roberto Carlos


    MF: Jackie McNamara, Neil Lennon, Van Bommel


    FW: Shevchenko, Larsson, Henry


    "Manchester City make a change¡ªThierry Henry comes on for Robbie Savage. What do you think about that, Mark?"


    "Well, to be honest with you, I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll change much for City. If I¡¯m being blunt, I just don¡¯t see this making a real impact¡ªnow or in the future."


    "Harsh words! You¡¯re not convinced by Henry at all? City paid ¡ê5 million for him!"


    "That¡¯s exactly what I don¡¯t understand. ¡ê5 million for a forward who¡¯s only managed 20 goals in 105 appearances? That¡¯s not exactly prolific. That¡¯s one goal every... what, five games?"


    "So you¡¯re saying City paid more for vibes than goals?"


    "Exactly. He¡¯s fast, he¡¯s flashy¡ªbut this isn¡¯t a fashion show. This is English football. In every match, you need end product, not just pace."


    "Well, let¡¯s see if Henry hears you from here and proves you wrong on the pitch."


    "I¡¯d love to eat my words. But as it stands? City need a mira¡ª"


    GOOOAAAALLLL!!!


    The commentator, named Mark, shut his mouth instantly. His words caught in his throat as he stared wide-eyed at the pitch.


    Because the player wheeling away in celebration¡ªthe very one he had just mocked¡ªwas none other than Thierry Henry.


    It was him.


    The same player he had dismissed as overhyped, overpriced, and underperforming. The same man he claimed wouldn¡¯t make a difference.


    "How¡­ how is that possible?!"


    Not even a minute!!!


    The stadium roared. City fans erupted, their voices echoing like thunder across The Valley. Meanwhile, the commentator sat frozen, headphones still on, mouth half-open.


    "Well, Mark¡­ would you like that slice of humble pie now or after the replay?"


    Mark exhaled¡ªbut said nothing.


    Two minutes earlier¡­


    Taking advantage of a throw-in opportunity, Robertson shouted instructions to his players. As they looked back, he gestured with his hands¡ªtwo fingers pointed forward, followed by a spreading motion, then clenched fists brought together.


    The three attackers up front nodded in response, signaling they understood the plan.


    Alan Curbishley, standing on the home team¡¯s bench, wore a slightly puzzled expression.


    After the ball was thrown in, The two wingers, Henry and Shevchenko, dropped deeper into midfield. After a quick combination with Lennon in the center, both of them cut inside toward the penalty area.


    Behind them, Roberto Carlos and Cafu pushed high up the flanks, forcing the Charlton players to stay wide and preventing them from flooding the middle.


    Seeing this unfold, Curbishley¡¯s heart sank. From his point of view, there was a clear gap.


    "Drop back! Tighter, tighter!" he shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. "Close the space!"


    It was clear that only one central defender, Steve Brown, remained in the center of the penalty area. Stuart Balmer and Phil Chapple had been drawn out by Henry and Shevchenko. Even the fullbacks and midfielders¡ªsomehow¡ªwere pulled towards Cafu and Roberto Carlos.


    Curbishley slapped his forehead. He suddenly remembered how, halfway through the first half, when he switched to a 5-3-2 formation, he had instructed two players to mark Roberto Carlos and Cafu.


    Now, his tactic had backfired!


    Basically, five City players suddenly pushed forward, stretching Charlton¡¯s defense without them realizing it. They all lost their marking as a result.


    Henry and Shevchenko cut inside toward the center, while their wide roles were taken over by Roberto Carlos and Cafu.


    When Lennon had the ball, Steve Brown hesitated between blocking him or dropping back. Behind him, Shevchenko was clearly moving freely but the ball was with Lennon, so he decided to trust his instincts and stay safe.


    This threw Lennon¡¯s plan off because if he took the bait and advanced with the ball, Larsson would be nearly one-on-one with the goalkeeper.


    Still, seeing this, he calmed himself and looked left and right before suddenly Cafu¡ªwho was literally being marked by three players¡ªburst forward, his hand moving in a beckoning gesture for the ball.


    Without hesitation, Lennon made a sideways pass to Cafu.


    The three players behind Cafu chased after him, ready to foul, but unexpectedly, Cafu didn¡¯t even hold onto the ball. Instead, he immediately chipped it toward far post area.


    Defending for nearly thirty minutes had already drained Brown¡¯s stamina, and he was sweating profusely. He saw the ball flying far away and thought it was going out as it sailed over his head, so his eyes remained on the ball above him.


    But from the corner of his eye, as he followed the ball, he noticed a figure flashing past him.


    F¡ªuck!


    Thierry Henry!


    The two wingers had seamlessly outplayed their defenders, hardly ever taking a break¡ªespecially Henry, who was literally fresh throughout.


    After the ball was chipped into the box, Henry had only Charlton¡¯s goalkeeper, Mike Salmon, to beat!


    Henry didn¡¯t hesitate; he struck the ball directly!


    Robertson and the staff watched the play unfold from the sidelines, already envisioning Henry scoring.


    But Henry mis-hit it!


    He swung his leg gracefully, but the ball and his foot didn¡¯t connect perfectly¡ªinstead, his shin struck the ball.


    Mike Salmon, anticipating the shot, was already closing in and made a Spiderman-like save, leaving no chance for the ball to get through.


    Expecting Henry to volley powerfully toward the center, he stayed central and spread his hands and feet as wide as possible.


    But no one expected the ball to take such a bizarre trajectory.


    Instead of a clean volley, Henry struck the ball on its upper edge, causing it to spin and float slowly through the air.


    Slow.


    Gentle.


    It hovered just above Salmon¡¯s head, teasingly out of reach¡ªalmost mocking him.


    Salmon wanted to reach it, but the only thing that could reach the ball was his eyes, which remained locked on it.


    Richard clutched his head in disbelief, his eyes wide with shock. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "That goal should¡¯ve been a contender for the Pusk¨¢s Award!" he exclaimed, unable to hide his amazement.


    He couldn¡¯t clearly see what was happening, but surely even an amateur keeper could have saved this shot?


    It was so damn slow.


    But Salmon had already made a web with his body, veins and eyes bulging as he slowly raised his head to watch the ball¡ªjust spinning above him, drifting feather-light into the goal.


    GOAL!!!


    "The ball¡¯s in! Henry has opened the scoring for Manchester City with an incredibly bizarre goal! He was at the far post with no one near him. Cafu saw him and then made a perfect chip, putting Henry in an ideal shooting position. But instead of using his foot, Henry struck the ball with his shin! The ball, with a significant spin, floated gently into Charlton¡¯s net. There¡¯s no denying that luck played a big part in this goal...!"


    Henry, who had fallen to the ground after his failed shot, was heartbroken. He had slipped because he didn¡¯t make solid contact with the ball. But as he sat up and saw the ball resting inside the net, he was stunned.


    He wanted to ask the goalkeeper, ¡¯I messed up, but what were you doing?¡¯


    Mike Salmon, after tumbling to the ground, looked up in shock¡ªjust like Henry.


    Henry then got up, rubbing his backside as he was swarmed by his teammates on the bench, especially his first friend at City, who was celebrating the goal.


    "Thierry, when did you learn to shoot with your shin? Teach me sometime!" said David Trezeguet.


    Amidst laughter, City¡¯s players began retreating to their half.


    Richard experienced a rollercoaster of emotions¡ªexpectation, disappointment, then surprise¡ªbefore finally breaking into a grin.


    "We¡¯ll be waiting for you at Maine Road!"

 Chapter 215: The Bread and Butter of Modern-Day Football

    No one had expected Manchester City¡¯s wingers¡ªHenry and Shevchenko¡ªto work together so seamlessly to deceive Charlton Athletic¡¯s defense.


    Although City¡¯s previous matches had shown their tendency to attack from the flanks, it was usually through Cafu or Roberto Carlos. In the First Division, when wingers participated in the attacks, it was mostly to create space or support the main striker.


    The primary threat still came from wide areas. But never before had two wingers connected directly in such a way.


    Manchester City had just shown the public that they were now playing Premier League-level football.


    Tactically, Premier League teams had already started moving away from the traditional striker role¡ªno longer relying solely on a target man or poacher to stay in the penalty box.


    Take Manchester United under Alex Ferguson, the current leaders of the Premier League¡ªthey didn¡¯t just whip crosses into the box from the wings. Instead, they often relied on wide-ranging, precise long passes or intricate combinations around the box as their main attacking strategies.


    Later, more and more teams would adopt this kind of tactics. But in the rough-and-tumble world of the First Division, such tactical sophistication was rare¡ªsimply because the overall skill level of the players was lower.


    Even Robertson was taken aback by what had just unfolded. He had never expected that playing Henry would have such an immediate and profound impact. It was the entire attacking unit working in perfect sync.


    With the score tied 1¨C1, Robertson urged his players to stay composed. He knew that a draw at Valley Stadium was as good as taking the lead¡ªbecause the second leg would be played at Maine Road.


    PHWEEEE!!!


    "That¡¯s the final whistle! What a spectacular match we¡¯ve just witnessed tonight! A dramatic ending ¡ª and who could forget that goal from Thierry Henry? Absolutely bizarre, almost comical! Mark, what¡¯s your take on that?"


    Mark, the co-commentator who had doubted Henry earlier, gritted his teeth as he answered, "Naturally, I didn¡¯t expect that at all. I still think it was a fluke ¡ª just pure luck. Right place, right time. It wasn¡¯t... intentional."


    "Oh, is that so? What if he does it again in the second leg?"


    "...Hundred pounds?"


    "Hundred pounds it is! You all heard that! Mark¡¯s putting money on the line! If Henry scores again in the second leg ¡ª someone¡¯s wallet might be a little lighter!"


    The moment Richard heard the final whistle, he immediately grabbed his coat and left Valley Stadium.


    The next match would determine whether City could make the final playoff or not.


    Inside his Porsche, just before starting the engine, Richard made a quick call ¡ª his first, to Carl Moran of the Blazing Squad.


    The moment the call connected, a voice on the other end responded crisply, "Sir!"


    Richard leaned back slightly, satisfied.


    Throughout the grueling 90 minutes, Morran¡¯s squad had rallied with relentless energy, pushing City forward and keeping the players sharp, fired up by their unwavering support.


    "Good job," Richard said simply, but with unmistakable approval in his tone.


    Hearing the praise, Mark Moran couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    "Thank you, sir."


    After putting the phone down, Richard started his Porsche and drove toward Maine Road.


    RING~


    Just as Richard¡¯s foot hovered over the gas pedal, his phone rang again, slicing through the stillness of the moment. He glanced at the screen¡ªDave Fevre.


    He answered quickly.


    "Dave, this is Richard."


    "Thank god you picked up," Fevre replied, relief palpable in his tone.


    Richard frowned. "What¡¯s going on?"


    "Are you still at Charlton?" Fevre asked urgently.


    "Yeah, I¡¯m still at Valley Stadium. Why?"


    There was a brief pause on the line. Then Fevre said, "Can we meet? Just for a moment. I want to introduce someone to you."


    Richard was taken aback by this.


    "Alright. Where should we meet?"


    Fevre gave him the location of a small caf¨¦ not far from the stadium.


    "I¡¯ll be there soon," Richard said, ending the call.


    Without wasting another moment, he shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.


    The drive was short, and within minutes, Richard arrived at the caf¨¦. He stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly. His eyes scanned the room¡ªand there he was. Dave Fevre, sitting at a small table near the window.


    Richard walked over and greeted him, "Aren¡¯t you supposed to be with the team? The match just ended, and isn¡¯t the head physio supposed to be with the players to make sure nothing¡¯s wrong post-game?"


    "Don¡¯t worry," Fevre said with a small chuckle, waving a hand dismissively. "Andreas agreed to cover for me today. It¡¯s nothing urgent¡ªjust a quick meeting. Sit down. There¡¯s someone I want you to meet."


    Only then did Richard remember¡ªDave had mentioned wanting to introduce someone to him.


    The man they had been talking about stepped forward respectfully and extended his hand toward Richard.


    "Mr. Maddox, very pleased to meet you. My name is Ramm Mylvaganam."


    "Yes, nice to meet you too," Richard replied, immediately shaking his hand.


    Curiosity got the better of him as he looked at the man and let his intrusive thought slip out: "By the way, sir, are you Indian?"


    It came off a little disrespectful, though Richard didn¡¯t mean it that way. From what he knew, many top global companies¡ªespecially in tech¡ªhad Indian CEOs. So he was merely curious; perhaps there was something surprising in this situation.


    Mylvaganam chuckled. "Many people ask me that, but my family is currently living quite well in Sri Lanka. I¡¯m only in the UK to further my education."


    So, he was of Tamil origin. Richard couldn¡¯t help but feel a mix of sympathy and respect toward this man¡ªfar from home and family. But Richard also didn¡¯t judge people by their background; he understood that those who had faced pressure or endured hardship often developed an extraordinary drive.


    Sometimes, they didn¡¯t just give 100%¡ªthey gave 1000%.


    "Ramm is my friend from when I worked at Wigan," Fevre added. "He¡¯s a consultant at Mars now. Yesterday, he contacted me and asked to meet you. At first, I was going to say you¡¯re busy, but when I heard his reason for wanting to speak with you, I figured you¡¯d probably want to hear it too. So, I could only call to make a bet."


    Now Richard was truly curious. He turned to Mylvaganam, waiting for his explanation.


    Mylvaganam coughed lightly, looking slightly embarrassed before leaning in toward them."To be honest, it wasn¡¯t me¡ªit was actually Dave who brought it up. He mentioned that his current club is on the verge of being promoted to the Premier League and wants to find a way to stay there."


    "..."


    Seeing both Richard and Fevre fall silent only made Mylvaganam more self-conscious.Noticing this, Fevre sighed and decided to support his old friend. He turned to Richard.


    "Do you know what he asked me?"


    Richard shook his head.


    "He asked, ¡¯How do you monitor the performance of your players?¡¯"


    "..."


    "Isn¡¯t it your dream to build a dedicated performance analysis division for the team?"


    The moment Richard heard that, his expression shifted¡ªhe instantly became serious before he managed to hold back and instead smiled. "Simple. I know who¡¯s good, bad, and ugly, so I don¡¯t need to do stuff like that."


    "Is that so?"


    Fevre then couldn¡¯t help but jump in. "Ramm, what do you have in mind?"


    At that point, Mylvaganam explained, "In business, we focus on understanding people and how they work. Because if you don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve got and how they function, you can¡¯t decide how to train them."


    "Indeed," Richard replied simply.


    After that, it was this simple conversation that led to the self-described "chocolate salesman gone wrong" giving a business lesson to billionaire Richard¡ªmaking even Fevre¡¯s mouth twitch.


    "I felt the only way football clubs were going to collect this data was to tag players on the field and convert their movements into job descriptions. At that point, you know what you expect the player to do and can train them accordingly."


    Richard frowned at the word "data," as he himself was very sensitive about it. No one noticed this, and Mylvaganam himself continued his rambling.


    "Mr. Maddox, what if I told you there was a way to streamline the process and provide Manchester City with more accessible footage? What if there was a way to deliver accurate performance data at a time when GPS tracking was basic and inaccurate to the point of being useless?"


    Richard knew the limitations of current technology¡ªGPS could only track within about 10 meters.


    But then he heard Mylvaganam say, "What if I have a way to track a ball that¡¯s only 35 centimeters wide? Please take a look at this, sir." Before handing Richard a document.


    ¡¯So, it¡¯s all about pitching business, right?¡¯ Richard thought inwardly as he grabbed the document


    With an embarrassed expression, Mylvaganam said, "Not everyone was that interested. Some thought it was just a fad that would disappear soon. I tried as much as I could to convince those who were open, but there wasn¡¯t any point in trying to push water uphill."


    "Oh, have you already offered this to other clubs?"


    "Yes, I have. This software was used by Derby County this season. But despite their interest, Derby didn¡¯t want to pay for it. They said it was unproven and still in its infancy."


    "Manchester United¡¯s Alex Ferguson, to be honest, was quite happy about it, but their chief executive, David Gill, took the same attitude as Derby toward investing in this product. They said they didn¡¯t know enough about the system, so they weren¡¯t going to pay me for it ¡ª at least, not straight away."


    With a sigh, Mylvaganam said dejectedly.


    ¡¯Interesting. Even Alex Ferguson was interested in this?¡¯ Richard asked, then opened the document and read the name of the software based on Mylvaganam¡¯s introduction.


    The name of the product was ¡¯Professional Zone,¡¯ which was very unfamiliar to Richard despite his extensive experience in football.


    Richard let out a quiet sigh¡ªjust another business pitch. What is it now? he thought. He reached for his glass of orange juice, ready to down it in one go, when Mylvaganam continued, almost casually:


    "I plan to call the product Prozone. It¡¯ll be easier for people to refer to."


    The moment Richard heard the word Prozone, he choked and spluttered his orange juice.


    "What¡­ what did you just say?"


    "Oh, it¡¯ll be easier to refer to."


    "No, no¡ªbefore that."


    "Prozone?"


    "You mean... you created Prozone?"


    Because Richard knew Prozone (also known as Prozone Sports) was a sports performance analysis company that became famous for pioneering the use of data analytics in football.


    It was one of the first to introduce detailed statistical and video analysis to professional football, including video tracking, player movement and positioning data, as well as fitness and work-rate analysis.


    Liverpool famously invested heavily in this area. Otherwise, in the future, when the club¡¯s top executives had three candidates in mind to replace Brendan Rodgers: 1) Eddie Howe, 2) Carlo Ancelotti, and 3) J¨¹rgen Klopp.


    Yes, Klopp was literally number three or even hadn¡¯t yet managed to catch the attention of Liverpool¡¯s top executives.


    So why was Klopp suddenly chosen?


    It¡¯s a very famous story, considering the success Klopp brought to Liverpool. Richard knew exactly the answer, because it wasn¡¯t far from Prozone.


    SLAP! S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard slapped his forehead. No wonder Derby County suddenly got so good so fast and were tipped to become the First Division champions. They had been using this technology all along.


    How stupid of them not to be willing to pay for it!

 Chapter 216: Patience and Counter

    Richard definitely knew about Prozone¡ªthe name itself had become synonymous with pioneering data analytics in football. But he didn¡¯t know the people behind it, so he decided to be cautious. He needed to make sure he had the right person in front of him.


    "Please come to Maine Road," Richard said. "You¡¯ll be most welcome¡ªManchester City will be playing Charlton Athletic in the second leg of the playoffs."


    "Of course, I¡¯ll be there," Mylvaganam replied with a smile. At least it wasn¡¯t an outright rejection¡ªor someone looking to get a free ride off his product. It was a start.


    With that, Richard nodded politely and rose from his seat. He didn¡¯t waste any more time¡ªhe headed straight back to Manchester.


    The journey from Charlton to Manchester typically took between three and a half to four hours, depending on the traffic. By the time the city lights of Manchester came into view, Richard had already made a decision: he needed to hold an emergency meeting with John Robertson.


    Richard didn¡¯t bother going to his office the moment he arrived at Maine Road. Instead, he headed straight to the squad¡¯s training ground.


    As he turned the corner near the physio wing, he unexpectedly crossed paths with Ronaldo ¡ª moving slowly, supported by a pair of crutches.


    Richard paused before greeting him. "Ronaldo," he said, stepping forward and placing a reassuring hand on the forward¡¯s shoulder. "How are you feeling?"


    "A little better," Ronaldo replied. "But I still can¡¯t run. They say I need another two weeks before I can even touch the ball again."


    Richard nodded thoughtfully. "You have to be patient. It¡¯s not just about recovering ¡ª it¡¯s about recovering the right way."


    Ronaldo looked down at his crutches, then back up with a sigh. "I miss being on the pitch."


    "I know," Richard said. "And the team misses you. But we¡¯d rather wait two weeks for the real Ronaldo than rush you back at fifty percent."


    The striker gave a small nod, and Richard gave him a final pat on the back. "Keep going. You¡¯re almost there."


    Done with Ronaldo, Richard knocked firmly on the coaching staff room door.


    Once inside, he got straight to the point.


    First, he asked about Materazzi and Robbie Savage¡¯s condition, especially their mental state after the two fatal mistakes they made in the recent matches


    Regarding Materazzi, Richard had reviewed the CCTV footage from after the match. Rather than displaying fury, Materazzi quietly removed his jersey and sat alone on the bench in front of his locker. That silence spoke volumes¡ªit was a worrying sign.


    "He¡¯s disappointed," Steve continued. "Feels like he let everyone down."


    An attacking player can fail repeatedly for ninety minutes but still become a hero with just one moment of success. Meanwhile, a defender can perform consistently well throughout the match, yet a single mistake can turn them into a scapegoat.


    That¡¯s the reality of football.


    "What about Robbie?" Richard then asked, especially after that unnecessary tackle that cost City a penalty.


    "Robbie?"


    The staff, like Steve Walford and Terry Genoe, looked at each other before saying, "It seems like nothing happened."


    Richard narrowed his eyes but said nothing. "Where¡¯s John?" he then asked.


    "He¡¯s out on the gym doing some personal training with the players."


    Richard nodded thoughtfully and decided to abandon his plan for the meeting.


    Originally, he wanted to give a harsh ultimatum, but after hearing this, he decided not to add pressure and avoided breaking the already tense situation.


    His offer to the current youth manager, Dom¨¨nec Torrent, to replace Robertson as caretaker was declined. Although it was undoubtedly a significant opportunity, Torrent felt it would be ethically wrong to step in under those circumstances.


    Richard understood his decision and chose to respect it.


    In the following days, another playoff match between Stoke City and Ipswich Town delivered an unexpected result. Ipswich Town defeated Stoke City 3-0 in the first leg at Stoke City¡¯s home ground!


    With this victory, Ipswich Town was now one step closer to Wembley.


    Four days later at Maine Road, Richard was already seated with Mylvaganam as his guest, and they were already discussing Prozone.


    "How did you come up with this idea?" Richard asked curiously.


    "Oh, that¡­ I just saw the Derby manager trawling through VHS recordings of their own games, cutting segment after segment. Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s a hugely laborious process?"


    Richard agreed. In O¡¯Neill¡¯s staff, the ones who did that were usually Steve Walford and Robertson. But now, with O¡¯Neill injured, Robertson had taken his place, leaving Walford as the only person capable of doing the analysis.


    The result? Walford¡¯s eyes were clearly puffy ¡ª he must not have slept at all.


    "I asked him why he didn¡¯t get someone else to do the work for him," Mylvaganam continued. "He told me there was no one else. He knew what he was looking for, so it was down to him to filter out the good, the bad, and the ugly."


    Mylvaganam went on, "That¡¯s why they started to use more of my products. But at the end of the day, they were interested yet reluctant to fully pay for it."


    "Do you know why they were reluctant?"


    Mylvaganam shrugged. "Because my plan was to video every match with multiple cameras ¡ª a minimum of six and a maximum of eight. They would track the movement of each player every 0.1 seconds, and the range of camera angles would increase the accuracy of the results."


    "How much did you ask them for?"


    "¡ê100,000 to around ¡ê300,000, depending on how much detail they wanted."


    Richard was surprised by this ¡ª the price seemed quite reasonable, especially considering that this kind of technology had helped Derby County climb to the top of the First Division.


    Of course, that might not have happened if City hadn¡¯t had that incident at The Den earlier.


    Mylvaganam coughed, "Well, that was only the cost for the product, not the other equipment. I also told them we would need a lot of internet bandwidth and would have to employ image recognition and programming experts. But yeah, you know..."


    While they were deep in discussion, the gates opened and fans began to pour in.


    As expected, with City playing at home, the energy around Maine Road felt unmistakably electric.


    "Wembley, Wembley!~"


    "We¡¯re the famous Man City and we¡¯re going to Wembley~"


    "This is a nice atmosphere." Mylvaganam was surprised at this.


    "I know, right?" Richard said, proud of it.


    When both teams began entering the pitch, Richard sighed in relief ¡ª it seemed Robertson had finally come to his senses.


    GK: Lehmann


    DF: Cafu, Gallas, Ferdinand, Roberto Carlos


    MF: Zambrotta, Lennon, Van Bommel, McNamara


    FW: Larsson, Henry


    PHWEEEE!


    The moment the match kicked off, Maine Road came alive.


    The roar of the home crowd reverberated through the stadium ¡ª a relentless wave of noise that seemed to press down on the Charlton players before they had even touched the ball.


    Charlton had altered their tactics, opting for a high press and a more attacking approach.


    Robertson had expected this. They wanted to snatch an early goal, take the aggregate lead, and then turtle their way through the rest of the match ¡ª just like they had done earlier.


    So, in the first thirty minutes, Charlton began trying to loft the ball into the penalty area from the flanks, attempting to use headers to break through City¡¯s defense.


    Thankfully, with Gallas, Ferdinand, Zambrotta and Van Bommel joining in defense, they hardly faced any direct challenge from their strikers yet.


    After failing to score despite numerous attempts, Alan Curbishley stood anxiously on the Charlton sideline.


    One of the most common features of football matches is this: if a team fails to convert several chances, they are likely to concede sooner or later.


    Charlton, playing away in the second leg, could not afford to concede first! S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In the 12th minute, Charlton¡¯s Phil Chapple attempted another breakthrough. He managed to send a long pass into City¡¯s penalty area just before Gallas could close in to challenge.


    The trajectory of the ball was promising, landing right around the penalty spot¡ªa perfect opportunity for Carl Leaburn and Garry Nelson to dart in and head it. And they indeed dashed towards the ball, making City fans hold their breath.


    Thankfully, Lehmann punched the ball clear first, making the fans exhale in relief as applause erupted from the stands.


    "Oh no! That¡¯s a City counterattack! The ball has landed at Van Bommel¡¯s feet!"


    Charlton had been growing into the game, with their midfield finding more pockets of space. Their defensive line was pushed very high at the moment, as they went all-out in attack.


    Larsson, playing as the attacking midfielder, had started dropping deeper, looking to pull the strings.


    Under pressure, Van Bommel didn¡¯t dare make a hasty pass. Passing wasn¡¯t his forte ¡ª tackling and winning the ball was. After receiving the ball from Lehmann, which landed right in front of him, he calmly passed it back toward Ferdinand without even bothering to turn around.


    Ferdinand, who could clearly see Larsson already signaling for the ball, wasted no time. He immediately passed it toward Cafu, who then launched a diagonal ball over the top, slicing it right through the crowded pitch.


    All the Charlton players could only watch as the ball soared high through the air¡ªthen, suddenly, panic. They turned and realized with a jolt: the space behind them was wide open.


    Steve Brown, the captain, immediately threw up his hand and shouted, "Offside! That¡¯s offside!"


    But the linesman on the far side didn¡¯t raise his flag.


    No offside.


    Crap!


    It took a second for everyone to register what was happening.


    By the time they reacted, Larsson was already gone, and Henry had already taken off the moment Larsson touched the ball.


    Thierry Henry and Henrik Larsson VS Mike Salmon¡ª even a five-year-old could guess the outcome.


    Larsson burst through the empty space with Henry on his left.


    Mike Salmon charged out of his box in desperation, arms spread wide, trying to narrow the angle.


    Larsson didn¡¯t panic. He took one touch, then another¡ªhead up, watching the keeper rush at him like a freight train.


    And just as Salmon lunged to intercept, Larsson slid the ball sideways.


    A soft, simple pass¡­ into open space.


    And who was there?


    Thierry Henry, of course.


    Running in like it was scripted. No defenders in sight. The goal wide open.


    Henry calmly tapped the ball in.


    GOAL!


    The stands erupted¡ªa wave of noise crashing down from every corner of Maine Road.


    Up in the commentary booth, as usual, the banter began immediately. Someone could already be seen pulling out a hundred-pound note from his wallet.


    Mark gritted his teeth. "That shouldn¡¯t even count! Larsson could¡¯ve scored himself, but he gave it to Henry! That goal wasn¡¯t even from Henry¡¯s effort."


    His co-commentator shrugged. "Doesn¡¯t matter. The bet was whether Henry would score¡ªand he did. What¡¯s wrong? Not happy? Want to bet again?"


    Mark could only shut his mouth in defeat.

 Chapter 217: Got Caught in a Comeback

    Though the first half of the match was largely one-sided, with Charlton firmly in control, it was City who came out on top¡ªthanks to a brilliantly executed counterattack.


    With that, the first half ended with Manchester City leading 1¨C0 against Charlton Athletic, and Maine Road was absolutely buzzing.


    After the laughter died down, Robertson raised his hand to signal the players to quiet down and focus on the tactical briefing.


    Standing in front of the tactical board, he pointed out the positioning of the opposing defenders and calmly explained.


    "Charlton¡¯s attackers spent most of the first half around the penalty area, and their defense pushed high up the pitch. In the second half, I¡¯m certain they¡¯ll do the same¡ªmaybe even more aggressively. So your task is simple: just like with the first goal, we want to catch them off guard on the counterattack. Understood?"


    "Yes, Coach!" everyone roared in unison.


    At Maine Road, the chants were truly electric.


    "Wembley, Wembley!~"


    "We¡¯re the famous Man City and we¡¯re going to Wembley~"


    Twenty thousand sky-blue fans packed the stands, and it was the home section¡ªfilled with City supporters¡ªthat made the most noise. Their chants echoed across the stadium, a relentless reminder to Charlton that this was a battle.


    A few minutes in, and Robertson could sense something was wrong. Charlton¡¯s early attempts to organize attacks were all snuffed out by City¡¯s defense, but still¡ªsomething didn¡¯t sit right.


    "Why the sudden change?" he pondered.


    He couldn¡¯t help but put himself in Alan Curbishley¡¯s shoes. When you¡¯re trailing 1¨C0 in the second leg, you definitely don¡¯t want to play conservatively. At the very least, you¡¯d aim to get a draw and take it to penalties, right?


    Robertson remained on the sidelines, hands in his pockets, occasionally glancing at Alan Curbishley.


    The match¡¯s momentum was clearly against Charlton. How could he not see it? Then why was he still so calm?


    As the game approached the 60th minute, Charlton finally organized their first real attack of the second half.


    Defensive midfielder Peter Garland passed the ball to Kevin Nicholls, who settled it quickly and, without waiting for any City players to close in, launched a long ball to the left wing.


    There, Carl Leaburn brought it down with a beautiful chest trap.


    Van Bommel rushed in from the side, while Cafu positioned himself to block his path ahead.


    Robertson stood on the sideline, watching closely. Suddenly, a red blur streaked past behind Van Bommel, darting into his blind spot.


    Every City fan who realized what was happening felt their heart skip a beat. No one had seen him make the run¡ªit happened so suddenly.


    Who was that?


    Richard, from the stands, squinted at the player¡¯s number and name¡ªand a sense of dread gripped him.


    Charlton¡¯s 24-year-old center-back, Steve Brown!


    Holy shit. What is this? A center-back joining the attack?


    Wait a second... O¡¯Neill had once used this same strategy¡ªsending Materazzi forward to wreak havoc with his sheer physicality.


    For the first time all game, Brown had pushed into the attack, leaving Charlton¡¯s back line dangerously exposed. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    They were betting everything on this attack. If they lost the ball now, a counter-attack was almost guaranteed. But they didn¡¯t care¡ªthey committed fully.


    In one swift movement, Brown received Leaburn¡¯s pass and surged forward. City¡¯s players were too far away to stop him.


    Damn!


    Realizing the danger, City¡¯s defenders scrambled in a panic, shouting at each other to cover the threat.


    Rio Ferdinand sprinted forward to intercept Brown, but the moment Brown saw him closing in, he knew he couldn¡¯t get past him.


    He shifted his shoulder slightly, feinted one way, then darted to the left. Then, in a flash, Brown swung his leg and fired a powerful low shot!


    It was a powerful shot, level with a person hips, and instinctively, Ferdinand¡ªwho saw the ball flying toward him¡ªdodged because the ball was heading straight for his hand, he thought.


    Thanks to Ferdinand¡¯s quick reflexes, the ball went straight to Lehmann, who was shocked because his view was slightly obscured by Ferdinand. He only saw the ball suddenly pass him and rocket toward him.


    With no other choice in that split second, Lehmann brought his thighs together and placed his hands in front to face the shot, trying to prevent the ball from going in.


    "Unbelievable! Lehmann pulls off an incredible save to deny Brown¡¯s thunderous shot¡ªwhat a reflex! But wait¡ªhere comes Carl Leaburn, right in front of goal! Can you believe it? The danger isn¡¯t over yet! This game just exploded into life!"


    While Lehmann managed to block the thunderous shot, the danger wasn¡¯t over¡ªunexpectedly, the ball rebounded... straight to Carl Leaburn, who was already standing right in front of Lehmann!


    "Absolute madness! The ball ricochets off Lehmann, and Leaburn pounces like a predator to score! The stadium erupts¡ªthis goal could change everything!"


    The crowd erupted into cheers. Charlton¡¯s players gathered in celebration, lifting their heads high as they returned to their half.


    Alan Curbishley, having witnessed the goal, clenched his fist briefly before remaining calm and composed.


    Robertson clapped his hands calmly on the pitch, encouraging his players not to lose heart. After all, conceding a goal only brought them back to square one.


    Richard was left speechless by the goal they had conceded. City¡¯s concession was not due to individual skill or player errors; it was entirely the result of tactics and surprises.


    Charlton had clearly read Robertson well, predicting that they would launch an all-out attack to outsmart him tactically. Sometimes, tactics rely on surprising the opponent.


    The score was tied at 1-1, yet it felt as if something earned had been taken away; it was a strange sensation. This was a natural human reaction, and everyone felt a tinge of it, too.


    If City had conceded first and then equalized, their spirits would have undoubtedly lifted. However, having scored first only to be equalized, the players felt a slight sense of deflation.


    It was this shift in emotions that worried Richard at the start of his team-building. Losing games¡ªespecially being turned around¡ªwas a huge taboo!


    Around the 70th minute, City¡¯s penalty area was packed with players.


    Ferdinand shouted for his teammates to mark tightly as the tension on the pitch reached a boiling point.


    Peter Garland stepped up to take the free kick, sending the ball soaring toward the front post¡ªright where Ferdinand was tightly marking Garry Nelson.


    As the ball hurtled toward them, Ferdinand pressed close against Nelson, their bodies locked in a fierce battle.


    Ferdinand tracked the ball¡¯s trajectory and felt a flicker of confidence, even though it was dropping fast near the goal line. Neither he nor Nelson were perfectly positioned to head the ball¡ªthey were both rushing in. Still, Nelson leapt first, and Ferdinand followed, rising higher with determination.


    Confident he could block the angle with his body, Ferdinand braced himself. But then, to his astonishment, Nelson suddenly hunched forward before snapping his head back.


    The ball smashed off the top of Nelson¡¯s head and spun wildly away¡ªan unpredictable deflection.


    Was it a deliberate headed pass? A clever back flick?


    Confusion rippled through everyone. Even Lehmann, already kneeling and ready to catch the ball comfortably, was caught off guard.


    That slight, unexpected touch from Nelson sent the ball spinning just out of reach.


    Lehmann could do nothing but watch helplessly as the ball arced perfectly into the top corner of the net, his kneeling position making him look almost paralyzed.


    "Unbelievable! That tiny deflection completely wrong-footed Lehmann! The crowd is in shock¡ªCharlton take the lead in the most extraordinary fashion! This game has just exploded with drama!"


    Manchester City 1 - 2 Charlton Athletic


    All Charlton players immediately rushed toward Nelson, who beamed as he hugged Peter Garland. They basked in the roar of the fans¡¯ cheers, still amazed that his subtle glancing header had somehow found the back of the net.


    Ferdinand held his head in despair, staring blankly. He realized he had just been caught off guard¡ªtwice.


    Both of City¡¯s goals conceded were his mistakes.


    Not only had their lead slipped away, but so had their top position. He felt like he might collapse to the ground.


    At that moment, two men approached him¡ªCafu, the team¡¯s captain, and, unexpectedly, Henry¡ªflanking him on either side.


    "Rio, lift your spirits. That wasn¡¯t your fault; no one¡¯s blaming you."


    "Keep your chin up. The game isn¡¯t over yet!"


    Both of them said, essentially, the same thing.


    Meanwhile, the moment that goal went in, Richard¡¯s expression went blank and he slumped in his chair.


    Seeing this, Ramm Mylvaganam began to pitch his product once again.


    "If you used my system, you¡¯d already know that your center-back wasn¡¯t going to perform today."


    Richard was looked up and and couldn¡¯t help blurting out, "How?"


    With a sheepish smile, Mylvaganam explained, "It¡¯s simple. Ever since I started working with Derby, I¡¯ve developed what I call a ¡¯Tsunami of Data Assimilation Protocols in Sports.¡¯ The results have been fantastic."


    "You¡¯d be amazed at what you can learn from the data and analysis. It addresses player fitness for purpose by analyzing medical records, rehab progress, training intensity, game performance, and screening data." He then coughed lightly. "With another twenty thousand, I can build you what I call ¡¯Predictive Talent Insight,¡¯ giving teams the ability to make smarter decisions both in the transfer market and on the pitch."


    "Why do I need to add twenty thousand? Don¡¯t tell me I actually have to buy another separate product from you after installing the main one?"


    "No, no, no¡ªdon¡¯t misunderstand!" Mylvaganam quickly explained, sighing. "It¡¯s because I need funding to develop the additional module. It¡¯s part of the same package, but for now, it¡¯s still in the very early stages. I just need the funds to develop it further."


    Richard nodded at this and said nothing further.


    PHWEEEE!


    The referee¡¯s whistle pierced the air.


    "Oh! A substitution here¡ªThuram coming on for Ferdinand!"


    The dejected Ferdinand could only lower his head and walk slowly toward the bench. His expression was blank, his steps heavy.


    As he passed, Robertson gave him a firm pat on the back¡ªa silent gesture of support and understanding.


    Ferdinand sat down quietly, staring at the pitch, haunted by the weight of his mistakes.

 Chapter 218: The Genius Henry!

    As the match entered the 75th minute, it was Charlton who began to sit back and defend.


    After all, they had already taken the lead¡ªand now it was about holding onto it. They adopted a more composed and cautious approach in the ensuing play. However, suddenly Alan Curbishley frowned on the sideline, clearly sensing something.


    City were beginning to look reckless in their pursuit of an equalizer.


    When the ball went out of play again in the 77th minute, Robertson wasted no time. He immediately brought on Trezeguet to replace Larsson¡ªand then, in a surprising move, swapped Zambrotta for Shevchenko.


    City went all out with their last two substitutions!


    The team had been overturned and was suffering a morale-crushing comeback. All knew that City was being pushed to the edge. At this moment, the coach needed to salvage not just the game but also the team¡¯s morale¡ªand perhaps even his own authority and trust as head coach.


    Now, John Robertson could only take a daring risk.


    Trezeguet was stationed at the forefront, Shevchenko moved to the right, and Henry drifted to the left. Behind the strikers was Neil Lennon, while Van Bommel and McNamara stayed deeper, allowing Roberto Carlos and Cafu to push forward freely.


    Robertson kept it brief as he laid out the tactical adjustments for the front two, emphasizing that while the overall strategy wouldn¡¯t change entirely, the three players up front needed to synchronize their movements and work seamlessly with Roberto Carlos and Cafu.


    In other words, City would maintain a balanced 6-attack, 4-defense shape in both offense and defense.


    The match soon resumed, and with a one-goal lead, Charlton expectedly played it safe.


    The rhythm of cheers from Charlton Athletic fans resonated through the stands, as Carl Moran¡¯s "Blazing Squad" was drowned out by the wave of support from the thousand Charlton visiting fans present.


    On the field, in the 79th minute, Lennon gained possession and passed decisively to Henry on the left flank.


    Henry cut inside and launched a long-range shot that sailed just over the crossbar, sending a shiver down Charlton¡¯s defense.


    By the 83rd minute, Lennon passed, Henry connected with Trezeguet, and the two executed a quick one-two. Henry pushed into the penalty area, only to have the ball intercepted.


    In the 85th minute, once again Henry cut inside, Trezeguet returned the pass, and Henry went for another long-range shot, which was saved by Mike Salmon.


    Something strange was happening.


    In the 4-4-2 system, Henry had seemed almost invisible. But in the 4-3-3, just ten minutes after the restart, he had undoubtedly become the main figure for Manchester City.


    He had already registered three shots and three breakthroughs, while also creating a decent headed opportunity for Trezeguet!


    Thierry Henry¡¯s technical prowess during these brief moments was on full display¡ªhis skillful dribbling, penetrating runs, and clever passes.


    Holy shit.


    Even Robertson realized it wasn¡¯t that Henry was bad, but probably that he didn¡¯t suit the 4-4-2 system!


    The City attack was now increasingly focused on intensifying down the left flank, causing Charlton¡¯s defensive line to inevitably shift and tilt toward the right. Henry naturally became a pressing concern for Charlton¡¯s defenders.


    Containing him and limiting his movement became their top priority.


    This, in turn, allowed Trezeguet and Shevchenko to stay more patient and wait, giving them plenty of space to operate.


    Richard observed every movement of Henry and grew excited. This was it! The beautiful, elegant play of Thierry Henry in full flight.


    Although his team was trailing, City showed no signs of despair. Instead, they displayed resilience and determination, fighting for every opportunity and demonstrating a commendable spirit in the face of adversity.


    Henry tirelessly orchestrated attacks from the midfield and the left flank, circling like a banner of hope that seemed to inspire all his teammates.


    When Henry found himself cornered on the left, Richard glanced up at the scoreboard: 88th.


    His expression turned solemn¡ªhe knew the decisive moment was drawing near.


    Charlton fans erupted in cheers as Henry lost possession on the flank.


    Steve Brown cleared it with a booming kick, and the exhausted Peter Garland waited in position to collect the ball.


    Alan Curbishley had already prepared a substitution to waste time, waiting for a dead-ball opportunity.


    But just as Garland was about to control the ball, a figure burst onto the scene¡ªLilian Thuram, full of fresh energy!


    The fatigued Garland was shoved aside as Thuram powered a header forward.


    Henry, who had just lost the ball and intended to chase it back, suddenly stopped.


    The ball was coming to him!


    What happened next was sheer genius.


    As the ball bounced forward from Thuram¡¯s header, Henry darted toward it, and Phil Chapple wasn¡¯t the only one tracking him ¡ª Kevin Nicholls was also trailing close behind, anticipating that Henry would try to control and receive the ball.


    But just when Nicholls thought he had read the situation, something unexpected happened.


    Henry didn¡¯t touch the ball at all.


    Instead, he let it bounce in front of him and twisted his body sharply ¡ª a sudden, deceptive turn that made it seem as if he was about to take control. But it was all a feint.


    By using only his body movement and letting the ball run, Henry completely sold Nicholls, who was tricked into reacting early.


    Thanks to the momentum from his run, Nicholls¡¯s body couldn¡¯t keep up with Henry¡¯s sudden movement ¡ª and that was all Henry needed.


    In that instant, Henry exploded into a sprint.


    A non-touch feint executed with perfect timing, positioning, and body language to beat his marker one-on-one.


    Henry took the ball in stride and turned sharply, surging forward. First, Phil Chapple tried to close him down after Nicholls, but Henry ghosted past him with a subtle shift of weight.


    Now the Charlton defensive line began to retreat¡ªSteve Brown and Dean Chandler were the last men standing, desperately trying to hold their ground.


    But it was too late.


    With Trezeguet and Shevchenko lurking nearby, the entire defense was distracted. Like it or not, the only two anchors at the back were now forced to face Henry one-on-one.


    Dean Chandler was the first to engage. He stepped up quickly to close down the Frenchman, but Henry dipped his shoulder and cut inside, completely wrong-footing him. The young Charlton defender went sprawling to the turf¡ªa moment of pure humiliation.


    Now clean through on goal, with only Steve Brown to beat, Henry showed ice-cold composure. He didn¡¯t blast it. He didn¡¯t panic.


    He shifted slightly to the right, drawing both Brown and Mike Salmon, the goalkeeper, in that direction.


    Then, with his right foot, he subtly rolled the ball back across to his left side, opening his body, and calmly slotted the ball into the far corner with his weaker left foot, sending Brown and Salmon the wrong way with the coolest of finishes.


    "OH MY WORD¡ªTHIERRY HENRY! He¡¯s taken them all on¡ªone, two, THREE defenders left for dead¡ªand then delivered the coolest finish you¡¯ll ever see. He¡¯s made it look so easy!"


    "GOAAAALLLL!!!" Seeing the ball fly into the Charlton goal, Richard suddenly didn¡¯t care about anything else. He jumped out of his chair and pumped his fist in the air.


    "Unbelievable! That guy is really like a snake!" Even Mylvaganam couldn¡¯t help but clap his hands in admiration.


    After the ball hit the back of the net, the stadium erupted.


    Henry didn¡¯t scream. He didn¡¯t even smile at first. Instead, he turned away from the goal with calm, deliberate steps¡ªlike an artist admiring his finished masterpiece. As his teammates rushed toward him, he kept walking, ignoring the chaos behind him.


    Then, with the crowd roaring and cameras flashing, he slowly turned his back to the stands.


    With both hands, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and tugged it slightly outward¡ªjust enough to make the name visible.


    "HENRY. 12"


    He jabbed a single finger at the letters stitched across his shoulders. Not in arrogance, but in defiance.


    A message: ¡¯Remember the name.¡¯


    Only then did the fire burst out of him. He turned back toward the fans, roared with clenched fists, and punched the air as his teammates finally caught up¡ªswarming him in celebration.


    And in that moment, the comeback was no longer just a scoreline. It was a statement.


    Manchester City 2 ¨C 2 Charlton Athletic.


    While everyone agreed that everything would settle into extra time, something unexpected happened.


    One minute before the final whistle, both teams had noticeably eased the tempo. Everyone expected the match to drift toward extra time.


    The psychological toll was visible; legs were heavy, minds were tired, and the intensity had dropped.


    Manchester City were calmly circulating possession when the ball came to Roberto Carlos on the left flank. Instinctively, he spotted Henry¡ªlurking just outside the penalty area, dangerously still, like a coiled spring waiting to strike.


    With one swift motion, Carlos curled a precise pass toward Henry.


    Henry received the ball with his back to goal, positioned near the edge of the box. Defender Phil Chapple was right on his shoulder, closing down space quickly, ready to block any attempt¡ªbut Henry held his ground.


    With a deft first touch, he flicked the ball up off the ground using the inside of his right foot, lifting it just high enough to clear the turf.


    As the ball rose, Henry pivoted sharply on his right heel, spinning away from Chapple, who was left off-balance and struggling to react.


    With the ball now descending, Henry didn¡¯t hesitate¡ªbut suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder, causing him to stumble and lose his balance to one side.


    With no other choice, Henry¡ªbeing dragged off balance¡ªwas forced to look for an alternative option. And then he saw it.


    Roberto Carlos. Already sprinting, already prepared.


    Henry twisted his body and, just before falling, flicked the ball sideways with the outside of his boot. The pass was light, yet perfect.


    The ball bounced once.


    Then again.


    And Roberto Carlos met it in full stride, launching himself forward like a missile. His left leg wound back¡ªand then, with the explosive power he was famous for, he struck the ball with his laces.


    BOOM.


    The shot roared like a rocket. A blur of speed, spin, and venom.


    Mike Salmon in the Charlton goal barely had time to react. He had been in a relaxed state, expecting the referee to blow the final whistle¡ªcertainly not a sudden bazooka shot. Before he could even move, the ball had already flown past him.


    A bazooka of a goal, fired at the death.


    3¨C2. Manchester City. The comeback complete.


    "WE ARE GOING TO WEMBLEY~!!!"


    Fans leapt from their seats, scarves flew, strangers hugged, and the sound¡ªit was deafening. A thunderous explosion of joy and disbelief.


    Some fans fell to their knees, others clutched their heads in stunned awe. The City bench cleared, players and staff sprinting down the touchline, arms raised, mouths open in mid-scream.


    On the pitch, everyone rushed toward Roberto Carlos from all directions, but he had already torn off his jersey and roared in excitement, sprinting toward the nearest stand and pumping his fists in the air before being mobbed by his teammates. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "OH MY WORD! ROBERTO CARLOS HAS JUST SET THE NIGHT ON FIRE!"


    "He struck it like his life depended on it! Manchester City¡ªdead and buried just 30 minutes ago¡ªhave TURNED. IT. AROUND!"

 Chapter 219: Take us to Wembley!

    The match against Charlton was an absolute thriller!


    The media was buzzing nonstop about Manchester City¡¯s incredible comeback¡ªfirst falling behind, then clawing their way back to level the score, turning the game into a true rollercoaster of emotions.


    Fans everywhere were on the edge of their seats, witnessing a display of grit and determination that perfectly captured the spirit of football. Headlines praised City¡¯s never-say-die attitude, highlighting how the team refused to give up even when the odds were stacked against them.


    This match didn¡¯t just secure points¡ªit reignited belief and showed the world that Manchester City was ready to fight for promotion until the very last whistle.


    Time passed quickly, and before anyone knew it, the big day had finally arrived¡ªthe final showdown. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Today was the playoff final: Manchester City vs. Ipswich Town.


    Ipswich, after cruising past Stoke City with another confident 2¨C0 win, had already secured a commanding 5¨C0 aggregate to book their place at Wembley.


    Fans were already speculating¡ªif City had struggled so much to get past Charlton Athletic, how would they cope against a strong Ipswich side?


    By 3 p.m., Wembley Stadium was buzzing with tension, and traffic had begun to clog the northbound routes from Manchester to North London.


    The reason? Manchester City supporters were pouring into northwest London, all headed for Wembley Stadium.


    With a capacity of over sixty thousand, the venue was destined to sell out. Tickets allocated to both clubs had vanished quickly, and not even inflated prices from scalpers could deter the most determined fans¡ªespecially the passionate City faithful, desperate to be part of the occasion.


    The night before the big match, Richard returned to his parents¡¯ home in London and spent the evening there¡ªquiet, reflective.


    "Are you really going to forbid your own parents from watching your club possibly win promotion?" his father, Bryan, asked, unable to hide his disappointment.


    Richard explained helplessly, "After what just happened with Manchester City in East London? No way."


    He was still haunted by what had happened at The Den.


    "Just stay with Harry and Sarah today. Don¡¯t worry about me."


    "We know, we know¡ªyour father¡¯s just teasing you," Anna, his mother, said gently before kissing Richard on the forehead as he bid farewell and headed out.


    For the first time, Richard boarded the team bus alongside the Manchester City squad.


    As the buses pulled into Wembley, he gazed out the window to see a sea of blue¡ªfans everywhere. Even those without tickets had gathered, eager to support their team from the closest distance possible.


    The moment Richard spotted the famous Wembley cable, he stood up and sharply clapped his hands once, instantly capturing everyone¡¯s attention.


    "For this occasion, please don¡¯t look at me as the owner of the club, but as the head of your performance team. And as for why I¡¯ve gathered everyone here, please listen carefully."


    Richard then set his phone to loudspeaker, making sure everyone could hear.


    Suddenly, a cough sounded from the phone before a voice said, "Test, one, two. Can everyone hear me?"


    Only then did everyone on the bus realize¡ªit was Martin O¡¯Neill!


    "Yes, we can hear you, Martin," Richard replied.


    "Thank you." O¡¯Neill coughed again before continuing, "I don¡¯t want to talk too much or put pressure on you, but I want to apologize first, as I cannot be with you today."


    He paused, catching his breath before continuing.


    "Do you want the championship?"


    There was silence.


    "Do you want the championship or not? Why is no one answering my question?!"


    Hearing his scolding, without hesitation, all the players responded, "Yes!"


    "Good! Now listen to me," O¡¯Neill said.


    "If you want to lose and throw away everything you¡¯ve worked for this season, keep playing the way you did against Charlton. That¡¯s exactly what you¡¯re going to do." Then he added, "Get out there and play like you want to win this. Like you want promotion. Like it means something. You¡¯re waiting for them to make a move so you can react¡ªbut the bad news is, you¡¯re playing poorly, and you¡¯re already 1¨C0 down."


    Everyone looked confused hearing this.


    "So here¡¯s what you¡¯re going to do. Play like you¡¯re already behind by a goal. You¡¯ve got 45 minutes to decide whether you want to stay in this division or move up to play with the big boys. Now go out and show me what you¡¯ve got. I¡¯ll be waiting for you from here. GO!"


    Click.


    Then the phone went dead.


    Everyone exchanged glances. What the heck was that?


    Thankfully, no one thought twice, because with a soft hiss, the bus came to a stop, and the doors swung open.


    Richard was the first to stand as he put the phone back into his pocket, then nodded toward Robertson and the others.


    "Get off the bus."


    Everyone soon hurried off the bus, and Richard clearly separated from the group as he made his way to the VIP section to watch the match from there.


    "Welcome to Wembley Stadium! On this sunny afternoon, we are about to find out who will claim the final promotion spot alongside Derby County and Crystal Palace this season. Motson, Crocker, what are your thoughts on today¡¯s match?"


    "Well, it¡¯s truly unfortunate because Manchester City, who were favorites to win, had to face a 10-point deduction and now must fight hard to secure their place in the playoffs..."


    Soon, the commentators began their analysis.


    "The players are already lined up for a photo opportunity, and shortly, we¡¯ll be introducing the starting lineups."


    "Today¡¯s Ipswich Town starting lineup features a familiar 4-4-2 formation: goalkeeper Craig Forrest; defenders Tony Mowbray, Claus Thomsen, Gus Uhlenbeek, and Mauricio Taricco; midfielders Geraint Williams, Mick Stockwell, Paul Mason, and Simon Milton; and forwards Ian Marshall and Alex Mathie, who have already scored 38 goals this season!"


    "In contrast, Manchester City¡¯s lineup looks a bit different with their 4-3-3 formation. In goal is Richard Wright instead of Lehmann, followed by Cafu, Lilian Thuram, William Gallas, and Roberto Carlos in defense. The midfield features Mark Van Bommel, Neil Lennon, and Jackie McNamara. Up front are Thierry Henry, Henrik Larsson, and Andriy Shevchenko."


    "What an incredible day¡­" Richard couldn¡¯t help but mutter as he scanned everything with his eyes, taking in the atmosphere of Wembley.


    Indeed, what an incredible day it would turn out to be¡ªsurreal, perhaps, is a better word.


    Grandfathers, fathers, family members, and children alike filled the stands, their countless eyes not just watching a game but carrying a legacy of hopes and dreams passed down through generations.


    After both captains shook hands and made the sign, it was determined that City would take the kickoff first.


    Ipswich Town¡¯s midfield and defense consisted of seasoned players; although they might not be standout stars, they definitely played at a low-level Premier League standard.


    In terms of forwards, one was Ian Marshall, a typical striker capable of scoring with both headers and kicks, though lacking in other skills and relying heavily on service from teammates. He partnered with Alex Mathie, known for his ability to link play and deliver precise passes.


    From Richard¡¯s point of view, there was a clear reason why Ipswich Town could compete in the First Division. It was related to their style of play, which suddenly changed midway through the season.


    PHWEEEE!


    As the match kicked off, Richard observed the unfolding action on the pitch, his brows furrowing slightly.


    Ipswich Town indeed fell back into a compact defense with a strong structure. It seemed they intended to rely on counter-attacks to snatch the promotion ticket here.


    The four midfielders guarded the area just outside their penalty box, refraining from hasty challenges, while the four defenders held a staggered line.


    Gus Uhlenbeek and Mauricio Taricco¡ªthe Dutch and Argentinian¡ªplayed more like deep-lying defenders, ready to guard against Cafu¡¯s late runs or penetrating passes aiming to breach their defensive line.


    This defensive strategy wasn¡¯t particularly innovative or advanced; one could even describe it as retro, resembling the early Italian "catenaccio" style. Like Mediterranean fishermen, it wasn¡¯t just one but two who cast their nets into the sea to maximize their catch, ensuring that no fish slipped away.


    In a chain defense, the role of the deep-lying center-back was akin to that second net, intercepting any loose balls or attacking players that broke through the first line.


    Manchester City¡¯s attack was colorful at first, demonstrating patience. However, after several penetrations were thwarted by the packed defense, their formation began to push forward inadvertently, with more players joining the attack, culminating in a siege of Ipswich Town¡¯s half.


    The stands erupted with cheers as City¡¯s fans sensed victory was within reach.


    But Richard felt a cold sweat beading on his forehead; something didn¡¯t feel right.


    From the beginning, it seemed Ipswich adopted a defensive stance, unafraid of City¡¯s relentless assault.


    Richard couldn¡¯t help but glance at Robertson and sigh in relief. It seemed he realized this too, as he could hear the other side yelling and shouting repeatedly without pause.


    Still, with City¡¯s attack pushing aggressively, their defense began to appear vulnerable. Even with three players ensuring coverage, could Van Bommel, Lennon, and McNamara really cover the entire backline?


    No¡ªwait.


    Neil Lennon!


    As someone who could be described as the playmaker, or the only source of creativity in midfield, he was expected to sometimes drop back¡ªand it seemed this was precisely what Ipswich wanted.


    They targeted Neil Lennon from the very beginning!


    Manchester City had possession, but it was going nowhere.


    The ball moved from Gallas to Thuram, shifted mostly to Cafu, then back to Thuram¡ªthere was no penetration.


    Although Ipswich wasn¡¯t pressing too high, they were disciplined, closing every passing lane and forcing City to recycle possession over and over again.


    Everyone could see it¡ªhis team wasn¡¯t moving the ball quickly enough. Was he nervous or what?


    Every pass took a second too long. Every turn was met with immediate pressure.


    Then came the mistake.


    Neil Lennon, normally so composed, dropped deeper to receive a pass from Van Bommel.


    Too slow, however.


    Two players had already targeted Lennon as their prey.


    Lennon was just about to take a touch, turning slightly to scan for options¡ª


    when Uhlenbeek pounced.


    The Ipswich midfielder closed the space in a flash, sticking out a foot and poking the ball away.


    Lennon barely had time to react before the counterattack was already in motion.


    The moment Uhlenbeek won the ball, he immediately played a sharp forward pass into Mauricio Taricco¡¯s feet.


    Manchester City were caught off balance¡ªThuram and Gallas had stepped forward, leaving space behind them.


    Taricco took a single touch, angled his body toward goal, and fired.


    Every City player barely had time to process it before the ball whipped past Richard Wright and slammed into the bottom corner.


    GOAL!!!

 Chapter 220: Roof Upgrade = Higher Ticket Prices

    Before the final match, as early May approached, the Premier League had wrapped up its penultimate round of matches.


    League leaders Manchester United secured a narrow 1¨C0 victory at home against Arsenal, with Eric Cantona scoring a stunning goal from 25 yards. The win put United four points ahead of Newcastle United.


    The next day, however, Newcastle responded with an emphatic 3¨C0 home win over West Ham, cutting the gap back down to just one point.


    As the championship battle reached its climax, anticipation surrounding the Premier League title continued to grow.


    In the following fixtures, Arsenal aided Manchester United¡¯s title bid by defeating Newcastle United 2¨C0 at Highbury.


    The result restored United¡¯s four-point lead at the top and brought them closer to securing their third league title in four seasons.


    The match ended with a thrilling 3-2 win for Manchester City, and Richard didn¡¯t waste any time in inviting Ramm Mylvaganam to his office first¡ªbefore heading to Miss Heysen¡¯s office. He knocked on her door and shared what was on his mind.


    "What? You want to renovate Maine Road again?"


    Miss Heysen was surprised. They had just completed a renovation on the Kippax Stand, hadn¡¯t they? Moreover, weren¡¯t they planning to move to a new stadium? Why bother upgrading Maine Road if they were going to leave it behind?


    Richard nodded, anticipating her concern.


    "Constructing a new stadium will probably take two to three years," he explained. "And in the meantime, we¡¯ll still be playing at Maine Road. I¡¯m not talking about increasing capacity¡ªI¡¯m talking about adding rooftop coverage to the Platt Lane Stand, the North Stand, and the Main Stand."


    It was simply impossible to increase the capacity of Maine Road¡ªsurrounded on all sides by residential housing, there was no room to expand.


    Left, right, front, and back, the stadium was boxed in by rows of local homes. Any attempt to force an expansion would mean digging deep into the club¡¯s pockets¡ªnot for construction costs alone, but for compensation to the residents living around Maine Road.


    Richard definitely didn¡¯t want to spend more money on an expansion that would clearly be a waste, but while he couldn¡¯t do that, he knew how to increase revenue for the next season. Just in the recent match against Charlton, Richard had come to recognize a glaring flaw in Maine Road¡¯s current state: three of the stands were completely exposed to the sun


    "These sections get hit hard during day matches," he said. "It¡¯s not just a matter of comfort¡ªit drains the fans¡¯ energy. When they¡¯re overheated and struggling under the glare, they can¡¯t give the full 90 minutes of support the team needs."


    At the end of the day, it¡¯s all about comfort.


    "Moreover, with the new rooftops in place and the Premier League season coming up, we can justify increasing the ticket prices, right? So don¡¯t worry about that¡ªwe¡¯ll break even quickly. We¡¯re talking about the Premier League here."


    It¡¯s an investment.


    If City want fans to show up every week and give their full support, then they need to provide a proper matchday experience. Shade, comfort, atmosphere¡ªit all feeds into performance, both on and off the pitch.


    "Is it really needed? I mean, Richard, even if we get promoted to the Premier League, will the returns truly be worth it?" she paused, thinking for a moment before continuing.


    "If the teams representing the Premier League can¡¯t achieve good results in Europe, then the global focus won¡¯t be on England. In that case, the value of the Premier League would be limited to its domestic audience, and the risks versus rewards for sponsorships would be mismatched," she stated.


    After all, she was the CEO of the club, and her job was to balance the books¡ªso her concern was justifiable.


    Richard nodded in agreement. "You¡¯re right to be cautious," he began. "But what¡¯s happening isn¡¯t just about football. It¡¯s a shift in the business of football." He paused, then asked, "Do you know why, when clubs from smaller European nations find success in the Champions League, it rarely translates into long-term growth?"


    Miss Heysen frowned, thinking for a moment before answering tentatively, "Because the ceiling is set by the limitations of their domestic football culture?"


    "Yes, exactly," Richard replied confidently.


    Otherwise, why does no one talk about Steaua Bucure?ti, who won the European Cup in ¡¯85? Or Porto in ¡¯86? Or even Red Star Belgrade, who won it in the ¡¯90/91 season?


    "But when teams from traditional football giants¡ªItaly, Spain, Germany, France¡ªfind consistent success in Europe, the ripple effects are massive. Look at Italy, for instance. In an era where media coverage spreads like wildfire, their football prominence continues to shape global perception."


    Richard took a deep breath, his voice now calm but filled with conviction.


    "Media is the key, TV rights are going to explode. Sky has already shown what¡¯s possible. Rupert Murdoch¡ªhe¡¯s sharp. He¡¯s willing to invest at a loss upfront because he sees the long-term vision. Broadcasting deals won¡¯t just bring in money¡ªthey¡¯ll redefine the sport. Sponsors won¡¯t just be backing a club¡ªthey¡¯ll be buying into a global entertainment platform."


    He pointed toward the window, toward the Maine Road pitch.


    "England, as a footballing powerhouse, carries immense cultural and commercial weight. Football is our culture¡ªand the Premier League is going to be its greatest export. If we get in early, while others hesitate¡ªwe won¡¯t just be chasing success¡­"


    He paused, then finished with quiet intensity: "We¡¯ll be riding the wave that defines football for the next 20 years."


    Despite England¡¯s return to European competition five years ago, no English team had reached the quarter-finals since. This highlighted a significant gap with the continent¡¯s top teams.


    The isolationism that English football experienced after the late 1980s had come at a steep price.


    Heck, this season, Blackburn Rovers¡ªEngland¡¯s representatives in the Champions League¡ªmanaged to collect only 4 points in Group B, finishing embarrassingly behind teams like Spartak Moscow, Legia Warsaw, and Rosenborg of Norway


    Thanks to these developments, English football was becoming increasingly Europeanized. The influx of foreign players and the growing commercialization of clubs marked a clear transformation. The formation of the Premier League, in particular, ushered in a new era of broadcasting revenue, elevating the game¡¯s financial and global reach.


    In contrast, although Italy¡¯s Serie A was undoubtedly the premier league of the moment, its structural weaknesses threatened long-term growth.


    Transfer restrictions outside of Europe and the dominance of family-owned club models limited foreign investment. Despite showcasing a constellation of footballing stars, the Italian game had become notorious for its brutality¡ªthrilling attacking moves often ended in cynical fouls.


    Throughout the ¡¯90s, fans were greeted by injury lists filled with marquee names. But what they truly craved was to see those stars shining on the pitch¡ªnot sidelined in the treatment room.


    Richard turned back toward Miss Heysen. "That¡¯s why we¡¯re going to position ourselves properly when we get promoted. The new roof will justify a modest increase in ticket prices. Since expanding Maine Road is impossible, we have to find the sweet spot¡ªhigh enough to boost revenue, but still fair to the fans."


    Miss Heysen nodded as she jotted down the instructions. "So I guess now we need a full breakdown of ticket pricing structures across the Premier League?"


    "Yes¡ªaverage season ticket costs, matchday prices, and so on. Look into how clubs set their prices¡ªhow much they charge, what kind of fan experience they offer at different price points, how early-bird packages are structured, concessions, VIP tiers, even family deals. Since we can¡¯t just guess the numbers, we need to be creative about it."


    Miss Heysen gave a firm nod. "Alright. I¡¯ll have the research report on your desk by the end of the week. Oh, and by the way, Richard," she added, reaching into her drawer and pulling out a neatly bound document.


    "Mr. Humphreys called yesterday. I spoke to him directly. He¡¯s been following City¡¯s progress this season and was quite impressed. He wants to sponsor us again next season¡ªassuming we make it to the Premier League."


    Richard raised an eyebrow, half-amused. "That confident, is he? Already betting we¡¯ll get promoted?"


    Miss Heysen smiled. "Apparently so. And this time, the deal isn¡¯t the same as last season."


    "What¡¯s he offering?"


    "He¡¯s tripled his commitment¡ª¡ê1.5 million for the season. And get this¡ªhis team has already prepared the full design package: new away kit, third kit, goalkeeper kits, and even the team jackets. He¡¯s not waiting around."


    "He¡¯s really going all in," Richard said as he nodded. "Alright, we agree with him¡ª1.5 million. For the roof at Maine Road, please contact the Arup Group as soon as possible. At least by the time the Premier League starts, the roof needs to be completed as soon as possible."


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 Chapter 221: Two Red Cards

    Back to the playoff final match.


    The net rippled. The stadium erupted.


    Ipswich fans burst into wild celebration¡ªarms raised, scarves flailing, voices merging into a deafening roar that swept across Wembley like a tidal wave.


    On the Manchester City bench¡ªsilence.


    Robertson sat frozen, jaw clenched, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of his seat.


    "F**k!"


    Richard cursed under his breath the moment City conceded. Are you kidding me John?!


    The first goal down, and not even ten minutes in. This wasn¡¯t how it was supposed to start.


    In the next few minutes after the match resumed, Manchester City focused on offense while Ipswich concentrated on defense, making the tactical situation crystal clear.


    For a split second, Wembley became a stadium split in two¡ªtwo contrasting emotions, two contrasting strategies.


    City¡¯s relentless attacks yielded no results, prompting Robertson to instruct both full-backs to pull back and reinforce the defense, hoping this would lure Ipswich out of their low block and encourage them to commit more players forward.


    Unfortunately for Robertson, George Burley¡¯s tactical discipline offered no such opportunity.


    Ipswich played in perfect unison. Even when chances emerged for their three midfielders to push forward, they remained committed to their long-ball strategy. The midfielders rarely advanced beyond the center circle, and the full-backs stayed tight with the back line.


    As a result, it was City who began to grow increasingly impatient. Trying to break down a well-organized block with just five attacking players against eight defenders was a recipe for frustration.


    Three minutes later, Henry combined with Larsson on the left side.


    Henry made a sharp cut inside, but just as he took a step, Tony Mowbray closed in and applied pressure. Henry feinted a dribble and swung a cross toward Larsson in the center, but Larsson¡ªdesperate to make the play¡ªwas denied as Claus Thomsen slid in and cleared the ball away.


    Just ninety seconds later, Henry tried the same move. This time, he chose not to dribble but launched a sweeping cross from left to right. Shevchenko, arriving from the far side, collected the ball cleanly and unleashed a shot¡ªbut Tony Mowbray was there again, bravely blocking it with his body.


    Attack. Disruption. Attack. Disruption...


    The main theme of the match was unmistakable. Manchester City had stopped trying to penetrate through Ipswich¡¯s compact defense.


    Larsson dropped deeper, and along with Henry, Shevchenko, and Neil Lennon, they began attempting long-range shots in hopes of piercing the dense defensive wall. However, most of their efforts were less than impressive¡ªeither blocked or drifting off target.


    By the 39th minute of the first half, City had managed only one shot on target.


    Meanwhile, Ipswich had yet to register a single attempt on goal.


    45th+1 Minute


    The referee¡¯s whistle cut through the noise of Wembley, signaling the end of the first half.


    Manchester City trailed 1¨C0.


    Walking back to the dressing room, the silence was deafening.


    Henry wiped sweat from his forehead, muttering under his breath. McNamara kicked the wall as he passed, frustration etched across his face. Lennon barely looked up, his hands resting on his hips. The players weren¡¯t just losing the game¡ªthey were losing belief.


    Robertson closed his eyes and tried to imagine what O¡¯Neill would do. How would he handle this halftime?


    So he entered last.


    He didn¡¯t speak at first. He just stared at the players.


    For a few moments, he let them sit with the weight of it. Let them feel the silence. Then his voice cut through the room¡ªsharp and cold.


    "Is this how we go out?"


    Nobody responded.


    "Is this how you want to be remembered?"


    Still silence.


    "Look at me, all of you."


    One by one, their eyes met his.


    "Ipswich think this game is over. They think we¡¯re finished. They think they can sit back for forty-five minutes and coast their way into the Premier League. Bullshit! It¡¯s just one goal. ONE!"


    His voice rose, now burning with fire.


    "You¡¯ve got forty-five minutes to change history. Forty-five minutes to flip this stadium on its head. Forty-five minutes to remind everyone watching that we are Manchester City¡ªand we don¡¯t f***ing quit."


    "We get one goal, and everything changes. One goal, and they panic. One goal, and the entire stadium turns against them."


    He turned to Cafu and Roberto Carlos.


    "You two¡ªno hesitation. I want you driving forward every single time you get the ball. Make their full-backs suffer."


    Then he turned to Richard Wright.


    "You¡­"


    Wright looked up.


    "Don¡¯t disappoint me. I chose you over Jens for this match."


    Second Half Kickoff.


    Unexpectedly, just a minute into the second half, Jackie McNamara committed a tackle inside the penalty box, sending Ipswich fans into a frenzy of excitement.


    They could already see it: City trailing 2¨C0 in the second half, collapsing just like Stoke City had against them weeks before.


    Richard sat in despair, closing his eyes.


    One second¡­


    Two seconds¡­


    Fifteen seconds¡­


    But suddenly, the noise wasn¡¯t coming from the distant stands¡ªit was erupting from the people around him.


    Richard¡¯s eyes shot open, confusion written all over his face.


    "Richard Wright saves Alex Mathie¡¯s penalty! Unbelievable! Wright denies Ipswich the chance to double their lead!"


    Richard froze. Sometimes, when you want to rally your team¡­ it doesn¡¯t have to start with a goal, right?


    "LET¡¯S GO!!" Wright roared, slapping the post with both hands, adrenaline pouring out of him.


    Sure enough, thanks to Richard Wright¡¯s crucial save, City seemed reborn.


    Cafu managed to burst past Ipswich¡¯s left side, drawing a foul near the right wing of the opposing half. Manchester City was awarded a free kick.


    Sensing the opportunity, Henry immediately went over to Neil Lennon and Roberto Carlos¡ªCity¡¯s usual free-kick takers¡ªand whispered something to them. Both nodded in agreement.


    The set-piece routine they had practiced all week was finally about to be put into action.


    Larsson, Shevchenko, and Henry sprinted into the penalty area. Thuram also pushed forward, leaving his defensive post.


    Manchester City¡¯s entire aerial unit had advanced.


    Only Van Bommel and Gallas stayed back. Everyone capable of scoring with a header was now crowded in front of Ipswich¡¯s goal.


    Neil Lennon placed the ball carefully and scanned the box. As expected, Ipswich¡¯s defenders focused all their attention on the biggest threats¡ªThuram, Larsson, and Shevchenko.


    No one paid any attention to Thierry Henry.


    He wasn¡¯t particularly short, but his record back at Monaco showed he had never scored a header from a set piece. As outlined in the Ipswich manager¡¯s pre-match briefing, Henry wasn¡¯t considered a danger in the air.


    So, they ignored him. And that was a mistake.


    After analyzing the tightly packed defense, Lennon finally caught sight of Henry slipping through the gaps¡ªa moving shadow between the bodies. Thuram, Larsson, and Shevchenko had done their job. They were the perfect decoys.


    "Here!" Henry suddenly yelled.


    Lennon struck the ball¡ªnot a high, looping cross, but a fast, chest-high bullet.


    Flat. Direct. Straight to Henry.


    The crowd gasped. Chest? And wait... was his back to goal?


    Confusion rippled through the Ipswich defense. Was it a mis-hit? Was Henry trying to blocked the ball or what?


    Then, in the midst of the confusion, it happened.


    In one fluid motion, Henry twisted his body and flicked the ball to the left¡ªwith his chest.


    What?! A pass with his chest?


    Tony Mowbray, who saw it clearly, raised his hand and shouted at the referee, "Handball!"


    The defenders hesitated. Everyone looked around, distracted, waiting for a whistle that never came.


    And there¡ªwaiting¡ªwas Roberto Carlos.


    Just like the goal against Charlton.


    He loaded his powerful left leg like a cannon.


    BANG!


    The ball rocketed off his foot, a howitzer of a shot tearing through the air.


    Ipswich goalkeeper Craig Forrest couldn¡¯t even react, distracted by the shout for handball.


    The ball crashed off the underside of the crossbar and slammed into the net¡ªbefore Forrest even knew what had happened.


    "GOAL! GOAL! GOAL!" the commentator screamed it three times. "Would you believe that?! A chest pass¡ªfrom Thierry Henry! Yes, with his chest! Who even does that?! And Roberto Carlos¡ªoh, my word¡ªhe¡¯s unleashed a missile! That¡¯s not a shot, that¡¯s a declaration of war!"


    He turned to his co-commentator, his voice still trembling with disbelief.


    "Look at that again¡ªlook! Henry, with his back to goal, just caressed it sideways with his chest... like it was nothing! And Carlos¡ªwell, I don¡¯t care how many times you¡¯ve seen him strike a ball, you never get used to that. The keeper had no chance. None at all!"


    Manchester City 1 - 1 Ipswich Town


    After City¡¯s equalizer, Robertson immediately made two substitutions: Jackie McNamara came off for Robbie Savage, and Larsson was replaced by Trezeguet to serve as the target man.


    What followed was a thrilling sequence of back-to-back goals.


    "Wow! Ian Marshall with a long-range effort puts Ipswich ahead once again! That was their first shot on target since kickoff!"


    Manchester City 1 ¨C 2 Ipswich Town


    With Ipswich back in the lead, their fans were in high spirits.


    About forty yards from the edge of the box, Ian Marshall received the ball again. He sidestepped to adjust his angle and position, denying Thuram any chance to apply immediate pressure, then unleashed another powerful shot.


    The strike was beautiful, aimed straight for the top right corner of the goal, slicing through the air with deadly precision.


    But Richard Wright made a phenomenal save!


    Seeing the shot denied so dramatically, Ipswich manager George Burley was left dumbfounded¡ªshocked to the core. "Damn it," he muttered. "Is Manchester City in cahoots with Lady Luck today?"


    Richard Wright, seeing that the Ipswich players were still disorganized, immediately placed the ball on the ground and launched a quick, high-powered kick toward the penalty area.


    The ball soared through the air, flying directly toward the Ipswich goal.


    Ipswich had already pushed most of their players forward to organize the next attack, leaving their backline dangerously exposed. However, City, still recovering from the previous play, had most of their players watching the ball hanging in the air.


    Amidst everyone¡¯s dazed expressions, one player remained fresh and alert¡ªDavid Trezeguet, tasked as the target man.


    Craig Forrest, seeing the long pass from Richard Wright, rushed out of his goal in a panic, intending to catch the ball¡ªa terrible decision. If he had tried to punch it instead, they might have avoided punishment.


    Now, it all came down to anticipation, concentration, and decision-making¡ªknowing exactly when the ball would drop and quickly deciding the best way to react. The players had to judge the flight perfectly, time their moves flawlessly, and commit fully to their choices. One split-second hesitation or miscalculation could change everything.


    Because Forrest tried to catch the ball, his reach was shorter. As the ball began to descend, Trezeguet timed his run perfectly and jumped just as Forrest did. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    And the result?


    Unexpectedly, in mid-air, Trezeguet let out a sharp "Ahhh!" and crashed to the ground, writhing in pain. Forrest was confused, but with the referee running over from the City goal¡ªand no VAR here¡ªno one knew exactly what had happened.


    All they saw was Trezeguet screaming in pain.


    Chaos.


    Ipswich players definitely knew something bad was going to happen, and so did George Burley.


    Goalkeepers are the last line of defense. If they commit a foul that denies an obvious goal-scoring opportunity (DOGSO), especially outside the penalty area or during a clear breakaway, referees usually issue a straight red card to discourage professional fouls.


    The referee was immediately swarmed by several Ipswich players, while others turned their attention to Trezeguet, who was still writhing in agony on the ground.


    "Don¡¯t lie! Get up, quickly!" one of the Ipswich players, Claus Thomsen, barked angrily as he tried to force Trezeguet to stand.


    But Robbie Savage saw it.


    "What are you doing?!" he shouted, storming over to confront Thomsen.


    Thomsen shoved him without hesitation. "F*** off!" he snapped, then turned back to Trezeguet. "Wake up, you liar!"


    Savage, furious, looked ready to explode. But just as he was about to retaliate¡ªjust for a split second¡ªhe caught something.


    A wink.


    Trezeguet had winked at him.


    Savage froze, realization hitting him like lightning.


    Then, dramatically, Savage clutched his chin and threw himself backward, rolling on the ground like he¡¯d been struck.


    "Eyyyyy!" the crowd roared, half in disbelief, half in amusement.


    The referee glanced back¡ªand misunderstood the entire situation. Shaking his head in frustration, he turned toward Claus Thomsen and pulled out a straight red card.


    Gasps erupted around the stadium.


    And then, without hesitation, the referee turned back to Craig Forrest¡ªthe Ipswich goalkeeper¡ªand raised another red card!


    Two red cards for Ipswich Town!


    Richard couldn¡¯t help but give a thumbs-up to both Trezeguet and Savage


    ¡¯Cunning ladies!¡¯

 Chapter 222: The Bananarama

    Two red cards are basically a death sentence for Ipswich Town. How will they play with only nine players?


    "That¡¯s right! Our offense hasn¡¯t ended! Scoundrels from Ipswich, be prepared for a world of pain!"


    Richard looked at the excited fans who suddenly roared, and his mouth twitched.


    It was Carl Morran.


    The rest was easy for Trezeguet. Stepping up to the spot with nerves of steel, he calmly slotted the ball into the bottom corner, sending the keeper the wrong way.


    Trezeguet sprinted along the touchline, arms outstretched like an airplane, his face lit up with uncontainable joy. Behind him, his teammates gave chase, shouting and laughing, their boots pounding the turf in celebration.


    All around them, Wembley exploded¡ªflashes from a thousand cameras lit the night like stars, freezing the moment in time for every fan lucky enough to witness it.


    Manchester City 2 ¨C 2 Ipswich Town.


    The crowd roared. The equalizer had come at last¡ªand with Ipswich now down to nine men, the tide had truly turned.


    Robertson quickly called over a few players, waving his hand with urgency. "All out attack," he ordered. With Ipswich reduced to just nine men, it was like playing against a dead fish


    The match resumed, and although City had just equalized, the atmosphere had completely shifted. Their confidence surged. Ipswich, meanwhile, had been crippled not only by the two red cards but also by a tactical gamble made by manager George Burley.


    The moment Craig Forrest and Claus Thomsen were sent off, Burley reacted swiftly¡ªhe sacrificed both his strikers, subbing in two defensive players to shore up the back and midfield.


    It was clear what he wanted. He wasn¡¯t playing to win anymore. He was playing to survive¡ªholding out until the final whistle and dragging Manchester City into extra time.


    PHWEEEEE!


    The referee blew the whistle and rushed over within seconds. He faced bitter complaints from the Ipswich players but still awarded City a free-kick roughly thirty yards from the goal.


    "Interesting," the commentator noted. "This time, it¡¯s Henry taking it instead of Roberto Carlos. Are City underestimating Ipswich now? Not using their best free-kick taker?"


    But that wasn¡¯t the case at all.


    Meanwhile, Henry finished positioning the ball on the free-kick spot. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he stepped back and surveyed the scene before him.


    PHWEEEE!


    A few tense seconds passed as the referee ensured the wall was set. Players jostled for position, nerves taut. Then, with a sharp blast of his whistle, he signaled for Thierry Henry to take the free-kick.


    Whoosh.


    The ball soared into the air¡ªat first drifting wide, almost as if it would miss entirely¡ªthen curled viciously, like a snake weaving through the air on a deadly hunt. It arced around the edge of the wall and dipped sharply toward the far post.


    THUD¡ªNET!


    The stadium erupted into thunderous applause. A wave of blue surged through Wembley.


    Henry simply turned his back to the goal, arms lifted high in quiet triumph, facing the roaring crowd.


    Manchester City 3 ¨C 2 Ipswich Town.


    "Henry once again showed everyone why Manchester City had splashed out five million to sign him from Monaco! In his debut match, he created three brilliant assists but didn¡¯t find the net himself. However, unexpectedly, in these two crucial matches, he became a key positive force for the team¡ªbringing creativity, vision, and energy that lifted the entire squad. City ahs found their second Ronaldo!"


    Outside Wembley Stadium, the crowd was packed beyond capacity. With no tickets left, the gathering of City fans outside put immense pressure on security. Inside the stadium, countless fans were embracing and crying¡ªsome even knelt with their hands raised in gratitude. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    City are back!


    One fan immediately pulled out a banner he had been too nervous to show earlier, especially after Ipswich took the lead.


    In the 80th minute, Cafu delivered a perfect, curling cross into the box¡ªeveryone knew exactly who it was meant for: Trezeguet.


    The ball bounced just inside the penalty area, and as everyone leapt to challenge, the clearance fell right to Shevchenko. Without hesitation, he considered smashing it with power but realized accuracy was key. Instead, he expertly side-footed the ball. The connection was perfect, and it soared into the net.


    The stadium erupted. Shevchenko sprinted toward the Ipswich fans, cupping his hands to his ears as if to say, ¡¯I can¡¯t hear you now!¡¯ He soaked in the moment, loving every second of it. Meanwhile, City fans erupted in joyous celebration, jumping and cheering wildly all around the ground.


    Manchester City 4 ¨C 2 Ipswich Town.


    CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!


    As City took the lead with their second goal, the sound that filled Wembley wasn¡¯t the usual roar or applause. Instead, a strange, rhythmic clapping echoed through the stands.


    Curious glances spread among the crowd as everyone tried to figure out the source of this unusual noise. Then it became clear.


    "What is that? A banana?"


    Plastic bananas, waved and clapped together, bobbed up and down in the stands¡ªbright yellow flashes cutting through the sea of blue.


    Manchester City¡¯s Banana Invasion appeared once again!


    Laughter and cheers erupted as fans embraced the quirky tradition, their bright yellow props bouncing in unison, adding a playful soundtrack to City¡¯s dominant moment.


    The inflatable banana tradition amongst Manchester City fans started at their old Maine Road stadium in the 1980s and along with their infamous Poznan celebration.


    While everyone thought it was a joyous thing, the tradition actually has its roots in a dark period of English football, a decade marred by hooliganism alongside numerous incidents of racial abuse aimed at Black players.


    One of the most high-profile cases of racial abuse was suffered by John Barnes after he joined Liverpool from Watford in 1987, and more recently, William Gallas faced ugly scenes from Millwall supporters.


    While Gallas seemed completely indifferent due to his "I don¡¯t care" attitude, Barnes endured racist chants from rival supporters, and banana skins were even thrown at him.


    In an attempt to bring some fun back into the game¡ªlost due to these appalling actions on the terraces¡ªManchester City fan Frank Newton decided to bring an inflatable banana to the club¡¯s home game against Plymouth Argyle in August 1987.


    The inspiration came when Frank visited his friend and toy collector Allen Busby, who had a five-foot inflatable banana among his exhibits at home.


    Busby loaned Newton the banana on the condition that he could provide proof it had actually been taken to the game. Given it was a hot summer afternoon, Newton decided to remove his shirt and put it on the banana, even drawing a face and adding a bobble hat for effect.


    Ever since then, the inflatable banana has cemented its place in Manchester City folklore.


    And today, the banana appears once again¡ªnot as a message or protest, but as a symbol of support!


    At the 90th minute, from a perfectly delivered corner kick, Lilian Thuram rose above the crowd to powerfully head the ball into the net¡ªsending the City fans into an absolute frenzy.


    5-2!


    Manchester City had silenced the doubters and media critics who had predicted they would be crushed by Ipswich Town, especially after their recent 5-0 thrashing of Stoke City.


    The roar from the stands was deafening as they basically put the game well beyond Ipswich¡¯s reach.


    Just as another kickoff was about to take place, an unexpected turn of events occurred.


    When the referee blew the whistle to signal the end of the match, over forty thousand City fans in the stands erupted as if they had heard the most beautiful melody.


    Manchester City supporters watching the game on television began to celebrate frantically as well. Some cried tears of joy, others threw down bottles in elation, some lost themselves in wild cheers, and others kissed their jerseys as they clutched the team crest.


    They had waited far too long¡ªsuppressing their emotions for what felt like an eternity. How long had it been? Since Alan Ball¡¯s tenure, they had plunged into the darkness of the third tier of English football.


    Now, at long last, they were back.


    Many fans could not control their emotions; they longed to thank the heroes on the field and express their gratitude through hugs and kisses. As a result, they climbed over the stands and surged onto the pitch like a volcanic eruption¡ªunstoppable and overwhelming.


    Ipswich¡¯s players quickly retreated to their bench, huddling together to avoid being caught up in the chaos.


    The stadium security was caught off guard, as scenes like this had once plagued English football. The last thing ticket managers wanted was for large groups of fans to create disorder. The horrific memories of the Hillsborough disaster were still fresh, and today was a final¡ªwith an impending awards ceremony.


    Security personnel and police rushed onto the field to maintain order, but they were largely powerless to stop the crowd. All they could do was restrain a few overly emotional male fans whose reactions became too exaggerated.


    Bloody moron, what started as a splendid match ended in chaos, marred by thugs once again!


    "SIR!!!" Carl Morran shouted from the stands, calling out to Richard.


    They had already prepared for a scenario like this before the match.


    Somehow, Morran had managed to smuggle a portable microphone into Wembley Stadium. After installing the batteries and turning it on, he passed it to Richard, thinking the captain would deliver an inspiring speech to the fans¡­


    But the first thing that came out of Richard¡¯s mouth¡ªwas a curse.


    "Stop it! You motherf*ckers, stop it! Hey, you¡ªtake your filthy hands off that lady! And you¡ªdo you plan to kill that guy? Everyone, stop it, now!"


    On the pitch and in the stands, everyone froze, searching for the source of the voice. All eyes eventually turned toward the VIP box.


    Richard Maddox!


    City fans who didn¡¯t even know his face until now¡ªrecognized him instantly.


    His handsome face bore a cold yet resolute expression, and his commanding voice brought an instant hush over the stadium.


    As chaos began to swell within Wembley, Richard was momentarily stunned, but he quickly regained his composure. He knew he couldn¡¯t let the fans¡¯ celebration spiral into conflict with the police and security. That would be a catastrophe.


    He had to step up¡ªnot just as a voice of reason, but as the owner of the club.


    He had to take a stand.


    "Whatever you want to do¡ªsing and dance on this pitch, or take a commemorative photo¡ªit¡¯s all okay. But please, pay attention to those around you, especially the elderly and young children. Don¡¯t let anyone get hurt. Today, this moment, we should be celebrating together¡ªcreating memories we¡¯ll cherish forever."


    "Have you already forgotten what happened at The Den?! Do you want all the sacrifices of our City players to be in vain after we were docked 10 points because of your behavior? Then why did you bring that banana and go crazy with it again¡ªif all you¡¯re going to do is make City risk getting punished again because of your recklessness?!"


    Only then did everyone realize Richard¡¯s point.


    "Be respectful to the police officers and security teams. Don¡¯t run recklessly¡ªpay attention to safety. Sir, officers, I respect your work, but please have some understanding for us. Any damage caused¡ªCity will take full responsibility and cover all the costs."


    The police and security personnel exchanged confused glances. But after seeing their captain give a nod, they finally allowed the City fans onto the pitch.


    Richard¡¯s reminder pierced the hearts of every City supporter. This¡ªthis was a true club owner.


    He cared deeply for the club. He cared for the fans. And he was willing to step up when the situation grew dangerous or unstable.


    Moved by his sincerity, the City fans began to stand in an orderly fashion on the pitch, clapping and chanting the names of Richard and every player.


    Two promotions in two seasons. After the celebration, City players were too exhausted to do anything¡ªcertainly with no energy left to jump up and down in joy. In fact, a couple of pictures taken at the time show Cafu, Roberto Carlos, and Thuram sitting down¡ªhappy but completely whacked.

 Chapter 223: Peter Swales Remembered

    Manchester City didn¡¯t even have the chance to celebrate their final playoff victory before shocking news left fans, staff, and even Richard himself shocked.


    Former Manchester City chairman Peter Swales dies of a heart attack at 63!


    Richard immediately and unilaterally canceled all planned parades, celebrations, and victory events related to City¡¯s promotion. There would be no open-top buses, no fireworks, no party atmosphere. Instead, he declared an official period of mourning across the club.


    "This isn¡¯t the time to celebrate," Richard said firmly as he immediately called an emergency meeting with Robertson and his staff. "The celebration can wait¡ªfor now, we show respect. Make sure the players understand."


    Thankfully, this year¡¯s European Championship meant that many players¡ªsuch as Henrik Larsson, Jackie McNamara, Robbie Savage, Theodoros Zagorakis, Steve Finnan, and others¡ªhad already departed to join their national teams for pre-tournament preparations.


    Of course, not everyone was called up. A few players, like Rio Ferdinand and Jens Lehmann, were left behind¡ªclearly devastated by the omission.


    ¡¯In November 1973, he promised Manchester City fans the moon on a stick. Less than five months later, that plan was shelved¡ªthe moon stayed where it was, and the stick had to be wrapped and put away.¡¯


    ¡¯On May 1996, the very day Manchester City finally set foot back in the Premier League, their former chairman passed away.¡¯


    Richard arrived at Wythenshawe Hospital just after dawn, wearing a plain black coat.


    No entourage. No fanfare. Just quiet respect. The media hadn¡¯t caught wind of it yet¡ªand he preferred it that way.


    At the front desk, he quietly asked to see Peter Swales¡¯ family. He was led to a private room where they were huddled in grief¡ªSwales¡¯ wife, three daughters, and a few longtime friends like Umbro¡¯s John Humphreys, glass tycoon Joe Smith, Ian Niven, Chris Muir, and the Cussons heir, Simon Cussons.


    "Congratulations on getting your ticket back to the Premier League," Cussons said as he exchanged hugs with Richard.


    "Thank you¡ªand congratulations to you as well on the grand opening of your new factory in Thailand."


    Both men were undeniably the wealthiest figures in the room¡ªand everyone knew it. Their presence carried weight, not just because of their fortunes, but because of what they represented, so people naturally gave them space first.


    Later, the group was led to a small, cold room.


    Richard stood in silence. He looked at the man who, for all his flaws and failings, had carried the weight of City for two turbulent decades. Swales had been mocked, blamed, even vilified¡ªbut he had loved the club in his own way.


    Richard whispered to himself, ¡¯You didn¡¯t always get it right¡­ but you tried. And today, City came home. I hope you saw it.¡¯


    Done with their quiet farewell, they turned their attention toward Swales¡¯ family.


    Each offered heartfelt condolences, taking time to sit with them, listen, and provide support.


    "How are you all doing? With Peter no longer around, do you need any help?" Richard asked gently.


    As far as he knew, Swales¡¯ eldest daughter had just graduated from university. If they needed help, Richard was ready to offer it.


    "Thank you... thank you very much," Swales¡¯ wife said softly, trying to express her gratitude¡ªbut Richard gently held her hand first.


    As he walked out of the hospital, the weight of the morning stayed with him. But life, as always, moved forward.


    Richard called Barclays¡¯ Taylor Smith, asking him to consider Swales¡¯ daughter for a position¡ªanything that might offer stability in the days to come. Since she was a recent accounting graduate from Manchester Metropolitan University, a career in banking was the natural path forward.


    Richard had arrived alone, but not long after, Miss Heysen arrived on her own as well. They quietly agreed to return to Maine Road together. As Richard waited for her outside the hospital, the sun had begun to rise¡ªand with it, the press.


    Their attention quickly turned to Richard Maddox. This time, Richard didn¡¯t shy away from them.


    "Say what you want about Peter Swales¡ªgood or bad¡ªhe was still our chairman for a good twenty years. And although he walked a fine line between good and bad decisions, he could have been our savior. In the end, he became more of a target for our inability to produce success," Richard said, facing the press. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Swales eventually gave in to the pressure and stepped down. But the whole situation remains a stain on City¡¯s history. Stories of death threats against Swales and his family were widely circulated¡ªand if true, they were certainly a step too far. Whatever the truth, the ex-chairman stepped aside, and in 1992, a new one stepped in.


    After spotting Miss Heysen and John Humphreys walking together, Richard turned back to the reporters.


    "I understand you want to ask more, but let¡¯s keep it simple for today, shall we? There¡¯s a grieving family inside, and this is still a hospital. We have to respect people," he said, before stepping away and joining Miss Heysen and Humphreys in the waiting car.


    And with that, he left behind a bittersweet morning¡ªand went back to Maine Road.


    Inside the car, Richard shifted instantly into work mode.


    "What about the rooftop? Is it possible to finish before the Premier League starts?"


    "The Arup Group said building a roof based on your original design is nearly impossible, even with extra manpower. So, I decided to go with the simplest rooftop design to make construction easier. Still, we¡¯ll need additional workers, and it will probably cost more."


    Richard nodded, unfazed. "Good job. As long as the roof is finished before the season begins, everything else can be discussed. What about the pre-season? Do we have any another offers?"


    For this season, City will not be going on a pre-season tour abroad or otherwise, because there are already offers from Everton, Nottingham Forest, and West Ham United.


    "Arsenal submitted an offer for a match on July 28," she added, handing Richard the folder containing the details.


    "Arsenal?"


    Curious, Richard opened the folder and skimmed through the proposal¡ªonly to pause, confused.


    ¡¯Why is it still Bruce Rioch? Shouldn¡¯t it be Ars¨¨ne Wenger by now?¡¯


    He frowned, clearly puzzled by the outdated information, but after a moment of thought, he nodded.


    "Alright. Go ahead and confirm it. Let¡¯s make it official."


    The more matches City plays against Premier League teams, the better it will be for preparing them for the upcoming season.


    After that, their discussion turned to sponsorships and everything related to it¡ªbroadcast rights, branding opportunities, and commercial visibility.


    In the English First Division, Manchester City didn¡¯t have much recognition, and the sponsorship fees were pitifully low. However, with Sky Sports¡¯ huge success in broadcasting the Premier League, the brand value of the league quickly became apparent.


    Now that City has been promoted to the Premier League, the sponsorship fees may not skyrocket immediately, but every bit counts¡ªafter all, money is money, and you can never have too much of it.


    Broadcasting fees are usually dominated by the top teams, as it¡¯s typically their matches¡ªlike those of Manchester United, Newcastle, Arsenal, and Liverpool¡ªthat are broadcast most frequently. The rest often have to scramble for attention and settle for a smaller share of the spotlight.


    In the coming months, the club will begin a new round of sponsorship recruitment for stadium advertising. Richard plans to assign this task to Miss Heysen, as it naturally falls under the responsibilities of the club¡¯s CEO.


    "Brother¡ªour current main sponsor¡ªalso got in touch. They¡¯re looking to extend their sponsorship deal for another two years."


    Unlike in previous seasons, when City had to scramble to find sponsors, now every one of them was practically extending a hand first¡ªracing to secure a deal even before City had officially clinched promotion. Such is the allure of the Premier League.


    "What are they offering?"


    "If we secure promotion to the Premier League, they¡¯re prepared to pay ¡ê3 million per year."


    "How much are they paying us this season?"


    "¡ê2.5 million."


    He shook his head slowly. "That¡¯s not enough of a jump. If we make it to the Premier League, our visibility will explode. Do you know how many times our jersey sales this season have outstripped last year¡¯s? And what about next year? Just Henrik, Ronaldo, Cafu, and Roberto alone have already pushed sales to thirteen times the previous figures¡ªand that¡¯s not even counting Henry, who¡¯s suddenly caught fire in these last two matches."


    "Many of our players come from different countries and have immense potential. They¡¯re likely to become key members of their national teams and shine on the biggest stage. Ask them to double it¡ª¡ê5 million a year. If they want to stay on the front of the shirt while we¡¯re on the big stage, the deal has to reflect that."


    Miss Heysen jotted down a note, then gave a small, approving nod. "Understood. I¡¯ll take it back to them. With our trajectory, I doubt they¡¯ll walk away."


    Richard nodded in satisfaction. "Anything else I need to know?"


    Miss Heysen thought for a moment before replying briefly, "Probably. Since we¡¯ll be competing in the Premier League starting tomorrow, you might be interested in some recent developments."


    Richard immediately leaned in, curious.


    First, FIFA now mandates licensing for all football agents involved in transfers. The Premier League also announced a change to matchday squads¡ªteams can now name five substitutes instead of three, although only three can actually be used during a match.


    Second, Ruud Gullit has accepted Chelsea¡¯s offer to become their new player-manager, replacing Glenn Hoddle. Gullit is set to become the youngest manager in the Premier League and one of the first foreign managers in the English game.


    And third, Manchester United made history by becoming the first English team to complete the domestic ¡¯double¡¯ two years in a row. A late goal from Eric Cantona gave them a 1¨C0 win over Liverpool in the FA Cup final.


    "And fourth... please take a look at this," said Miss Heysen, already holding a newspaper in her hand. When Richard saw the headline, he almost cursed.


    With the season drawing to a close, all eyes were on the Premier League. The question on everyone¡¯s lips was whether Alex Ferguson¡¯s Manchester United or Kevin Keegan¡¯s Newcastle United would claim the title.


    In the end, it was Manchester United who lifted the trophy.


    But the celebrations were tempered by media scrutiny. After Eric Cantona¡¯s ban, United stumbled at crucial moments¡ªlosing at Anfield was one thing, but failing to win against Leeds, Spurs, or even a mediocre Chelsea side¡ªwithout scoring¡ªbrought even more attention to the struggles of United¡¯s attacking lineup.


    Despite leading the Premier League in goals, much of United¡¯s tally came from matches against smaller clubs that relied heavily on parking the bus, where they scored 11 goals across just two games.


    As for why Richard cursed, it was because when Ferguson was repeatedly questioned about how to fix the attack¡ªespecially its weaknesses in crucial matches¡ªhe mentioned a familiar name to the media: Henrik Larsson.


    First Solskj?r, and now they want Larsson?


    Richard felt a headache coming on.


    It seemed they needed to brace themselves for whatever was about to happen in the next few days.

 Chapter 224: The Prozone Analysis of Javier Zanetti

    The old fox, Alex Ferguson, had high praise for Henrik Larsson. He openly stated that Larsson deserved to wear the iconic red of Manchester United at Old Trafford, believing the striker¡¯s skill set was a perfect match for United¡¯s tactical approach. In Ferguson¡¯s eyes, Larsson wasn¡¯t just a good player¡ªhe was someone who could achieve great things with the club.


    Larsson, after all, had proven himself to be a top striker¡ªfinishing just behind Ronaldo in Manchester City¡¯s First Division campaign. Naturally, with City now earning promotion to the Premier League, the value of their players was bound to rise significantly.


    Still only 24 years old, he was entering his prime. Even with the gap in competition between the First Division and the Premier League, his talent was undeniable.


    The crucial question was: would Manchester City sell him?


    But more importantly¡ªcould they actually keep him?


    News was just news, after all.


    Of course, as a club, you can¡¯t let the media lead you by the nose. Over the past few days, Robertson had attended several interviews and press conferences regarding Henrik Larsson, and thankfully, there was a distraction¡ªEuro 1996. The media, usually relentless, had gone somewhat quiet. As is typical, real transfer drama wouldn¡¯t begin until after the tournament concluded.


    Richard, however, aimed to take the initiative.


    In the English Football League, standout players often attract attention from Premier League clubs first, and Richard knew that any interest in his team would most likely come from those top-tier teams.


    Now that Manchester City had secured promotion to the Premier League for the next season, Richard was determined to use transfer fees and wages as barriers to prevent the club¡¯s core players from being poached.


    In the first week after the Peter Swales affair was settled, he had already instructed Marina Granovskaia to begin contract renewals with all first-team players.


    By the second week of May, the club had started the process. Depending on their performance in the previous season, each player received a salary increase ranging from ¡ê6,000 to ¡ê15,000.


    This was a significant pay raise, with signing bonuses ranging between ¡ê20,000 and ¡ê50,000. Richard was truly investing heavily in the team.


    By the end of the season, the club¡¯s earnings had been carefully analyzed.


    Merchandise sales had surged throughout the season, generating nearly ¡ê500,000. Home attendance remained consistently near full capacity, even with a temporary reduction due to the partial closure of the Kippax Stand, completed midway through the campaign.


    Looking ahead, based on Miss Heysen¡¯s calculations, a near full capacity at Maine Road could bring in about ¡ê10,000 per match¡ªpotentially doubling the current season¡¯s income of ¡ê5 million.


    This estimate didn¡¯t even factor in additional revenue from broadcasting rights, sponsorship deals, and match bonuses. In light of all this, Richard¡¯s substantial investment was more than justified.


    Ronaldo and William Gallas were the most important signings, as Richard and Marina disbursed ¡ê50,000 signing bonuses directly and managed to get them to sign new contracts.


    As for Larsson, since he had just signed last season, he still has four years remaining on his contract. Plus, moving from City to United when City plays in the Premier League next season?


    Well, unless he wants to be abused by Manchester City fans throughout the season, he would at least need to move to another club before joining United¡ªso Richard doesn¡¯t worry about Larsson.


    However, and quite unexpectedly, it wasn¡¯t Henrik Larsson¡ªdespite all the buzz around him¡ªwho became the prime target of serious interest. Instead, the spotlight shifted to two other key members of Manchester City: Cafu and Roberto Carlos!


    Cafu had reportedly attracted strong interest from AS Roma, while Roberto Carlos caught the attention of Inter Milan.


    The current manager of Inter Milan, Roy Hodgson, even personally visited Martin O¡¯Neill at the hospital.


    The two had known each other for years¡ªdating back to when O¡¯Neill was managing Wycombe Wanderers and Hodgson was in charge of Bristol City. Though Roy Hodgson said he came to pay a visit, he naturally had a clear agenda: to inquire about Roberto Carlos.


    O¡¯Neill was very helpless with this because we were talking about a Serie A heavyweight reaching out to them. The Serie A name was no joke. Plus, with his hip replacement operation still in the recovery phase, he couldn¡¯t attend to it alone, leaving him no choice but to give full authority to Robertson, Richard, and Marina Granovskaia.


    "Roberto has already expressed his desire to move to Inter Milan," Marina Granovskaia told Richard as soon as Inter made their inquiry about Roberto Carlos.


    Richard sighed deeply.


    "We¡¯re fortunate Ronaldo is sidelined with a long-term injury; otherwise, I¡¯m sure clubs would be swarming to sign him."


    At a time like this, he truly wished the Premier League would soon overtake Serie A ¡ª not just in popularity, but in strength and prestige. Because only then could clubs like City keep their stars.


    "How much is the bid for Roberto?"


    "Six million."


    "Impossible!" Richard immediately shook his head, standing firm and demanding at least ten million pounds for City to let Roberto Carlos go.


    "What about Cafu?" sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Cafu got an offer of six million."


    Richard shook his head again. "Twelve million or there won¡¯t be any deal."


    For the next two days, the English Football Coaches Association dinner was held, and Robertson definitely encouraged O¡¯Neill to attend the event.


    Derby County¡¯s Jim Smith received the award for Best Manager in the First Division, while O¡¯Neill unexpectedly took third place after Crystal Palace¡¯s Steve Coppell.


    During the evening, Robertson had brief conversations with several Premier League managers. Many of them were interested in signing players from Manchester City, so they approached Robertson to gauge the situation.


    On the same day as the gala dinner, Richard held a meeting with Marina Granovskaia and Prozone¡¯s Ramm Mylvaganam.


    The agenda: how to use Prozone for scouting.


    The three of them then moved to a more spacious area, where Marina began explaining her ideas for the scouting team.


    The point was, Manchester City¡¯s scouting network had previously been limited to England and Ireland. All the foreign players had come in thanks to Richard¡¯s knowledge.


    That was about to change.


    Before Marina could continue, Richard turned to Mylvaganam. "I already asked you to analyze the performance of Inter Milan¡¯s right-back last season. How is it going?"


    Mylvaganam had been hesitant to complain to Richard these past few days. "You asked me to study this player, but the problem is the VHS tape we have isn¡¯t very extensive."


    "So it¡¯s a failure then?"


    "Of course not, but the accuracy might be slightly off. However, the hypothetical analysis module has already picked up most of it. Here it is."


    Richard exchanged a glance with Marina before nodding.


    [...Javier Zanetti ¡ª Position: Right Full-Back


    Performance Metrics:


    Distance Covered: ~11-12 km per match(Known for tireless running up and down the flank)


    Successful Pass Rate: ~85%(Reliable distributor, good short and medium-range passing)


    Tackles Won: High (5-7 per match)(Strong defensive presence, intercepts well)


    Interceptions: 3-5 per game(Good positional awareness)


    Crosses Delivered: 3-6 per match, with ~30-40% accuracy(Good ability to support attack from wide areas)


    Duels Won: Around 60-65%(Competitive in 1v1 defensive and aerial duels)


    ...]


    For the 1995/1996 season, Zanetti only played 4 matches, so their reference data was somewhat limited. But that wasn¡¯t what Richard was focusing on; rather, it was how Prozone literally translated a player¡¯s abilities into data.


    Although the data was still very basic, Richard was very satisfied with this.


    "What do you think?" Richard asked Marina as he studied the data.


    "Energetic, versatile, strong defensively, and great stamina. He is able to run up and down just like Cafu. I think he¡¯s a good choice."


    "Is that so?" Richard nodded before telling Marina about the second player from AS Roma that he had his eye on.


    The future prince of Rome!


    Before that, Richard turned to Mylvaganam and said, "Manchester City was interested in Prozone; however, I have a better proposition than just making an investment."


    What Richard offered was essentially a place where Prozone could be developed at Maine Road. In exchange, Mylvaganam could use current City players and their match-after-match data to further develop Prozone.


    A win-win solution.


    City would get analysis for free, and Mylvaganam himself could advance Prozone, especially with all the modules he is currently working on.


    ¡¯I¡¯ll give you three days to think about it,¡¯ Richard said as he turned towards Marina Granovskaia.


    "As for Roberto and Cafu¡¯s situation, this is what we will do."


    The next few days, just a day before Euro 1996, Manchester City responded to both Inter Milan and AS Roma.


    For Roberto Carlos, Manchester City asked for only ¡ê5 million instead of the original ¡ê10 million but expressed strong interest in including Javier Zanetti as part of the deal.


    Meanwhile, for Cafu, the club set their price at ¡ê6 million, down from ¡ê12 million, and also showed interest in acquiring Francesco Totti.


    ¡¯Now, how would you respond to this, Roma?¡¯


    Although Totti already plays regularly for AS Roma, the manager who trusted him, Carlo Mazzone, has just left the club. He was replaced by Carlos Bianchi, who said he will loan Totti to Sampdoria.


    Rather than loaning him, it would be better to offload Totti in exchange for Roberto Carlos, right?


    As for Javier Zanetti, he is still a backup to Giuseppe Bergomi, making the deal more feasible compared to Totti from Roma.

 Chapter 225: Maddox Group Inspection

    When Richard made the decision on the spot to slash the price by 50%, AS Roma¡¯s upper management was thrown into turmoil.


    Currently, Cafu was already recognized as one of the best right-backs, at least an ideal fit for Roma¡¯s current system. The club needed a reliable and dynamic full-back, someone capable of making overlapping runs, providing width, and delivering accurate crosses. Cafu¡¯s style of play perfectly matched the tactical direction Roma was aiming for.


    Italian clubs in the 1990s were increasingly investing in South American talent¡ªparticularly Brazilians¡ªdue to their technical skills and flair. Having Aldair at Roma may have also helped convince Cafu to join them


    The problem was the ¡ê12 million price tag, which would consume Roma¡¯s entire transfer budget. And now, Manchester City decided to cut the price to just ¡ê6 million¡ªplus Francesco Totti. This sparked intense conflict between the upper management and the current manager.


    New manager Carlos Bianchi was even willing to let Totti leave for Manchester City, which made Richard grin at the outcome. However, just as the deal was about to go through, Roma chairman Franco Sensi blocked the transfer at the last minute!


    Mr. Sensi even decided to fly to Manchester to meet City¡¯s representative at the time¡ªMarina Granovskaia.


    After the meeting, Marina immediately turned to Richard for a decision.


    "Roma will only pay a maximum of 24 billion lire for Cafu. Anything more, and they¡¯ll walk away."


    24 billion lire¡ªroughly ¡ê10 million¡ªand no Francesco Totti.


    Richard sighed. It seemed the Prince of Rome was destined to remain... the Prince of Rome.


    Thinking about it, Richard was in a dilemma. Did he really want to sell Cafu? Naturally, no.


    "What did Cafu say about this?"


    What else?


    It¡¯s Serie A we¡¯re talking about¡ªthe best league in the world.


    Thankfully, Richard had already thought ahead and was searching for a replacement for Cafu: Javier Zanetti.


    While the deal for Cafu had the green light from the manager but was blocked by the chairman, the situation with Javier Zanetti was the exact opposite. Roy Hodgson wanted to keep Javier Zanetti, but Inter¡¯s chairman, Massimo Moratti, was keen on acquiring Roberto Carlos.


    Naturally, Richard didn¡¯t want to lose both Roberto Carlos and Cafu.


    The best-case scenario for City was: even if they lost Cafu, they would still have Roberto Carlos at left-back and Javier Zanetti at right-back.


    With that plan in mind, Richard personally met with Roberto Carlos. But he didn¡¯t expect his words to offend the player instead.


    Richard knew exactly how things were going for Roberto Carlos at Inter Milan¡ªit wasn¡¯t going well. Roy Hodgson, instead of playing him as a left-back, used him as a winger, which contributed to a disappointing season.


    Richard didn¡¯t tell Roberto Carlos the future, but he hinted that Carlos might not be ready for Serie A yet. That remark left Roberto Carlos feeling disrespected and dissatisfied.


    In the end, City¡¯s vice-captain fell out with Richard and became determined to leave for Inter Milan to prove himself, leaving Richard speechless.


    ¡¯It¡¯s fine though,¡¯ Richard thought to himself. ¡¯We still have Zambrotta and Steve Finnan to cover Roberto¡¯s absence.¡¯


    So, Richard instructed Marina Granovskaia to agree to Inter Milan¡¯s offer: ¡ê5 million plus Javier Zanetti in exchange for Roberto Carlos.


    "What about Roma and Cafu?"


    "What else can we do? When Cafu joined City in the first place, I already promised him I would never stand in his way if he wanted to leave."


    As the captain of the Brazilian national team, Richard was reluctant to end things on bad terms with Cafu.


    The problem was, Cafu had significant influence over the other Brazilian players. That¡¯s why Richard hoped that later, if City ever turned their eyes toward young Brazilian talent, having Cafu¡¯s endorsement could open doors that money couldn¡¯t. At the very least, he could put in a good word.


    After wrapping up the Roberto Carlos and Cafu affair, Richard took a brief step away from the intense world of football. He boarded his private jet and flew straight to London, where the British International Motor Show was being held at the iconic Earls Court Exhibition Centre.


    This time, he didn¡¯t show up in his usual Porsche.


    Instead, he arrived behind the wheel of his brand-new customized McLaren F1¡ªa long-awaited masterpiece that had finally arrived! (Chapter 61) S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As the engine roared to life, Richard felt the vibration through the carbon fiber monocoque. The naturally aspirated BMW V12 behind him growled like a predator, held back only by his own restraint. He pressed the accelerator, and the McLaren surged forward like a bullet, the needle climbing past 100 km/h in just over three seconds.


    Richard was thrilled as London¡¯s narrow streets blurred into streaks of color, weaving through traffic with effortless control. Upon arrival, he pulled up in front of Earls Court, the low-slung hypercar glinting beneath the pale afternoon sun.


    Today¡¯s Agenda: The Rover Group is set to launch its third car following the takeover by the Maddox Group!


    After the successful release of the Rover 100 and the Rover 100 Cabriolet, the group is now unveiling its first-ever sports car¡ªa bold new model designed to compete head-to-head with the Mazda MX-5, BMW Z3, and Toyota MR2.


    The stage lights bathed the podium in brilliance as the crowd inside Earls Court Exhibition Centre fell silent. The large Rover Group banner hung proudly overhead, now stamped with the sleek new Maddox Group logo.


    Alan Mulally, standing tall in a dark suit, stepped up to the microphone. He paused for a moment, letting the tension build.


    "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice calm but powerful, "today marks not just the launch of a car¡ªbut the rebirth of a British icon."


    Behind him, the curtain lifted.


    There it stood: MG F ¡ª Mark I.


    Sleek. Balanced. Proudly mid-engined. Its design had been shaped under the watchful eye of Rover Special Projects, with expert input from outside contractors to determine its perfect configuration.


    Mulally continued: "Powered by a 1.8-litre K-Series 16-valve engine, the Rover F offers two exciting options: a standard 118-horsepower version and a VVC (Variable Valve Control) variant producing 143 horsepower. And yes¡­ it¡¯s fast enough to make you forget you¡¯re not in Stuttgart or Tokyo."


    The crowd chuckled.


    "But what really sets this car apart," he said, walking over and placing a hand on the roof, "is its ride. The Hydragas suspension¡ªa system of interconnected fluid and gas displacers¡ªgives it a feel unlike any other in its class."


    "This isn¡¯t just our response to our competitor but also the explanation for why most sports cars are always expensive. Here¡¯s a chart showing affordable sports cars in Britain."


    Model ¡ª Price Range (GBP) ¡ª Notes


    Mark I: ¡ê14,000 ¨C ¡ê18,000 (Affordable British sports car)


    Mazda MX-5: ¡ê16,000 ¨C ¡ê18,000 (The biggest rival in the segment)


    Toyota MR2: ¡ê18,000 ¨C ¡ê20,000 (Mid-engine, slightly pricier)


    BMW Z3: ¡ê20,000 ¨C ¡ê25,000 (More premium, more expensive)


    A few gasps from the more technically inclined journalists followed before the crowd erupted in applause. As flashbulbs popped and cameras rolled, Mullaly smiled.


    He could already see it: the MG F would quickly shoot to the top of the affordable sports car charts in Britain and remain there until he said it was time to stop.


    This was just the beginning.


    After finishing the Rover Group presentation, Richard did not disturb Alan Mulally or Fay Loan. Instead, he immediately went to his two hotels, both currently fully operated under Maddox Group properties, which are now rebranding as Maddox Construction and Property Management under CEO Stuart Olm.


    Stuart reported directly to Richard about two key programs for the hotels: "We are rolling out a targeted advertising campaign aimed at European travelers, which is expected to boost bookings in the upcoming quarter. Additionally, environmental programs focusing on waste reduction are being developed in line with emerging industry trends."


    Rising operational costs, notably in energy and staffing, require ongoing management attention. However, overall, Richard was satisfied with how the two hotels have gained a solid foothold in the hotel industry.


    Renaissance St Pancras London ¨C Report


    [...


    Revenue stands at approximately ¡ê9.2 million for the quarter, marking a steady growth of 5% compared to the previous quarter.


    Occupancy rates average around 78%, slightly above the London city average.


    ARR has increased slightly to ¡ê245, supported by higher demand for premium rooms.


    RevPAR shows a positive trend, driven by strong weekend bookings


    ...]


    The Biltmore Mayfair Hotel


    [...


    Recorded revenue is ¡ê7.8 million this quarter, showing a 3% increase year-over-year.


    Occupancy shows a positive trend, driven by solid corporate bookings.


    Average Room Rate (ARR) remains at ¡ê185.


    RevPAR holds steady, supported by consistent corporate bookings


    ...]


    After concluding his engagements with Rover Group and Maddox Construction and Property Management, Richard now headed toward Maddox Entertainment, where his brother currently served as CEO.


    According to the latest quarterly report from Maddox Entertainment, Richard was aware that Harry¡ªhis brother¡ªwas actively working on launching a girl group to compete with the wave of boy bands dominating the UK pop music scene.


    "I know," Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But it¡¯s not enough to just rely on Radiohead and Oasis. The market¡¯s shifting. Boy bands and girl groups¡ªthat¡¯s where the money is now. The pie¡¯s massive, and we¡¯re not even cutting into it yet."


    Richard leaned back, arms crossed. "What happened to the three boys I introduced you to?"


    "You mean Kian, Mark, and Shane?" Harry nodded. "They¡¯re in the dormitory. Talented, no doubt. But like you said, the group needs five. I¡¯m still searching for the final two."


    He wasn¡¯t wrong. Westlife¡ªthough the name hadn¡¯t yet been decided¡ªwas destined to be a five-piece. And that exact combination would soon define a generation.


    Richard didn¡¯t say anything. He simply pulled a pen from his coat pocket, leaned over Harry¡¯s desk, and wrote down two names with confident strokes: Nicky Byrne and Brian McFadden.


    "These two complete the picture."


    Harry stared at the names, his eyes lighting up. Then a frown formed.


    "Wait... how do you know them? Have you already checked their vocals? Their stage presence?"


    "Do you really think I¡¯d bring names to the table without doing my homework?"


    Harry laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I get it. That¡¯s why you¡¯re you." He picked up the paper carefully, like it was gold.


    He never doubted Richard¡¯s instinct for people. Just look at Manchester City¡ªhalf their current talent came through Richard¡¯s brain alone. Now, they were Premier League contenders. If Richard said these two were the missing pieces... they were.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


    Just as the two brothers were deep in discussion, a knock came at the door. Harry¡¯s fiancee, Sarah, stepped in with a folder in her hands. She paused, surprised to see Richard sitting there.


    "A surprise inspection? Harry didn¡¯t tell me you were coming," she said, raising an eyebrow.


    Richard smiled, rising slightly to greet her. "Nothing that formal. I¡¯m just stopping by," he said casually. Then, noticing the folder in her hands, he added with interest, "Another report?"


    Sarah nodded and walked in, comfortable in Richard¡¯s presence¡ªhe was family, after all. She sat down beside Harry and handed him the file.


    "It¡¯s about the new girl group Harry¡¯s been working on," she began, her voice more serious now. "The girls are starting to feel insecure. Some are even thinking of leaving the company."


    Harry frowned, flipping through the pages.


    "I tried to persuade them to stay," Sarah continued, "but without official contracts in place, they¡¯re frustrated with how things are being managed. They feel like the direction keeps shifting, and they don¡¯t see a clear future here."


    Richard exchanged a glance with Harry, who looked troubled.


    Richard knew that creating this girl group wasn¡¯t a spontaneous idea. Over the past year, Harry had been laying the groundwork carefully. He had even organized an open audition, placing an advertisement in the trade paper The Stage, calling for female singers to try out for an all-girl pop group. The auditions were held at London¡¯s Danceworks studios.


    The response was overwhelming¡ªapproximately 400 women showed up, each chasing a dream.


    The audition process was rigorous. The hopefuls were placed into groups of ten and asked to perform a dance routine to "Stay" by Eternal. After that, each contestant had a solo audition, performing a song of their own choice.


    It was a tough selection process, but it was clear: Harry was serious about finding the best talent.


    Richard had no intention of interfering with Harry and Sarah¡¯s work. This was their project.That was, until Harry suddenly tossed a folder onto the table in front of him.


    "Help me look through this," Harry said, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Tell me if you see anything promising."


    Richard¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡¯Why are you dragging me into this?¡¯


    Even Sarah looked surprised, but she stayed quiet, watching the tension rise between the two brothers.


    With a reluctant sigh, Richard picked up the folder¡ªbut not before asking the obvious question.


    "Why are you still refusing to offer those girls a contract?"


    There was a pause. Harry said nothing.


    He and Sarah exchanged a glance. Finally, it was Sarah who answered on his behalf.


    "After the five women were selected for the group, they made some¡­ unexpected changes. They unilaterally added a rap section to one of the songs Harry had carefully written for them¡ªand insisted on keeping it."


    Harry had been furious. He felt they were being reckless with something he¡¯d crafted so deliberately.


    She hesitated, then added, "Harry told them that if they couldn¡¯t learn to write songs properly and work as a team, there would be no contract."


    Richard listened in silence.


    Sarah continued more cautiously now. "And now, after producing a new track called Sugar and Spice, they¡¯re asking to change the group¡¯s name¡ªfrom Touch to Spice."


    She glanced at Harry before finishing, "Touch was a name Harry personally chose. He took it¡­ a little too personally."


    In other words, it was an ego problem.


    Richard shook his head before opening the folder and carefully looking at the names one by one:


    Victoria Adams, Melanie Brown, Melanie Chisholm, Geraldine Halliwell, Emma Bunton.


    What could Richard say?


    They had almost missed the chance to sign what could become the most iconic and best-selling British girl group of all time.


    Richard decided this time, his big brother wasn¡¯t getting off easy.


    Why would someone with an Oxford degree in business management feel the need to interfere with the creative work of a group of girls who had clearly spent years immersed in music?


    Sarah looked visibly surprised. For the first time, she saw just how directly Richard was rebuking his brother¡ªnot just as family, but as the current Chairman of the Maddox Group.

 Chapter 226 - 1996/1997 Season Jersey Design

    With his business wrapped up at Maddox Group, Richard wasted no time the following morning. As the sun crept over the skyline, he carefully guided his McLaren F1 out of the underground garage and made his way to Maine Road.


    There, tucked away in a secluded, guarded corner near the stadium grounds, he parked the McLaren. The car would rest there, out of sight, until the next moment he needed that rush.


    From the same facility, he pulled out his more modest¡ªbut still powerful¡ªPorsche, his daily driver. It was a practical choice by his standards, though even Richard''s version of "practical" could go from 0 to 60 in under five seconds, with a cabin lined in custom Alcantara.


    Time has passed, and now it''s June 8th¡ªthe moment has arrived for UEFA Euro 1996 to begin.


    However, just as Euro ''96 was about to begin, as expected, some of City''s players received offers from other clubs¡ªand a few had already submitted transfer requests.


    What surprised the management was that six players had expressed their intention to leave¡ªand not just fringe players. Among them were two goalkeepers: Richard Wright and Nicky Weaver.


    If both were to depart suddenly, wouldn''t City be left dangerously short between the posts?


    "Do you know why they all suddenly want to leave at the same time?" Richard asked, clearly confused, as he turned to Marina Granovskaia, who was overseeing the matter.


    Marina exhaled slowly. "Well..."


    "First, it''s about playing time. Since the arrivals of Jens Lehmann, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara, Theodoros Zagorakis, and Robbie Savage, both Martin O''Neill and John Robertson have clearly prioritized them in the starting lineup. That''s left a number of the old guard¡ªplayers inherited from the Alan Ball era¡ªfeeling sidelined.


    But that wasn''t the only issue.


    "They''re also deeply uncomfortable with the major changes City is undergoing¡ªespecially in your high-performance department," she added cautiously. "They''re just¡­ not used to this kind of environment."


    Many of the homegrown or long-serving players were struggling to adapt to the club''s new professional standards and structure.


    Previously, meals were straightforward and traditional¡ªhigh-fat, high-carb dishes like steak and chips. Now, players were placed on personalized meal plans, complete with supplements. Clubs even hired dedicated nutritionists to oversee their diets.


    Training, once focused primarily on stamina and long-distance running, had shifted to include strength conditioning. Post-match recovery now involved mandatory ice baths, compression therapy, and strict cooldown routines.


    In other words¡ªit was too much change, too fast. And for many of them, it felt like it came at the cost of fun, camaraderie, and family time.


    "When the club pays you every week, and you still expect fun, camaraderie, and family time every single day? How many matches do we play? Once a week. And the club only asks for an extra hour after each game," Richard grumbled, his frustration clear.


    He picked up the list of names, scanning them aloud: Richard Wright, Nicky Weaver, Richard Jobson, Jamie Pollock, Graham Fenton, Steve Lomas.


    Indeed, all of these players were holdovers from Alan Ball''s era.


    "So, what did O''Neill and Robertson say about this?"


    "I''ve already reached out to them. They''ve given us the green light to move forward with the transfers."


    Richard folded the paper thoughtfully. "And how much have we been offered if we sold them all? How many bids have come in?"


    "About five million pounds so far," came the reply.


    Richard nodded slowly, weighing the situation before he said, "What about Zanneti and the Inter Milan situation?" S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Tomorrow, I will go to Milan to discuss the contract terms for Javier. We''ve already accepted the bid for Roberto, and Inter is ready to release Javier."


    Richard tapped his fingers on the table, deep in thought. "Do you remember the two players we visited last year in Italy, Gianluigi Buffon and Andrea Pirlo?"


    "The ones from Parma and Brescia?"


    "Exactly." Richard nodded seriously before instructing, "Submit another bid for those two players. Bring them here at all costs."


    With Richard Wright and Nicky Weaver both submitting transfer requests, it meant that for the next season, Jens Lehmann would be Manchester City''s only primary goalkeeper. At the very least, the club would need a reliable backup. Eighteen-year-old Buffon was naturally the best choice.


    Then there were Jamie Pollock, Graham Fenton, and Steve Lomas¡ªall midfielders. Richard was determined not to keep players who were only half-committed to the club, especially if they couldn''t adapt to the high standards set at City. Andrea Pirlo was definitely capable of covering all their roles. He was a complete package, a mythical player, if Richard could say so.


    The only one who worried Richard was Richard Jobson, the current left-back backup for Roberto Carlos. Initially, it was a concern¡ªbut considering the presence of Gallas and Thuram, the left-back position was actually still well-covered for next season.


    "We just need to follow up on last year''s discussion," Richard said calmly.


    "Understood. If there''s nothing else, I''ll take my leave," Marina replied with a respectful nod before turning toward the door.


    Richard nodded in return, watching her exit his office with quiet efficiency.


    Time passed, and the UEFA Euro ''96 group stage slowly came to an end.


    First match ¨C 8 June, Wembley: England 1¨C1 Switzerland.


    England took an early lead, but Switzerland equalized late in the match with a penalty.


    Second match ¨C 15 June, Wembley: England 2¨C0 Scotland.


    David Seaman saved a crucial penalty from Gary McAllister, and Paul Gascoigne followed it up with a world-class solo goal. He then celebrated with the now-iconic "dentist chair" pose, which instantly became a symbol of the tournament.


    Just after the match against Scotland ended, an incident occurred that shocked not only England but all of Europe¡ªand the world.


    On Saturday, 15 June 1996, the Irish Republican Army (IRA) detonated a massive truck bomb in the heart of Manchester city centre. The explosion was one of the largest on British soil during peacetime.


    The IRA issued a 90-minute warning via phone calls, allowing the police to begin evacuating over 75,000 people from the area.


    Remarkably, no one was killed, but more than 200 people were injured¡ªsome seriously. The early warning and the quick response from law enforcement likely saved many lives.


    The damage, however, was staggering. Over half a billion pounds'' worth of destruction was recorded. More than 1,200 buildings were damaged, many of which had to be demolished or entirely rebuilt.


    Fortunately, Maine Road¡ªwhere Richard lived and where many of his employees and staff resided¡ªwas located in a quieter residential area, far from the blast. No one in his immediate circle was harmed.


    But Richard acted fast.


    The first thing he did was place a call to Fay. Acting swiftly on behalf of Rover Group, he instructed her to mobilize support for the bombing victims in Manchester. The gesture wasn''t purely corporate¡ªRichard genuinely cared¡ªbut he also understood that in times of tragedy, compassion spoke louder than any advertisement.


    "Organize emergency transport. Offer our facilities as shelter if needed. And send our mechanics to assist with damaged vehicles in the area."


    It was a decisive move that not only provided real aid to the shaken community but also earned Rover Group widespread positive exposure in the media. In the headlines the next day, the company wasn''t just another corporate name¡ªit became a symbol of solidarity in a time of crisis.


    The second call Richard made was to Stuart Olm, head of Maddox Construction and Property Management.


    "Maddox Group will inject another ¡ê100 million," Richard said firmly. "Our top priority is the damaged buildings¡ªespecially those whose owners are willing to sell during this uncertain time. We''ll focus on structurally compromised sites near the blast radius. This is our window. Many will be unsure of what to do, and we can offer them a way out."


    Stuart understood immediately. Crises caused hesitation in some¡ªbut opened opportunity for others.


    "We''ll target commercial blocks and old mixed-use buildings," Stuart confirmed. "Especially those without insurance, or with owners who are too overwhelmed to recover. We''ll offer clean buyouts and handle all the paperwork quickly."


    "Good," Richard replied. "We''re not just buying property¡ªwe''re helping rebuild Manchester''s confidence."


    Over the next 48 hours, Maddox agents moved swiftly through the city, identifying viable acquisitions and offering fair but firm deals. For some property owners, it was a much-needed lifeline. For Maddox, it was an opportunity to turn devastation into renewal¡ªand cement their position at the heart of Manchester''s recovery.


    Naturally, the incident disrupted the atmosphere surrounding Euro 1996. However, it also led to strengthened security protocols across the UK. With these measures in place, the tournament was able to continue as planned.


    Third match ¨C 18 June, Wembley: England 4¨C1 Netherlands.


    Arguably England''s best performance of the tournament. They dominated a highly-rated Dutch side with confidence and flair, securing a commanding win.


    England topped the group with 7 points, and fans across the country erupted with excitement. Their beloved Three Lions were through to the quarterfinals¡ªlooking strong, united, and full of promise.


    With the group stage concluded, it is now certain that England will face Spain in the quarterfinal.


    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK


    Just as Richard was gathering his thoughts¡ªwondering if there was anything he might have overlooked for the upcoming season¡ªa sharp knock echoed from the office door.


    "Come in," he called out.


    He was still in his office at Maine Road, working as usual.


    The door creaked open, and Miss Heysen entered, clutching a folder tightly to her chest.


    "Richard, Umbro just faxed over the design for next season''s jersey. Please take a look at this."


    Richard''s eyes lit up.


    John Humphreys, the owner of Umbro, who had tripled their sponsorship this year, said they had a very special design for the upcoming season to celebrate City''s return to the Premier League.


    Naturally, Richard couldn''t wait to see the jersey.


    1. Home Kit (Home Jersey)


    2. Away Kit (Away Jersey)


    3. Third Kit (Alternative Kit)


    4. Goalkeeper Kit


    5. Training Kit (Jacket)


    The home kit, as expected, proudly retained Manchester City''s iconic sky blue color¡ªan identity that had become synonymous with the club over the decades.

 Chapter 227: Transfer Business and the New Rooftop

    In a tense and hard-fought quarter-final at Euro ''96, England held their nerve to beat Spain 4¨C2 on penalties ¡ª a rare moment of shootout success for the Three Lions that sent the nation into raptures.


    The streets across Britain erupted in celebration as fans rejoiced, waving flags and singing anthems late into the night. It was a moment that reignited hope and pride across the country, with newspapers hailing it as a defining chapter in English football history.


    For once, the dreaded penalty shootout was a cause for jubilation rather than heartbreak.


    With the victory in the quarter-final secured, it was all but certain that England would face Germany in the semi-final ¡ª a matchup steeped in history and fierce rivalry.


    Thanks to the England and Germany hype, Manchester City quietly completed their transfer business. Still, for passionate City fans, news like this spread everywhere.


    City supporters began organizing petitions, banners at matches, and letters urging the club''s management not to let Cafu and Roberto Carlos leave.


    "No way you''re leaving! Roberto, we''re building something great here, and you''re part of it!"


    "From Maine Road to glory¡ªstay and help us get there!"


    "Stay with us, Cafu! We need your pace and passion on the right!"


    "Manchester City fans from all over are united in one message: keep our heroes where they belong. We''re ready to back you every step of the way."


    Local media picked up on the story, turning it into a public campaign. Fans emphasized how key these players are to the team''s identity and success.


    "City Fans Rally to Save Their Stars"


    "Cafu and Roberto Carlos: City''s Twin Pillars for the past two seasons ¡ª will their Premier League departure to AS Roma and Inter Milan leave Manchester City in crisis?"


    There was no official response from Manchester City''s club management regarding the fans'' emotional outpouring. However, behind the scenes, Richard was already moving swiftly.


    He had already reached out to Carl Morran of the City Blazing Squad, whose reputation had grown far beyond just chants and waving flags. The reason?


    He and his Blazing Squad¡ªyoung men, many of whom had boxing backgrounds¡ªhad recently made headlines for dismantling the notorious "Guvnors," leaving the rival firm fractured and disbanded.


    With figures like these standing watch, how could any lone-wolf fan even dare to do something reckless¡ªlike damaging property or engaging in suspicious behavior?


    Richard made his instructions clear: "We welcome passion, but absolutely no violence, no damage to property, and no intimidation. Let them protest¡ªpeacefully."


    Carl understood. He may have grown up in rough neighborhoods, but he now knew what it meant to protect something bigger than himself¡ªthe club, the community, and its future.


    Within hours, word spread across Manchester''s football circles.


    "Anyone thinking of getting clever, smashing things up¡ªthink again," Carl warned through underground supporter channels. "We don''t riot in our own house. That''s not loyalty¡ªthat''s betrayal."


    Naturally, no one knew about the quiet deal between Richard and the Blazing Squad. no one know that most of these young men had been able to attend school and help support their families thanks to financial backing from Richard.


    With Carl and his crew discreetly acting as stewards and peacekeepers, the situation around Maine Road remained tense but under control. Fans continued waving banners and singing songs pleading for Cafu and Roberto Carlos to stay¡ªbut they did so respectfully and without incident.


    Richard was satisfied with the results.


    "When the new stadium is ready, I''ll give you and your Blazing Squad a basecamp. You can launch a new business there¡ªor keep growing your current printing company."


    Since their last tifo banner campaign had been a huge success, the Blazing Squad began taking their Tifo-Branded Printing Company seriously. But being based in Manchester, not London¡ªwhere clubs like Arsenal, Chelsea, Tottenham, West Ham, and Millwall offered a much larger customer base¡ªthey needed to be strategic.


    If the Blazing Squad truly wanted to turn this into a real business, they needed to expand beyond just tifo banners. They could offer digital sublimation printing for all kinds of clients¡ªnot only football clubs but schools, festivals, and corporate events too. By becoming a trusted outsourced partner for large-format, high-quality fabric printing, their business had real potential to grow far beyond the terraces.


    Carl Morran was excited¡ªbut more than that, deeply grateful.


    "I''ll bring this back to the lads," he said, his voice firm but respectful. "We''ll talk it through. They deserve to hear it first."


    Richard gave a quiet nod in return, a satisfied glint in his eye. He patted Carl''s shoulder. "No rush," Richard said, rising to his feet.


    The two men parted ways outside Ric Turner''s pub, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. Carl turned toward the estates to find his crew. Richard climbed into his waiting car, heading back to Maine Road.


    The next day was the most eagerly awaited day across England¡ªan intense semifinal clash awaited as England prepared to face Germany in the Euro ''96 showdown. The whole nation was buzzing with hope, dreams of finally becoming European champions alive in every heart.


    But football can be cruel. After a hard-fought 1¨C1 draw through regular and extra time, England''s hopes were shattered in a tense penalty shootout.


    Germany edged the victory, ending England''s dream of lifting the European Championship trophy for the first time.


    The disappointment rippled through the country like a heavy fog, but the team''s valiant effort was undeniable.


    Four days later, Germany lifted the European Championship trophy after a thrilling 2¨C1 victory over the Czech Republic at Wembley.


    For many England fans, the defeat still stung deeply, but Germany''s triumph brought a bittersweet sense of consolation. After all, their national team had been ousted by the eventual champions ¡ª a small comfort that somewhat softened the blow.


    Naturally, after Euro 1996, all the top European clubs finally geared up for the real transfer season.


    For Manchester City, the post-Euro period marked a crucial window to finalize their squad and build momentum for the Premier League campaign.


    The first announcement was the departure of Roberto Carlos and Cafu, who transferred to Inter Milan and AS Roma respectively for a combined fee of ¡ê15 million. Along with this, it was also announced that Javier Zanetti had been signed as part of the deal.


    Javier Zanetti would take Richard Jobson''s number 4 shirt.


    Next to be announced was the departure of several City players who decided to leave the club for good: Richard Wright, Nicky Weaver, Jamie Pollock, Graham Fenton, Steve Lomas, and Richard Jobson were sold collectively for ¡ê5 million.


    "Phew," Richard muttered, looking at the zero followed by the two-digit number on the check he held.


    Truly, the buying and selling of players was a ruthless business. The transfer window hadn''t even opened yet, but City had already managed to record player sales totaling ¡ê20 million.


    The third announcement, unexpectedly, was still from Manchester City, with Gianluigi Buffon and Andrea Pirlo expected to join as their second and third signings of the season!


    For Gianluigi Buffon, staying at Parma was naturally his first choice, as Serie A is a very serious league to consider. But the moment Marina Granovskaia flew to Parma and explained City''s current goalkeeper shortage¡ªwith only Jens Lehmann available¡ªhe didn''t hesitate. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At just 18 years old, Buffon was still young and could get valuable playing time before eventually returning to Italy. At least for someone who had only recently started gaining experience as a goalkeeper, game time was the priority.


    As for Andrea Pirlo, Brescia aimed to mold him into the next Roberto Baggio. Yet Pirlo understood his own limitations: he couldn''t match Baggio''s pace or his ability to combine speed with ball control.


    What City offered him was an opportunity he simply couldn''t refuse.


    Manchester City''s flexible tactics, alternating between a 4-4-2 and 4-3-3 formation, would allow Pirlo to experiment with various positions throughout the season to find where he fit best. City would serve as the perfect stepping stone in his career.


    This proposition was too enticing to pass up.


    Richard knew that by positioning City as a stepping stone, both Buffon and Pirlo would be highly tempted to join the club, and this was exactly the trap he had already prepared for them.


    With Euro 1996 concluded and Manchester City ready for their first pre-season, another piece of good news came for the club.


    The roof of Maine Road was finally completed by the Arup Group!


    As everyone knew, Maine Road stadium was basically located in a residential area, making expansion impossible. This meant Richard had to think creatively to justify a significant ticket price increase to support the club''s revenue, especially since wages were rising every season.


    The solution was to upgrade the rooftops of Maine Road''s Main Stand, Platt Stand, and North Stand.


    The roof framework was already securely installed, and the surrounding scaffolding made it easy for the workers to move quickly and efficiently. This setup accelerated the construction process, allowing the team to complete the roofing in record time without compromising on quality or safety.


    With the new roof in place, the upgraded stands would not only provide better shelter for fans but also open up opportunities for enhanced facilities and premium seating¡ªboosting both comfort and revenue for Manchester City.


    When Richard inspected the new look of Maine Road, he was very satisfied.


    Finally, Maine Road was ready to welcome the Premier League season!

 Chapter 228: He who Forced Richard to Retire for Good

    Germany triumphed in the European Championship final with a 2¨C1 victory over the Czech Republic at Wembley, bringing an end to the unforgettable journey of Euro ''96.


    For the players, the end of the tournament marked the beginning of a well-earned vacation. But for the club''s staff, it was quite the opposite ¡ª the real battle had just begun.


    With the Euros concluded, the transfer season had officially kicked off, and the war for next season''s success was underway.


    On the very day the tournament ended, Richard gathered the entire first-team staff ¡ª especially the coaching unit ¡ª for a crucial meeting.


    With manager Martin O''Neill still recovering from an injury, assistant coach John Robertson stepped up to lead preparations, at least until O''Neill returned to full health.


    As the main employees and staffs filed into the meeting room and took their seats, Richard stood at the head of the table. He placed his hands firmly on the surface, commanding silence with a calm but authoritative gesture.


    "I was planning to summarize the season during today''s meeting, but I see it''s unnecessary now. So let''s keep it simple, shall we? With our current income levels, we may not afford superstars, but overall, we''re better compensated than the average top league player by over 30%."


    "..."


    "Last season, we managed to score 71 goals ¡ª that''s 21 more than Derby County and 27 more than Crystal Palace, who currently sit in second place in the league. So I assume, in the upcoming Premier League season, we should at least be able to break into the top six. Am I right?" Richard turned toward Robertson and the rest of the staff.


    "..."


    "So let''s make things clear for next season. I''m setting a three-tier target: a Top 10 finish will earn players and staff a 10% bonus; a Top 6 finish will increase the bonus to 25%; and if we win the Premier League, I will grant a 55% bonus on top of the current bonus structure."


    That would mean, for players, nearly four months'' worth of salary in bonuses ¡ª and for the coaching and support staff, almost nine months'' pay.


    How generous.


    But no one dared to say a word ¡ª because they were talking about the Premier League.


    No one felt confident enough to claim they were ready to take on the highest tier of English football just yet. But Richard didn''t want to hear any excuses.


    He looked Robertson directly in the eye and asked bluntly, "With the squad we have and the resources we''re putting in place, what''s your target? What do you realistically believe is achievable?"


    Robertson nodded thoughtfully before replying, "To be honest, what comes to mind first is survival. The Premier League is tough, and the margins are brutal. With the squad we have and if we avoid major injuries, I believe a top-half finish is realistic ¡ª especially considering the midfield."


    Goalkeepers (GK): Jens Lehmann, Gianluigi Buffon


    Defenders (DF): Javier Zanetti, Steve Finnan, Lilian Thuram, Rio Ferdinand, William Gallas, Marco Materazzi, Gianluca Zambrotta


    Midfielders (MF): Mark van Bommel, Robbie Savage, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara, Theodoros Zagorakis, Andea Pirlo


    Forwards (FW): Ronaldo, Henrik Larsson, Andriy Shevchenko, David Trezeguet, Thierry Henry


    He then continued, "Mark van Bommel, Robbie Savage, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara, Theodoros Zagorakis and the new Andrea Pirlo ¡ª currently, we only have six midfielders. That means even if we play a 4-3-3 or 4-4-2 system, there''s only two player available on the bench. Not to mention if there are injuries. We definitely need reinforcements in midfield."


    Richard paused, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Give me the list of players you want, and push for UEFA Champions League qualification next season. If you manage to qualify for the competition, I will grant a 55% bonus immediately."


    It was a challenge, and all the staff exchanged glances before nodding in agreement.


    "Understood."


    Richard was very satisfied with the answer before turning to Miss Heysen. "Previously, I asked for an initiative to research Premier League ticket sales. How is that progressing?" he asked.


    "It''s all done," Miss Heysen replied, handing over the reports to Richard and the rest of the people present.


    "Good. Next," Richard said, moving swiftly through the agenda.


    The next topic was the academy, currently under the stewardship of Dom¨¨nec Torrent.


    The role of coaches in player development couldn''t be overstated, especially in England. The country''s "rigid style education" system has deeply influenced football here, making it difficult to consistently produce players with truly world-class talent.


    Even those who briefly shine often fade into mediocrity once they reach the first team. Much of the challenge lies in England''s training methods and coaching philosophies. Despite the Premier League''s dominance in European football in the past, homegrown players with exceptional technical skills remain rare.


    Many promising youngsters become well-rounded athletes but lack the creativity and flair that set great players apart. Injuries further contribute to a long list of dashed hopes.


    Richard was skeptical of relying on English coaches¡ªespecially in the academy. He favored Dutch or Spanish coaches, believing their training styles were better suited to nurturing and unlocking a player''s full potential.


    Developing players takes time; coaches lay the groundwork for a team''s traditions and identity, which is far more important than simply scouting players in the transfer market.


    After all, even if Richard could acquire a football genius, if they were guided into mediocrity, it would be a great regret and disappointment. So, you can imagine how important the role of Dom¨¨nec Torrent is for the current City.


    After the meeting concluded, Richard asked Marina Granovskaia and John Robertson to stay behind.


    The agenda: as requested by Robertson ¡ª midfield reinforcements.


    After a lengthy discussion and careful deliberation, the three of them finally agreed on three names to add to the squad: Joe Cole and Frank Lampard from West Ham United, plus Steven Gerrard from Liverpool.


    All three were homegrown talents and still young, which meant their market value was relatively affordable.


    Richard smiled.


    ''A high-quality holding midfielder!''


    With Gerrard and Pirlo anchoring the midfield, City would dominate English football ¡ª no question about it.


    "You go to West Ham, and I''ll head to Liverpool," Richard said confidently, already mapping out the plan.


    He felt sure of himself ¡ª after all, City had already made contact with Gerrard last season, and Richard firmly believed the young midfielder would be tempted to join Manchester City for good.


    So, Richard decided to make the visit himself. He believed that some transfers required a personal touch from the top to truly persuade a player.


    There was an old story about how Manchester City manager Alan Ball once waited in his office for Ryan Giggs to arrive and sign a contract. But as evening turned into night, the player never showed. The next day, Ball found out that Manchester United''s Alex Ferguson had personally visited Giggs ¡ª and poached him right from under City''s nose!


    The next morning, while Marina Granovskaia headed to West Ham, Richard, dressed in a casual shirt and blazer, made his way to Liverpool¡ªfull of optimism. But that optimism quickly turned into disbelief.


    "Refused? Why?" Richard asked, stunned. "Steven, if you have any concerns, just tell me. Is it the salary? If ¡ê2,000 is too low, I can raise it to ¡ê2,500. If accommodation is the issue, the club can provide an apartment for you and your family¡ª"


    "Sir," Gerrard interrupted gently, eyes averted. "Thank you for your kindness¡­ but I don''t want to sign with any club other than Liverpool."


    Richard scratched his head, visibly confused. "Then why go through trials at other clubs? Why agree to meet me at all? You could''ve just said no over the phone."


    He had come with high hopes. After all, Gerrard had been trialing with several clubs ¡ª Manchester United, Manchester City, and Liverpool. United hadn''t made any offers. Only City and Liverpool had shown serious interest.


    There was a long pause before Gerrard finally spoke, his tone careful but honest.


    "I didn''t want to shut any doors. But truthfully, I was just hoping that if other clubs showed interest¡­ maybe Liverpool would take me seriously and offer me a proper contract."


    Only then did Richard fully understand.


    He remembered something from Gerrard''s biography ¡ª a moment just like this: ''In order to pressure Liverpool into giving him a Youth Training Scheme contract, Gerrard trialed with other clubs ¡ª including Manchester United ¡ª as a stepping stone.''


    Richard was speechless.


    ''Damn it. I''ve been played by this kid.''


    There was no doubt now ¡ª the news that City had tried to recruit Gerrard would spread quickly. Even if the press didn''t catch wind of it, Gerrard himself would probably leak it ¡ª all part of his plan to make Liverpool take notice.


    In a daze, Richard returned to Maine Road empty-handed. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Moments later, Marina Granovskaia entered his office to report the results of her negotiations with West Ham regarding Frank Lampard and Joe Cole.


    Each year, the media would hype up the next generation of footballing talent ¡ª but only a few ever made it to the big stage. Among those few, Joe Cole stood out. He was a prodigy whose skill had attracted attention from all directions since he was a child.


    At the moment, Manchester City didn''t have much leverage to offer ¡ª only money. But for many players, that alone was a strong temptation. While some people could resist the lure of money, most simply had a price.


    "Joe Cole and Frank Lampard ¡ª things are a bit tricky," Marina began. "West Ham United plans to offer them senior team contracts this summer."


    For Frank Lampard, the situation was slightly more complicated. His father, Frank Lampard Sr., held a position at West Ham, but his relationship with the club had soured. Marina offered Lampard Sr. a generous starting salary package for his son in hopes of swaying the decision.


    The result?


    Frank Lampard Sr. resigned from his position at West Ham on the spot ¡ª and decided to become his son''s agent instead.


    Richard was stunned when he heard the news. He hadn''t expected such a dramatic turn of events.


    As for Joe Cole, he was still only 15 years and 315 days old, meaning he couldn''t yet sign a professional contract. He would need to be registered under a Youth Training Scheme contract first.


    West Ham, who had initially planned to offer contracts to Lampard and Joe Cole in July, were left frustrated after discovering that their star prospects had been lured away by Manchester City¡ªthanks to high wages and well-placed connections!


    Hearing that Marina Granovskaia had successfully secured Lampard and Joe Cole for good, Richard felt a wave of disappointment wash over him ¡ª mostly directed at himself.


    He sighed deeply, thinking maybe his negotiation skills had rusted from lack of practice. ''It''s been ages since I negotiated anything,'' he muttered, ''no wonder my skills are as sharp as a butter knife.''


    Marina, noticing Richard''s long face, decided to check in.


    "What happened?" she asked, putting down the folder and sitting across from him.


    With a heavy sigh, Richard explained the whole saga between him and Steven Gerrard.


    At first, Marina listened seriously ¡ª but as soon as she heard the outcome, she burst out laughing, making Richard''s mouth twitch involuntarily.


    "I''m retiring from player negotiations for good!" Richard declared, throwing his hands up like he''d just been hit by a flying football.

 Chapter 229: Securing the Future Sensational Superstar

    One of Manchester City''s greatest assets lies in the youth and potential of their current squad.


    Most of their key players are still very young ¡ª for example, Jens Lehmann, the oldest, is just 27 years old.


    Another strength is that the squad size is quite tight, meaning the team is well-balanced without too many surplus players.


    With three major competitions on the horizon, this compact but talented squad ensures that every player will have a real opportunity to contribute and prove themselves.


    Naturally, while Manchester City focused on strengthening their squad through transfers, other clubs in the Premier League were equally active in the market.


    Like Alan Shearer''s transfer to Newcastle United broke the British record, with the club signing him from Blackburn Rovers for ¡ê15 million.


    Then Chelsea paid a club record ¡ê4.9 million for Lazio and Italy midfielder Roberto Di Matteo.


    Middlesbrough, having survived the previous Premier League season thanks to TV broadcasts and sponsorships, paid a club record ¡ê7 million for Juventus and Italy striker Fabrizio Ravanelli.


    Unexpectedly, Manchester United, the club with the most absences last season, became very active in the transfer market this season, making several important moves.


    Manchester United paid Slavia Prague ¡ê3.5 million for winger Karel Poborsky, who played a key role in helping the Czech Republic reach the final of UEFA Euro 1996.


    Jordi Cruyff, son of the legendary Johan Cruyff, signed for Manchester United from Barcelona for ¡ê1.3 million.


    Meanwhile, after eight years at the club, Lee Sharpe left Manchester United to join Leeds United.


    Not satisfied with their current squad, Manchester United''s David Gill ¡ª who had previously succeeded in signing Ole Gunnar Solskj?r ¡ª decided to pay another visit to Maine Road.


    Richard and Marina Granovskaia welcomed him naturally.


    Gill wasted no time. He pulled Richard and Marina aside and got straight to the point.


    "Larsson. Name your price. Manchester United are prepared to make a reasonable offer."


    Richard didn''t flatly refuse. "How much can Manchester United offer?" he asked casually. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    David Gill''s eyes lit up. United were planning a summer overhaul, and they had cash to spend ¡ª especially after pocketing ¡ê4.5 million from Lee Sharpe''s transfer.


    "Four million pounds," he said confidently. "That should be fair, especially since Larsson hasn''t proven himself in the Premier League yet."


    But Richard only smiled and waved his hand. "I wasn''t talking about the transfer fee. I meant the weekly wage. How much can Manchester United offer Larsson?"


    Gill paused, thought for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. "Seven thousand pounds a week."


    Richard shrugged. "Then you''ll need to convince him to take a pay cut."


    "A pay cut? How much is he earning at Manchester City?"


    "He''s one of our top earners ¡ª twelve thousand pounds per week."


    Gill''s eyes widened in disbelief. "You''re insane!"


    But it was true.


    At City, Larsson was the second-highest earner, behind only Ronaldo, who made fifteen thousand pounds per week.


    At United, the salary structure was much stricter. The highest earner was Eric Cantona, on twenty thousand pounds per week. Peter Schmeichel came next with eighteen thousand, followed by a sharp drop: younger players like Beckham, Scholes, and Giggs barely earned over four thousand, and even big-money signings like Andy Cole weren''t making more than ten thousand.


    It wasn''t that Manchester United couldn''t offer Larsson twelve thousand or even more ¡ª it was simply that salaries were tied to each player''s standing within the team. If Larsson earned more than ten thousand at United, it would undoubtedly disrupt the wage structure, prompting more than a few players to demand raises.


    Thanks to this discussion, David Gill quickly realized something: Manchester City never outright rejected Manchester United''s inquiries about their players. Even in the case of Larsson, the stumbling block wasn''t the controversy of a potential transfer between the two Manchester clubs ¡ª it was purely about wages.


    David Gill was genuinely interested not only in Larsson but in several other Manchester City players as well. However, their salaries were simply too high. After all, it would be humiliating for a prestigious club like Manchester United to ask players to take pay cuts just to join. So, reluctantly, Gill began to pull back.


    The meeting with David Gill was held behind closed doors, ensuring that no one outside the room knew it had even taken place.


    After wrapping up the episode with David Gill, Richard and Marina began reviewing Manchester City''s scouting database to search for another player¡ªspecifically a midfielder.


    Unexpectedly, rather than finding a midfielder as they had initially hoped, Richard instead discovered some amazing youth players.


    The first was 15-year-old Ashley Cole.


    The second was another 15-year-old ¡ª Samuel Eto''o!


    However, for Samuel Eto''o, the situation was urgent. His name wasn''t found in the current City database but was forwarded by Karren Brady from FC Girondins de Bordeaux, who had already established a scouting network in Africa.


    Based on what Karren told them, Eto''o was currently negotiating with Real Madrid, which quickly prompted Richard and Marina to decide to leave for Africa.


    On a hot, sunny day in B¨¦koko, Douala, Cameroon, Richard, dressed in a polo shirt and wearing black glasses, attracted attention as he followed the address written on a piece of paper.


    The architectural landscape around him began to resemble a slum; even though the residents here weren''t the poorest in society, they certainly didn''t live in wealth.


    As Richard and Marina arrived at a small bungalow, he took off his sunglasses and carefully surveyed the cramped house. He sighed softly, reflecting that many future football stars, despite their vast earnings later, had struggled in their family lives before achieving fame.


    It was precisely this kind of opportunity that Richard capitalized on. Sometimes he questioned whether his actions were unscrupulous, yet he could never persuade himself to walk away.


    When there was a chance to seize a golden opportunity, who cared about others'' opinions? Besides, he wasn''t a ruthless businessman; he could justify this to himself.


    After adjusting his outfit, he knocked on the door.


    "Who is it?"


    The door opened to reveal a middle-aged man, unkempt yet not scruffy, with a visible air of despondency.


    Richard handed over his business card with a smile as he glanced at his translator, who then translated Richard''s introduction. "Hello, sir, I''m Richard Maddox from England..."


    After the introduction and thanks to the local translator, Richard and Marina soon found themselves sitting inside.


    "You take it from here," Richard whispered, to which Marina nodded.


    After stating their purpose, the middle-aged man was taken aback, his hand trembling slightly as he held the card.


    "Samuel? But he is only 15. How much will you offer him in a contract?"


    In many parts of the world¡ªAfrica, South America, even Europe¡ªplaying football was a way for families in the lower strata of society to change their destinies. Becoming a professional player could lift an entire family from poverty. For talented youngsters with no financial means, there was no room for negotiation before the spotlight shone on them; they went where the money was.


    Soon, at that moment, a mother and son appeared in the living room.


    Richard''s eyes lit up.


    Samuel Eto''o!


    The fifteen-year-old boy stood in front of his mother, who wrapped her arms around his neck as if fearing someone might take him away.


    Richard smiled as he sized up the boy, assured he had the right person. He turned to the middle-aged man and said, "His name is Samuel Eto''o, right?"


    The man nodded and beckoned his son over to greet Richard, visibly nervous since it was his first time seeing a foreigner here.


    Eto''o opened his mouth, seemingly unsure of how to address Richard, ultimately managing only a soft hello.


    After that, it was Marina''s turn to negotiate.


    She pulled a stack of documents from her briefcase and handed them to the Eto''o family.


    "My club is called Manchester City. You might not have heard of it before. This is a brief introduction to the team. Just so you know, next season, my team will be competing in the top tier of English football."


    "Sir and miss, even if what you say is true, we can''t just hand over our child to you to take him to unfamiliar England."


    This was basically the same situation as with Real Madrid, as the family was reluctant to be separated from Eto''o just yet.


    Eto''o read the documents with great interest, his eyes filled with longing, while his father appeared somewhat uninterested. He said sternly, "I also don''t believe Samuel should be separated from his family at this age."


    Marina nodded, responding candidly, "What we want is Samuel''s talent, naturally. I understand your family has some difficulties, which is fine. If Samuel agrees to come to Manchester City, I can offer him an apprentice contract of ¡ê1,000 a week, and once he joins the senior team, I believe his salary will increase significantly."


    "An apprentice?"


    "¡ê1,000?!"


    Eto''o''s parents'' eyes widened in disbelief. This was different from what the previous club had offered them!


    After Marina explained, they understood it meant they would clear over ¡ê4,000 a month, while the standard welfare benefits in the UK at that time were less than ¡ê500 a month. This money could enable them to live better in London, especially with free accommodation included.


    Currently, Eto''o was still stuck at Kadji Sports Academy, commonly known as KSA, a sports academy and football team based in B¨¦koko, Douala, Cameroon. It was founded by businessman Gilbert Kadji. Not only did he not have a salary, but he even had to rent boots to play and train there!


    "Not only that, the club can provide your family with free accommodation. Additionally, if you don''t mind, this gentleman here can offer job positions for you, sir."


    Richard smiled at this as he looked toward the Eto''o family.


    As for the family, they were shaken to their core.


    This sudden windfall was overwhelming.


    Still, Eto''o''s father didn''t agree immediately; instead, he said, "Let us think it over."


    Both Richard and Marina weren''t in a hurry.


    "If you decide, feel free to call me, or you can come to Manchester for a visit first," she said before placing an envelope on the table.


    After they left, the Eto''o family opened the envelope on the table to find ¡ê1,000 and three round-trip tickets from Cameroon to Manchester.


    After finishing with Eto''o, Richard immediately planned to return to Manchester, but he had a mission for Marina Granovskaia.


    "You''re going to Bordeaux to meet with Karren. Use the funds from Roberto and Cafu''s transfers to buy three players: Zinedine Zidane, Patrick Vieira, and Claude Mak¨¦l¨¦l¨¦."


    The French heavyweights!


    Originally, after a series of standout performances for both Bordeaux and France, Zidane had received offers from Europe''s top clubs during this transfer window. However, Karren, the new CEO who had been briefed by Richard¡ªwho had already set his sights on these three midfielders¡ªblocked any transfer attempts involving them.


    "I already know Zidane and Vieira from before they turned professional. Both are far more likely to join if you mention my name," Richard said, carefully outlining the strategy to Marina as he prepared to persuade them to join Manchester City.


    He didn''t have a choice!


    To compete in the Premier League, FA Cup, and League Cup ¡ª plus ensure that City qualified for next season''s UEFA Champions League ¡ª he had to secure this trump card as early as possible.


    Losing Roberto Carlos and Cafu? It didn''t matter anymore!

 Chapter 230: News from France (Bad and Good)

    After securing Joe Cole and Ashley Cole, who will first join Manchester City''s U-17 team, the club soon announced the arrival of Frank Lampard.


    With this, City managed to land Frank Lampard, Andrea Pirlo, and Gianluigi Buffon.


    Now, the only one left to wait for is Samuel Eto''o, followed by the French powerhouse trio, who are currently being negotiated by Marina Granovskaia.


    As time passed, the English Premier League was buzzing with action¡ªnew headlines filled the newspapers daily, and transfer news dominated every conversation. But by the time July rolled around, frustration began to set in among Manchester City fans.


    While rival clubs unveiled star signings one after another, City seemed to be falling behind, having only brought in a handful of rookies.


    However, the fans¡ªlong accustomed to the club''s lack of big-name signings since Richard''s takeover¡ªsoon calmed down. As long as the club didn''t get relegated again like last time, most supporters were happy enough with that.


    In a random survey conducted by the Manchester Evening News, over 85% of City fans said they would be satisfied as long as the club managed to stay in the Premier League next season.


    As the preseason days drew closer, Richard moved into a new neighborhood just a kilometer from Maine Road.


    Due to a recent IRA bombing incident, property prices in Manchester had taken a sudden hit, leading to a temporary freeze in the housing market and forcing some owners into panic selling.


    Maddox Construction and Property Management managed to secure two buildings¡ªone located at the center of the bombing area, and the other intended for Richard''s private use near Maine Road.


    The building located in the bombing area was a famous historical structure, originally used as a corn exchange. It was previously known as the Corn & Produce Exchange and later renamed The Triangle. Plans were soon made by Richard and Stuart Olm to redevelop the site into a modern shopping center and food court.


    As for the other building that was recently acquired, the asset will be used for Richard''s personal purposes, as well as for Manchester City''s current first team and youth squad. Given that it is a mixed-use apartment complex¡ªespecially with the open field situated in the center¡ªit''s the perfect location to serve as the new City dormitory.


    Richard has already spoken with Stuart Olm regarding the renovations.


    "Since we have ninety rooms and five buildings, I think that''s more than enough. Please renovate the buildings to be fully enclosed, and make sure they''re equipped with all necessary facilities."


    Even though all the equipment at Maine Road has been upgraded, for Richard, it still falls short.


    The club''s surroundings remain outdated, with facilities lacking modernity¡ªreminiscent of football clubs from decades ago. The training grounds are rudimentary, seemingly overlooking the players'' needs once training ends. This kind of neglect mirrors the broader condition of English football today, where even national team players often indulge excessively in drinking, neglecting their long-term physical condition.


    Maine Road can still be used, but only for match day preparations. For daily training sessions, the new building is better suited. While smaller in scale, it is far more ideal in Richard''s view.


    Stuart nodded. "What kind of facilities are we talking about?"


    "They should include gyms, meeting rooms, swimming pools, saunas, massage areas, a large dining hall, and don''t forget to create space for bus parking. Starting this season, the first team will train regularly¡ªnot just at the training grounds, but also within the new dormitory complex."


    "And the expenses...?"


    "They''ll be covered by the club''s account."


    With that confirmed, Stuart just needed to begin the work immediately.


    Richard is personally overseeing every detail. Maine Road, in his view, has long been neglected. Yes, they''ve recently upgraded the gym and the other equipment, but what about a proper swimming pool, a sauna, or even a dining room big enough for all players and staff to eat together?


    Such things don''t exist at Maine Road. That''s why Richard is determined to build a solid foundation for the club¡ªfrom top to bottom. Once everything is properly in place, he''ll finally be able to breathe a little easier.


    Once the dormitory project discussion is completed, Manchester City is set to enter a new, busier phase.


    The Manchester City High Performance Team is expanding. This year, the club has sponsored a group of young talents to study in the United States, where they will learn more about medical & injury support and nutrition.


    Naturally, the club can''t rely solely on Dr. Andreas Schlumberger and Dr. Dave Fevre. Richard has decided to invest heavily in this area, ensuring regeneration and sustainability in the medical and performance departments.


    By mid to late July, the players began returning to camp one by one.


    On the day when everyone was finally present, Richard spotted Robertson, dressed in the club''s new training kit, walking alongside the coaching staff toward the training pitch, where players were already gathering and exchanging stories from their summer breaks.


    Richard''s lips twitched when he noticed a young man he only half-recognized.


    "Hey? Who are you? Aren''t you in the wrong place?"


    He walked into the group, clearly amused, and placed a hand on the shoulder of a slightly chubby young man.


    "Bwahahaha! That''s Ronaldo!"


    "Ronaldo? That''s really you? Come on, where is he really? Don''t mess with me. You? Ronaldo? That belly could bounce a coin. What happened¡ªusing it as a trampoline now?"


    Richard gave the young man''s belly a playful pat¡ªit was, indeed, quite soft.


    The others burst out laughing.


    "Yeah! Told you he was an imposter!"


    Larsson joined in, fanning the flames.


    Only a few players had noticeably gained weight during the break. Most of the senior players¡ªlike Lehmann, Larsson, Thuram, and Gallas¡ªhad clearly stayed fit and disciplined.


    Everyone laughed, including the coaches, while the culprit¡ªRonaldo¡ªjust scratched the back of his head, sheepishly. The truth was, after his injury, he had fallen into stress, unable to play, and so he turned to food and clubbing for comfort. That explained his current appearance.


    Since today was the first day of training for the new season, Richard was only teasing. He wasn''t going to pry into how the players spent their summer. As far as he was concerned, as long as they returned to the club without breaking any laws, that was good enough.


    The first order of business was the introduction of the new players. After that, Richard clapped his hands to gather everyone''s attention.


    "I''ll keep this short," Richard began.


    He had arrived early at the training ground with a specific purpose.


    Last season, foreign players like Ronaldo, Lehmann, Larsson and the others were housed in dormitories rented by the club. This season, that arrangement would change¡ªbecause Richard had already prepared something better.


    "By early August, the renovations will be complete. We just need to finish the pool, clean all the rooms, and set up the new gym. After that, each of you will receive your own key. Don''t worry, I''ll be fair¡ªif you already have a house and still want to stay at the Maine Road Training Camp, I''ll let you." S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Richard had decided to call the new facility the Maine Road Training Camp, since it was located close to the original Maine Road and easy to remember.


    All the players, especially the new and foreign ones, were excited. Naturally, it was better than the current setup where multiple players shared a single room. Having private rooms meant more privacy and better rest¡ªsomething crucial for recovery and focus.


    "That''s it. Thank you for your time¡ªand good luck with preseason."


    With that, Richard concluded his speech and left the training ground, satisfied that the club was heading in the right direction.


    For the next pre-season matches, the first three will be against Everton, Nottingham Forest, and West Ham United.


    Richard decided not to attend the first match, choosing instead to visit Wythenshawe Hospital the very next day to check on O''Neill''s condition first. He found him sitting upright in bed, legs propped up on a cushion, flipping through a newspaper with all the energy of a man who had read it three times already.


    "I''m fine," O''Neill said before Richard could ask. He let out a long sigh. "It''s just very boring here."


    "Well, boredom''s better than the alternative. You''re in the mid recovery phase now, right?"


    O''Neill nodded. "Yeah. Two weeks post-op. I''ve ditched the walker, moved on to a cane. They''re letting me walk around a bit more now."


    Richard glanced at the medical chart by the bedside. The doctors had written optimistic notes, but the next sentence caught his eye: ''Patient is advised not to return to any active coaching responsibilities for at least the next two months to allow full musculoskeletal recovery.''


    "They''re still saying no coaching?"


    "Not for a while. It''s annoying, but I get it." O''Neill paused. "I need to heal right."


    While O''Neill has voiced his frustrations about the situation, naturally, Richard also had his own complaints ¡ª especially about John Robertson, who last season nearly gave Richard a heart attack after pulling a last-minute experiment in several crucial matches, almost causing City to miss out on promotion.


    As someone who knows Robertson better than anyone, Richard couldn''t help but ask O''Neill for some reassurance about him.


    "You know... last season, Robertson nearly killed me."


    O''Neill raised an eyebrow.


    "I mean it. That man''s a walking heart attack. The late tactical changes, experimenting with formations during must-win games ¡ª we nearly missed promotion because he got creative at the worst times."


    "That sounds like him," O''Neill chuckled, before falling silent for a while. Then he gave Richard his thoughts. "But that creative side is part of who Robertson is. Sometimes he even gives me ideas or tactical tweaks I hadn''t considered. Let''s just say¡ªhe''s more flexible than I am. You remember that 3-4-3 we used a couple of seasons back?"


    Richard nodded.


    "That was all Robertson''s idea. I just signed off on it."


    Richard exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Martin, can I trust him not to lose the plot?"


    The issue is that O''Neill won''t be able to return to full activity for another two months, which means Robertson will be in charge of City for the opening stretch of the Premier League season.


    O''Neill didn''t answer right away. His expression turned thoughtful, the lines on his face deepening as he searched for the right words.


    "I can''t give you a promise," he finally said, measured and honest. "But I think as long as you give him the right players, he''ll be fine. He''s not reckless¡ªhe just needs the right tools. Trust him, but manage him."


    Talking about the right players seemed to trigger another wave of frustration in O''Neill. He rubbed his temples and sighed.


    "I never expected Roberto and Cafu to suddenly move to Inter and Roma. That hit hard."


    With those two on the flanks, the whole system worked. He never had to tell them anything ¡ª they just understood. They made everything flow. Like clockwork.


    Richard gave a small shrug, as if to say, ''What did we expect?''


    "You know we could never hold on to them," he said. "The moment a Serie A team came knocking, our chances were done. It was just a matter of time. And now they believe in something bigger ¡ª the big stage in Milan and Rome," Richard added dryly. "Can''t blame them."


    RING~


    The sudden ring of Richard''s phone cut through the room, interrupting the quiet hum of their conversation.


    Richard glanced at the screen.


    Marina Granovskaia.


    His eyes lit up ¡ª a flicker of excitement, tempered by something sharper. Urgency. He stood from the chair, pacing slightly as he answered the call, voice steady.


    "I have bad news and good news. Which one do you want to hear first?" came Marina''s crisp voice from the other end, laced with her usual no-nonsense tone.


    Richard''s fingers tightened around the phone as he stopped pacing. "What?"

 Chapter 231: No France? That’s Okay — We Still Have Africa and Asia!

    UEFA Champions League.


    The only hurdle that stopped Zinedine Zidane from joining Manchester City was the club''s absence from Europe''s highest stage.


    Thanks to that, Zidane chose to remain with FC Girondins de Bordeaux ¡ª and with him, Patrick Vieira and Claude Mak¨¦l¨¦l¨¦ also decided to stay.


    No wonder Marina had called it bad news.


    "Can you guarantee it?"


    "What if a team from Serie A or La Liga suddenly extends their hand and they decide to join them instead?"


    Premier League was a much bigger stage than the First Division, drawing the eyes of Europe. But above even the Premier League stood France, Spain, and Italy ¡ª where the lights were brighter, and where even the smallest achievement could result in a flurry of transfer interest and a significant wage increase.


    The world of football is inherently cruel; the best resources are always drawn to the giants of the game. A perfect example of this is Ajax who were already being drained of their talent following the implementation of the Bosman ruling currently.


    Richard understood the harsh reality that City had to face this season. They were, in essence, a small temple. To keep the gods, one must offer gold. Only with shining glory can admiration ¡ª and loyalty ¡ª be earned.


    That''s why next season, qualifying for international competition wasn''t just a goal. It was a necessity. Zidane, Mak¨¦l¨¦l¨¦, and Vieira had already made it clear.


    City had to rise ¡ª or be left behind.


    Though disappointed, Richard also sighed in relief. At least the door wasn''t completely closed.


    Lying in bed, O''Neill was already watching him carefully. Richard didn''t bother to hide any of it ¡ª no secrets this time. He sat down again and asked O''Neill for his opinion.


    "To be honest," O''Neill said, "if I were in their shoes, I''d make the same choice. The Champions League is a bigger stage ¡ª who wouldn''t choose that?"


    The career of a professional footballer is short. From maturity to peak performance, the window can be less than ten years. Within that limited time, to build a lasting legacy, a player must compete with and against the very best ¡ª and that means joining a powerful team.


    If Manchester City couldn''t provide that environment, Richard couldn''t blame any player for walking away ¡ª or for choosing not to join at all.


    Then O''Neill narrowed his eyes slightly, curious. "But why are you so obsessed with them? Are they really that good?"


    "¡­"


    Richard could only stare at O''Neill, speechless ¡ª as if he had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world.


    "Tell Karren to reject any transfer offers involving those three. Next season, when City qualify for the Champions League, I''ll personally remind them of their promise."


    "Understood."


    Just as Richard ended the call ¡ª RING~ ¡ª his phone rang again.


    This time, it was Miss Heysen.


    "You asked me to follow the result of the Everton friendly match," she began briskly. "It ended in a 2¨C2 draw. Our goals were scored by Henrik Larsson and David Trezeguet. Do you want me to fax you the full match report? If yes, I''ll ask Ramm to forward the ProZone analysis to your email."


    "No need," Richard said, shaking his head. "I''m at the hospital, visiting Martin. But help me with something else instead."


    The current Manchester City in-house scouting database focused primarily on Europe, with particular attention to England and Ireland. That was no longer enough.


    "I need you to contact external scouting firms," Richard continued. "Find one willing to sell access to their player databases ¡ª especially in regions we don''t cover. Asia. Africa. South America, and others too. We''ll pay for full access."


    With the loss of Roberto Carlos and Cafu, that leaves City with only Ronaldo and Javier Zanetti occupying the foreign player quota. Now, with Zidane, Mak¨¦l¨¦l¨¦, and Vieira turning down the move, perhaps that quota can finally be put to good use.


    Over the next three days, Manchester City would face heavyweight opponents, including Nottingham Forest.


    Once again, Richard didn''t bother to attend the match, as he immediately held an urgent meeting regarding the sudden burst of transfer activity to strengthen Manchester City''s midfield.


    Marina Granovskaia had already returned to Maine Road.


    The moment Richard saw her, curiosity got the better of him. "How did you manage to convince Zidane, Mak¨¦l¨¦l¨¦, and Vieira to give a gentleman''s agreement to choose City over the other clubs?"


    "It wasn''t me," she said, shaking her head. "It was Karren. She reminded them that she had the ability and influence to freeze them out of any competition next season."


    Richard stared at her, dumbfounded. "What kind of nonsense is that? That can''t possibly still work in this era. Not with the Bosman ruling in effect. Players have rights. They could sue her!"


    "I reminded her of that too," Marina sighed. "But she said she wasn''t threatening their careers ¡ª just... reminding them that reputation matters."


    "She really said that?"


    "She really did," Marina replied dryly. "And the crazy part? It worked. All three agreed to wait until next season."


    Marina paused for a moment before hesitantly asking, "Richard, are you sure you want to work with a woman like her? She''s¡­ crazy, you know."


    Yeah, just from hearing all that, Richard already knew. But for now, at least, her strategy was effective.


    ''And in football, that''s what matters,'' Richard thought to himself.


    Thankfully, before he could answer, the moment was broken by the arrival of Miss Heysen, who entered the room accompanied by Robertson.


    CLAP.


    Richard immediately clapped his hands together, loud enough to grab everyone''s attention ¡ª a deliberate move to steer the conversation away from Karren.


    "Perfect timing," he said, flashing a tight smile. "Let''s switch gears, shall we?" S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Miss Heysen, ever the professional, handed Richard a folder.


    "These are the updated reports on the scouting inquiries you asked for," she said briskly. "I''ve also contacted two external firms ¡ª both are willing to sell partial access to their databases, particularly in Africa and Southeast Asia."


    "Good," Richard nodded, flipping open the folder.


    The meeting, naturally, wouldn''t happen just once or twice ¡ª especially since Richard had also involved John Robertson in the search for players who fit his profile. Together, they combed through countless scouting reports, expanding their focus ¡ª specifically to South America, Africa and Asia, where the talent was raw, hungry, and still relatively untouched by the spotlight.


    Soon, two names began to rise above the noise. Strangely, they were unfamiliar to most in the room ¡ª but not to Richard.


    The first was Augustine Azuka Okocha, a 22-year-old Nigerian midfielder playing for Eintracht Frankfurt in Germany.


    The second was even more obscure ¡ª Hidetoshi Nakata, a young Japanese midfielder from Bellmare Hiratsuka in the J-League.


    Was it really just a coincidence?


    Richard was taken aback as he saw both names circled in bold black ink.


    "Interesting," he murmured, tapping a finger on Okocha''s file.


    Okocha, along with teammates Tony Yeboah and Maurizio Gaudino, was currently involved in a well-publicized feud with manager Jupp Heynckes ¡ª and all three were reportedly intent on leaving the club at any cost this season. As for Nakata, there wasn''t any controversy surrounding him. But he was undoubtedly shining in the J-League.


    At the end of the day, after discussing more and more, the meeting finally concluded with three names ¡ª players City needed the most to patch up their weaknesses.


    The first was Augustine Azuka Okocha, the second was Hidetoshi Nakata, and the third was a left-back option ¡ª a backup to fill the void left by Roberto Carlos departures. The name that emerged was Joan Capdevila, who was currently playing for the Spanish team T¨¤rrega.


    After the match against Nottingham Forest ¡ª which Manchester City edged out with a narrow 1¨C0 victory ¡ª the mood at the club was cautiously optimistic. The performance wasn''t flawless, but it was enough to get the job done.


    The final whistle had barely finished echoing through the stadium before Marina Granovskaia was in the back seat of a waiting car, headed straight for the airport.


    Her destination: Germany.


    Her mission was clear ¡ª to secure Augustine Azuka Okocha, who would become the first African player ever to play for Manchester City, and only the second in Premier League history after Peter Ndlovu, who joined Coventry City in 1992.


    After securing Okocha, their next target was Joan Capdevila.


    At just 17 years old, Capdevila had yet to sign a formal contract with T¨¤rrega, which allowed City to acquire both players without spending a penny on transfer fees.


    Richard was satisfied with the names on the list. Joan Capdevila, in particular, showed immense promise. Though still young, he would later rise to prominence as a vital figure for the famed Gal¨¢cticos, celebrated for his versatility¡ªcapable of playing both as a center-back and a left-back. Most remarkably, he would go on to become the only player not affiliated with Barcelona or Real Madrid to win the World Cup with Spain later, cementing his legacy on football''s grandest stage.


    And finally, the third target: Bellmare Hiratsuka ¡ª which proved to be an easier piece for Marina Granovskaia to secure. The deal with Nakata''s camp went smoothly, as the name and prestige of European football were far more tempting than anything Asia could offer.


    After securing the three names, it didn''t take long for Manchester City to officially announce another trio of signings.


    At first, fans were thrilled ¡ª excited whispers spread across City as supporters awaited the names of the new arrivals. But when the club revealed the signings, the reaction was... stunned silence.


    What kind of transfers were these?


    An African player? Well, at least Augustine Okocha had been playing in Europe for Eintracht Frankfurt ¡ª that helped ease the shock a bit. Joan Capdevila? The young Spaniard, and a defender at that ¡ª also understandable.


    But Hidetoshi Nakata? Who? A player from Japan?


    No one had expected that.


    Nakata, who would become the first-ever Asian footballer to wear a Manchester City shirt, caught everyone completely off guard. While confusion rippled through the fanbase, one thing was clear ¡ª Manchester City had gone bold, maybe even crazy, this time.


    On fan forums, pubs, and radio talk shows across Manchester, the news was the main topic of conversation.


    "Okocha? He''s got flair, no doubt ¡ª but will he survive English football?"


    "Capdevila? Who even is that? A teenager from a town most of us can''t pronounce?"


    "A Japanese midfielder? Seriously?"


    Meanwhile, the media was divided. Tabloids ran dramatic headlines:


    "City Roll the Dice with Foreign Names"


    "From Tokyo to Manchester: Who is Nakata?"


    "Capdevila, Child of Spain, Joins English Grit"


    Some pundits didn''t hold back in their criticism, calling the signings "reckless gambles" by a club "desperate to punch above its weight."


    They questioned whether Manchester City had prioritized exposure over logic, suggesting the club was more focused on making headlines than on building a cohesive team.


    When the midweek match of the third pre-season against West Ham United began, Manchester City finally released their final squad for the season ¡ª all under the watchful eyes of the public.


    Goalkeepers (GK): Jens Lehmann, Gianluigi Buffon


    Defenders (DF): Javier Zanetti, Joan Capdevilla, Lilian Thuram, Rio Ferdinand, William Gallas, Marco Materazzi, Gianluca Zambrotta, Steve Finnan


    Midfielders (MF): Mark van Bommel, Robbie Savage, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara, Theodoros Zagorakis, Augustine Okocha, Hidetoshi Nakata


    Forwards (FW): Ronaldo, Henrik Larsson, Andriy Shevchenko, David Trezeguet, Thierry Henry


    Manchester City are set to begin the new season with two historic firsts: their first-ever African player and their first-ever Asian signing.


    Will they succeed?


    Only time will tell whether these bold moves will prove to be inspired masterstrokes ¡ª or simply desperate gambles driven by hope and ambition.

 Chapter 232: Visit Highbury Stadium

    Richard rarely read the newspapers¡ªnot for lack of content, but because there was simply too much of it.


    In the UK, where no dedicated football publications existed, the sheer volume of football-related news spread across both major and minor newspapers felt overwhelming. From match reports and off-field gossip to sensationalized locker room drama and baseless transfer rumors, the noise made it nearly impossible to separate fact from fiction.


    His disinterest was only deepened by the notoriously low journalistic standards of the British media. Most of the time, he merely skimmed the headlines, choosing instead to rely on a trusted source to gather and verify any football intelligence genuinely worth his attention.


    For example, take the media coverage ahead of the match.


    Just a day before Arsenal''s friendly against Manchester City, The Times, The Sun, and The Daily Mail all splashed bold headlines across their back pages.


    "Arsenal Out for Revenge After League Cup Exit" referring to last season''s bitter defeat when City knocked them out of the competition in the quarter-finals.


    Another, more dramatic headline from The Sun, quoted former manager Bruce Rioch:"Arsenal Will Teach Manchester City About Premier League Football."


    Initially, teams like Arsenal¡ªas an established Premier League side¡ªhardly saw newly promoted City as a real threat. For Arsenal, the tension wasn''t about fear, but pride. They still harbored resentment over the embarrassing defeat City handed them in the League Cup.


    Talking about Arsenal, their situation could actually be seen as quite similar to that of Manchester City.


    In the Greater London area, there have always been natural derby dynamics among clubs. And for teams without deeply rooted rivalries, the competition often came down to a simple question: who truly ruled the city?


    When Arsenal moved north to claim territory in North London, they encroached on Spurs'' doorstep¡ªa move that didn''t sit well with Tottenham or their fans. Competing for territory like that has always stirred resentment, much like how Manchester United, despite their success, never earned full support from many local fans within Manchester.


    It''s basically the same situation in Manchester.


    In parts of the city proper¡ªespecially in working-class areas¡ªManchester City maintained strong local loyalty.


    The popular notion that "City is local, United is global" carries a degree of truth.


    City''s fanbase was primarily rooted in the heart of Manchester, while Manchester United, having become a dominant club, saw its fanbase explode globally¡ªattracting millions of supporters around the world, including many in the UK who had no direct connection to the city itself.


    Only later, little by little, United quietly rebuilt¡ªslowly turning Manchester red before going on to dominate both domestically and on the international stage.


    This was also one of the key reasons Richard chose Eastland as the site for the new stadium. The area was still largely undeveloped¡ªraw and full of potential. It could be shaped and molded to reflect the identity he envisioned: to ensure the East Side of Manchester stayed blue, not red.


    For him, it was about preserving authenticity¡ªa sense of originality that rooted the club in its true local heritage.


    "See? Rather than focus on football, they''d rather sensationalize things like this," Richard said with a sigh, tossing the newspaper aside without bothering to read further.


    Bruce Rioch''s position at Arsenal was hanging by a thread. After a string of underwhelming performances the previous season, his future at the club looked anything but secure.


    The signs were all too familiar¡ªtalking big to the media was probably a classic move when a manager was running out of options.


    It was a gamble. If Arsenal impressed, the comment might be remembered as a bold show of confidence. But if they crumbled, it would only add fuel to the fire already waiting to consume him.


    After tossing aside the newspaper, Richard turned his attention inward just as John Roberson and his staff, including Dom¨¨nec Torrent, arrived at his office.


    The agenda for today''s meeting: preparations for the upcoming Premier League kick-off.


    The first item on the agenda was a review of U-17 players who are ready for promotion to the senior squad.


    The current manager, Dom¨¨nec Torrent, brought up the personal details of Kieron Dyer, who is about to turn 17, as well as Paul Robinson, Wes Brown, and Craig Bellamy, who will each be turning 16.


    The recent signings of Augustine Azuka Okocha and Hidetoshi Nakata have brought the current squad to a total of 24 players. Now, with the addition of Kieron Dyer, Paul Robinson, Wes Brown, and Craig Bellamy, City''s squad is essentially well-equipped to face the upcoming season.


    Richard aimed to accelerate the development of City''s academy players by giving them more game time¡ªeven in high-stakes matches¡ªto help them gain valuable experience.


    It was, essentially, a win-win solution.


    The goal was to ease the burden on the first team while offering the new signings and promoted youth players crucial opportunities to adapt to the Premier League''s style of play and gain meaningful match experience.


    Many young players would likely struggle to keep up with the intensity of the Premier League¡ªand even regular starters could find it difficult at times. The gap between the Premier League and the First Division was enormous, with a staggering difference in both match intensity and overall quality.


    "In that case," Dom¨¨nec Torrent proposed with a thoughtful tone, "this may sound a bit unconventional, but I believe we can use the league matches to gradually give younger and fringe players more experience. This would help narrow the gap between our starting eleven and the substitutes. That way, next season, we can aim for a truly deep and balanced squad, instead of facing the usual problem of bench players struggling to step up when needed."


    "Meanwhile," he continued, "we can go all in on the League Cup and FA Cup. Both competitions only require seven matches to reach the final from the point Premier League clubs enter¡ªassuming no replays. The League Cup final takes place between late February and early March, with the first six matches spread between late August and the end of January. The FA Cup begins in early January and runs through to May. This scheduling gives us significant flexibility, as the two cups rarely overlap. We can plan and rotate the squad accordingly." S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Torrent''s proposal was met with unanimous agreement from the coaching staff and Richard.


    Manchester City needed a trophy¡ªa symbol of progress and ambition. But winning the league was undoubtedly the most difficult challenge, demanding consistency over a long season. In contrast, the cup competitions offered a more realistic opportunity, especially since even strong opponents often fielded weakened lineups due to their league commitments.


    Richard nodded. "Okay, so your plan for this season is to focus the main lineup on the cup competitions. In the league, let''s begin rotating based on the fixture list¡ªmaking sure the most important matches are handled by our primary lineup, especially those against stronger teams. We can rely on the substitutes to handle slightly weaker opponents. As long as the reserves hold their ground, our first team will emerge stronger next season after enduring the grind of Premier League."


    The coaching staff then turned their attention to the schedule.


    Every Premier League team faces a challenging fixture list at some point, and for weaker sides, there''s always a stretch of consecutive tough matches. Manchester City was a bit unlucky.


    First Fixture: Away vs. Newcastle United


    Second Fixture: Home vs. Leeds United


    Third Fixture: Away at Anfield (Liverpool)


    Fourth Fixture: Away vs. defending champions Manchester United


    Fifth Fixture: Home vs. Nottingham Forest


    After wrapping up the discussions, they shifted their focus to the results of the current pre-season matches.


    One win and two draws.


    That was City''s pre-season record so far¡ªagainst Everton, Nottingham Forest, and West Ham United. Now, they were preparing for their final challenge: Arsenal.


    "So, it''s basically the media stirring things up¡ªArsenal still bitter about their League Cup exit, and Bruce Rioch running his mouth again?" Richard remarked casually, though his gaze remained fixed on Robertson, the current caretaker manager.


    He didn''t need to say anything more.


    The rest of the staff were already looking in the same direction, silent but clearly expectant.


    Sensing the weight of the moment, Robertson drew a slow, steady breath, fully aware that his next assignment had just been set¡ªwhether it was spoken aloud or not.


    The morning sun shone brightly¡ªa rare gift for an autumn day in London. Richard stood outside Highbury Stadium, dressed in a sharp overcoat and a pair of warm gloves, casually chatting with Arsenal Vice Chairman, David Dein.


    Years ago, David had been the one to negotiate Ian Wright''s transfer¡ªback when Richard was still working as a football agent. Thanks to that shared history, the two were now well-acquainted.


    Now, with Arsenal hosting Manchester City for a friendly match, it was only natural that David Dein extended a personal invitation to Richard to watch the game by his side.


    "I heard Arsenal''s planning to move stadiums?" Richard asked, glancing sideways at David with curiosity.


    There had been persistent rumors circulating in top football circles: Highbury''s pitch had been deemed too small for international standards, making the stadium technically ineligible for major competitions.


    Dein offered a measured smile toward Richard, his eyes drifting thoughtfully over the pitch below.


    "What I can say," he began diplomatically, "is that the club is always looking for ways to grow. These matter just as much as results on the pitch. But as always, rumors tend to sprint faster than the players every year."


    It wasn''t a confirmation¡ªbut it wasn''t a denial either. Richard simply nodded, taking the hint. David Dein had sidestepped the question with the smoothness of a seasoned executive.


    Then, with a subtle shift of tone, Dein fired back.


    "What about Maine Road? I heard City''s planning to leave it entirely. How much did the new stadium cost? A billion? Is that rumor true?"


    Richard didn''t say a word. He just nodded casually, as if they were talking about the weather.


    Dein blinked. For a moment, he was speechless. ''This guy''s insane.'' he thought, half in awe, half in disbelief.


    "Our initial proposal to rebuild Maine Road was met with disapproval from local residents, as it required the demolition of 105 neighboring houses. It became increasingly problematic when I considered pushing forward with the plan. After much consultation, I decided to abandon the idea altogether, especially since a capacity of 35,000 wouldn''t be sufficient for our long-term goals. So, this year, City made an official bid to purchase the Eastlands site." Richard explained.


    "But a billion? That''s a massive space. What do you plan to do with all that land?"


    ''Everything. A proper sports complex. Facilities for youth development, training centers, commercial spaces¡ªeverything,'' Richard thought to himself but didn''t utter a single word. Instead, he simply smiled at David Dein.

 Chapter 233: Put Arsenal in Complete Despair

    In eight years under George Graham, Arsenal¡ªonce a club brimming with potential for even greater glory¡ªhad managed two league titles, a League Cup, an FA Cup, and last season''s European Cup Winners'' Cup. Yet despite those achievements, the success had begun to fade, and the fall from grace was swift.


    This season in the Premier League, things had taken a darker turn. Following George Graham''s dismissal due to a bribery scandal, Arsenal were no longer just failing to contend for the title¡ªthey had lost their identity under Bruce Rioch. They now struggled even to hold their heads high in their own city. In London derbies, they looked fragile.


    Richard shook his head. The ups and downs of this team were a classic case of coaching responsibility. But he was curious¡ªwhere was Ars¨¨ne Wenger? Wasn''t he supposed to take charge of Arsenal in the 1996 season? Why was Bruce Rioch still managing the team?


    He then cast a wistful glance at Arsenal''s lineup. Rioch had nearly fielded his entire first-choice squad.


    Defenders: Lee Dixon, Tony Adams, Martin Keown, Steve Bould, Nigel Winterburn.


    Midfielders: Ray Parlour, David Platt, John Jensen.


    Forwards: Ian Wright, Paul Merson.


    Still no Dennis Bergkamp.


    Richard was visibly disappointed to see the Dutchman absent from the lineup. He would''ve been a perfect test for City''s defense¡ªtechnically gifted, intelligent, and dangerous in tight spaces. A real challenge. But perhaps it was just as well. With Arsenal fielding five defenders, it would be City''s forwards who now faced the real test instead.


    Defenders: Javier Zanetti, Marco Materazzi, William Gallas, Gianluca Zambrotta


    Midfielders: Mark van Bommel, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara


    Forwards: Andriy Shevchenko, Thierry Henry, Ronaldo


    Today marked the first match where City would play without Roberto Carlos and Cafu, shifting to a 4-3-3 formation.


    In the previous two matches, they had used a 4-4-2. The reason for the change was unexpected¡ªHenry had been on fire, prompting Robertson to start him from the beginning as striker with Ronaldo on the left. Robertson was determined to use this game to help the team adapt and become more comfortable with the new setup.


    "I hear City signed an African and an Asian player this transfer window?"


    Richard heard David Dein ask, his eyes still scanning the pitch as the players began lining up.


    "Yes," Richard replied with a faint smile.


    David raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. I remember you previously brought in a few players from South America. But Africa and Asia now¡ªany particular reason?"


    Richard simply smiled, offering no further explanation.


    He wasn''t about to share his secret sauce. In time, they would all come to understand the importance of City''s efforts to expand their global appeal¡ªto be seen as a progressive, globally-minded club ahead of its time.


    PHWEEEE!


    The referee''s whistle brought Richard back to reality.


    From the outset, City played with exceptional composure, choosing not to rush the ball forward but instead working it methodically through the midfield.


    After refining their skills for more than half a season, City''s performance had been steadily improving. With the return of Ronaldo, their left wing became the trump card in dismantling Arsenal''s defense!


    This directly disrupted Arsenal and hamstrung their ground-based attacks, making it impossible for them to find their forwards. As a result, they were forced to revert to a more traditional English long-ball strategy, attempting to bypass the midfield entirely.


    However, Marco Materazzi and William Gallas were no easy opponents. In physical duels, Arsenal''s forwards struggled to hold their ground.


    With half an hour gone in the match, City grew more energetic and confident as their midfield partnership flowed seamlessly, while Arsenal''s Ray Parlour, David Platt, and John Jensen were left puffing and wheezing.


    Frequent shots from range left Arsenal''s defense frustrated, as Adams and Keown shouted for their backline to push forward.


    They weren''t afraid of leaving gaps behind them¡ªtheir defense was not only renowned throughout the Premier League, but also infamous across Europe for the irritation it caused other teams. They had a specialty: creating offside traps.


    The chemistry of their defense was difficult for other teams to replicate, and successfully orchestrating offside traps had become their proudest skill.


    In the 35th minute of the first half, Tony Adams noticed Neil Lennon pass the ball to the right flank, where Shevchenko stood ready.


    Seeing that Shevchenko had no intention of dribbling, Adams quickly stepped forward, placing Henry in an offside position behind him.


    The other two center-backs, Martin Keown and Steve Bould, acted in harmony, ensuring Henry fell into the offside trap, while Shevchenko unexpectedly didn''t cross the ball and instead waited.


    But... what was he waiting for?


    That question flashed through everyone''s minds¡ªfans, players, even the Arsenal bench.


    Wait, Roberto Carlos! No, that''s City''s new guy¡ªJavier Zanetti! sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Like lightning out of nowhere, Javier Zanetti emerged on the right flank with a perfectly timed overlapping run.


    Adams raised his hand, signaling that Zanetti was offside.


    But the assistant referee didn''t raise his flag, and this made Tony Adams furious. He stormed toward the assistant referee, shouting, "That guy in the middle was offside! That goal should be disallowed!"


    The assistant referee remained unfazed. "That player was not offside."


    Replays showed that Arsenal''s offside trap had faltered. Technically, Adams was correct¡ªas long as Henry remained in his original position and didn''t drop deeper.


    Since Adams was actively in the play, his vision was naturally limited¡ªunlike the assistant referee, who clearly saw that Henry had already dropped deeper by the time Shevchenko received the ball.


    The 4-3-3 formation was Henry''s forte, as Monaco had used it in nearly every match. When Henry saw that Ronaldo never pushed forward and always stayed central to receive the ball, he understood he needed to stay upfront¡ªbut he was also aware of Arsenal''s intention to catch him in an offside trap.


    Players in an offside position could be penalized even if they weren''t directly involved in the play, depending on how the referee interpreted "interfering with play."


    It was only after the 2003 rule update that the definition of offside was clarified and relaxed¡ªparticularly concerning passive offside. Players not interfering with play were no longer penalized unless they: touched the ball, interfered with an opponent, or gained an advantage from being in an offside position.


    Zanetti didn''t sprint blindly. Instead, he surged forward with purpose, scanning the field as he approached the edge of the box. With Nigel Winterburn momentarily distracted by Lennon''s presence, Zanetti feinted wide but cut inside with characteristic elegance.


    As he did, Henry¡ªinitially positioned in the center¡ªhad already dropped deeper, dragging both Tony Adams and Martin Keown with him and creating a sudden pocket of space on the left.


    Zanetti didn''t hesitate. With one sharp touch, he slipped a diagonal pass across the box toward the left flank¡ªright into the path of Ronaldo, who had timed his run to perfection!


    With the defense stretched and off-balance, Ronaldo now had time, space, and the ball at his feet¡ªthree things no backline ever wants to give him.


    Lee Dixon, Arsenal''s right-back, naturally wasn''t going to let Ronaldo roam free just like that.


    Or so he thought.


    Because mere seconds after moving to mark him, Dixon found himself lying flat on the grass, staring at the sky, wondering where Ronaldo¡ªand possibly his dignity¡ªhad gone.


    "Look at this¡ªRonaldo gets the ball just outside the box¡­ watch the feet... one step-over, two¡ªnow the drop of the shoulder... and BOOM! He sells Dixon the dream with that signature double step-over. Then, with a lightning-quick shift of balance, he cuts inside. Dixon''s momentum is still going one way, and Ronaldo''s already gone the other! That''s not just dribbling¡ªthat''s deception at speed!"


    Now it''s one-on-one with David Seaman¡ªArsenal''s last line of defense. Everyone in the stadium knows how this situation usually ends¡­ the ball at Ronaldo''s feet, space ahead, and the keeper trapped in a nightmare.


    You don''t stop him¡ªyou just hope he misses.


    "You put your right foot in~"


    "You drag the ball out~"


    "You do the Ronaldo, and you turn them about~"


    "You stick the ball past the keeper''s head~"


    "The ball''s in the back of the net~"


    "Oh, Ronaldo, oh, Ronaldo~"


    "Oh, Ronaldo, that''s what it''s all about~"


    After Ronaldo scored, City''s players rushed to the sidelines to celebrate as the familiar rhythm of the crowd erupted.


    Bruce Rioch''s face turned pale as panic set in. He shouted from the touchline, urging his players to push forward aggressively.


    But the harder Arsenal pressed, the more ruthlessly City punished them.


    In the 41st minute, John Jensen attempted a risky pass between McNamara and Zanetti. He miscalculated¡ªbecause before the ball even reached Ian Wright, Zanetti, once again, intercepted it.


    Ronaldo kept Arsenal''s left side busy with his dazzling dribbling, while Zanetti literally choked the right with his relentless two-way play.


    Zanetti looked up, saw Henry making a run, and didn''t hesitate.


    A perfect through ball split Arsenal''s defense.


    Henry sprinted past Tony Adams, received the ball gracefully with his chest, and with one touch¡ªone finish¡ªhe struck the ball mid-air toward the top-right corner of the net.


    GOAL!


    Arsenal 0¨C2 Manchester City!


    Silence. Shock. The away end exploded.


    In the 44th minute, just moments before the end of the first half, Arsenal had already thrown everything forward.


    They took a short corner, hoping to recycle possession.


    Instead, Jackie McNamara intercepted it and launched a long ball forward.


    Henry chased it down, sprinting past Adams before squaring it across to Shevchenko, who was completely unmarked on the right.


    Shevchenko calmly lobbed the ball just as David Seaman lunged¡ªleaving Highbury in stunned silence.


    GOAL!


    Manchester City 3¨C0 Arsenal!


    In the executive box, Richard was ready to pump his fist in celebration¡ªuntil he caught a glimpse of David Dein''s darkened, expressionless face. At this point, the result between Manchester City and Arsenal felt all but set in stone.


    The only question now was: could Arsenal avoid further humiliation¡ªor would the floodgates open even wider?


    In the second half, City made several substitutions, and unexpectedly, Okocha, Lampard, Nakata, and Robbie Savage came on to replace Mark van Bommel, Neil Lennon, Jackie McNamara, and Ronaldo. They also changed their formation from a 4-3-3 to a classic 4-4-2.


    The result?


    City fans roared with delight at the performance of their debutants, while Gunners supporters sat in silent despair for their beloved club.


    In the 64th minute, the new guy, Okocha, danced past both Steve Bould and Nigel Winterburn before burying a low shot into the bottom corner.


    Manchester City 4¨C0 Arsenal!


    Then, in the 88th minute, something ridiculous happened.


    City won a free-kick deep inside their own half. Nakata, being the closest player to the ball, picked it up¡ªinitially intending to play a short pass. But out of the corner of his eye, he noticed David Seaman far off his line.


    Instead of laying it short, Nakata struck the ball cleanly.


    It flew¡ªhigh and true¡ªover everyone.


    David Seaman, caught way too far forward, backpedaled in panic as he followed the ball''s arc.


    But it was too late.


    It sailed over his head and straight into the empty net.


    GOAL!


    Manchester City 5¨C0 Arsenal!


    What an utterly embarrassing day for Arsenal. Instead of taking revenge for their League Cup loss, they were demolished.


    PHWEEEE!


    The final whistle blew.


    After the match, Richard extended his hand toward David Dein.


    Dein shook it¡ªbriefly, coldly¡ªhis eyes fixed forward, jaw clenched. Not a single word left his mouth as he stormed out of the executive box, his footsteps echoing with quiet fury.


    Richard watched him go, then gave a slight shrug.


    What could he say? The scoreboard said it all.


    A statement win for City.


    A nightmare for Arsenal.


    The very next day seemed like any other. Richard, after waking up in his new room at the Marine Road training camp¡ªwhich was already 80% complete¡ªheaded to Maine Road Stadium for work as usual.


    However, just before he could hang his coat in his office, shocking news hit him:


    Bruce Rioch had been fired by the Arsenal board!


    Officially, the reason given was a dispute with the board of directors over transfer funds.


    But everyone knew the truth.


    The 5¨C0 demolition.


    Not long after the sacking of Bruce Rioch, another major announcement sent shockwaves through English football.


    Rumors were swirling¡ªArsenal wanted to appoint Ars¨¨ne Wenger as their new manager.


    Wenger had been managing Nagoya Grampus Eight in Japan for the past year, far from the spotlight of European football.


    Many fans and pundits asked, ''Ars¨¨ne who?''


    Ridiculous!


    And while the media questioned the decision, one thing was clear: change was coming to Arsenal.