"I completely understand your persistence now."
When Yang Cheng was called back to the dugout by the fourth official, Brian Kidd was still smiling.
Having played football since childhood, fought countless battles, helped Manchester United win the Champions League, and later managed for decades, Brian Kidd knew all too well what this match meant to Bayswater Chinese.
Three points?
No, that was far too little!
The value of this match was immeasurable.
Because this was the first time Bayswater Chinese had united in the face of adversity and come back from two goals down.
Whether they won or not didn't matter.
What mattered was that after this match, Yang Cheng's team—in terms of tactics, morale, and even player confidence—would step up to a whole new level.
"I told you, Modric is going to become a world-class midfielder!"
Yang Cheng said this with absolute confidence.
Whether he was truly world-class yet, Brian Kidd could not say for sure.
But he already understood Modric's role for Bayswater Chinese.
Or rather, his role in any team.
Technique? Passing? Vision? Controlling the tempo?
None of those!
His rarest quality was that he was not afraid of being pressed, and could deliver the ball even under intense pressure.
Throughout history, such players had been extremely rare.
Of course, Modric was not yet fully mature, and his physique was still a bit lean.
Yet Yang Cheng had undoubtedly foreseen this early on.
That was why he had gone to the lengths of invoking the special talent clause to sign him.
That was why, even when Modric made frequent mistakes, he had defied public opinion and kept him in the starting lineup.
Today, Modric had repaid Yang Cheng with his growth and progress.
This filled Brian Kidd with even greater admiration.
"The connection between Ribery and Modric just now was very impressive."
In Yang Cheng's tactical system, Ribery's ball-carrying and penetration in the final third, alongside Modric's ball retention and control in midfield, were two crucial cores.
Meanwhile, Jonathan Stead—the most eye-catching performer and top scorer this season—and Martin Rowland, who provided the most threatening passes, seemed more like supporting roles.
Or rather, neither of them was indispensable.
"It's a pity our right winger isn't strong enough, and our two full-backs—especially the right back—lack the ability to push forward into the attack. Otherwise, we'd really be ready to take off."
Hearing this, Brian Kidd couldn't help but smile wryly.
Lower-league football was always like that; player selection was invariably limited.
...
The match ultimately ended in a 3-3 draw.
Although Bayswater Chinese failed to secure a victory at home against Brighton, holding them to a draw was still a decent result.
As Yang Cheng went to greet his players, Brighton manager Steve Coppell took the initiative to walk over to Brian Kidd.
Both men hailed from Manchester United and were very familiar with each other.
What puzzled Coppell most was why Brian Kidd would choose to become an assistant coach in the third tier.
If he were a manager, it would barely make sense.
But taking an assistant's job? Wasn't that selling himself short?
"They offered high wages," Brian Kidd replied righteously in front of his old friend.
Naturally, Coppell didn't believe it, but he still glanced over at Yang Cheng.
Although this 3-3 draw ended level, it reflected a great deal.
Judging from the entire match, Bayswater Chinese had actually been the side in control.
The fluid passing and movement that surfaced from time to time left a particularly deep impression on Coppell.
In English football, such a tactical style was rarely seen.
"He's a lot like Arsène Wenger at Arsenal, but even more aggressive," Coppell commented.
Following Coppell's gaze, Brian Kidd looked toward the edge of the stands where Yang Cheng was thanking the fans alongside his players, and smiled faintly.
"He might just bring me what I want. That's why I came here."
Coppell visibly froze for a moment, then gave Yang Cheng a long, deep look and let out a soft sigh.
"Then I wish you luck!"
Coppell knew what Brian Kidd wanted.
In fact, it was what he wanted, what every manager from Manchester United wanted, and indeed what managers across all of English football wanted.
It was just that Brian Kidd carried a bit more personal baggage in the mix.
For football men like them coming out of Manchester United, Alex Ferguson was an insurmountable monument.
Defeating Alex Ferguson was their lifelong pursuit!
And the best way to pay tribute to Alex Ferguson!
...
Stamford Bridge shone as bright as day under the night lights.
When referee Mike Dean blew the final whistle, over forty thousand Chelsea fans felt thoroughly dissatisfied with the result.
2-2, Chelsea had been held to a draw at home by Blackburn.
This was matchweek 4 of the Premier League.
The club's owner, Russian billionaire Roman Abramovich, accompanied by chairman Bruce Buck, agent Pini Zahavi, and others, watched the match from a VIP box at Stamford Bridge.
He was very disappointed with the team under Ranieri's management!
Just this summer transfer window, the Russian had brought big names like Crespo, Duff, Mutu, Veron, Makelele, Bridge, Geremi, and Joe Cole to Chelsea.
He had spent nearly 120 million pounds!
Actual pounds!
And yet, the start of the new season was 2 wins and 2 draws, leaving them stuck in 4th place.
And Arsenal?
They were currently on a 4-match winning streak, already 4 points ahead.
True, the season was still long, but falling behind right at the start deeply displeased Abramovich.
"Ranieri doesn't look like a man who can bring victory and success to the team!"
Abramovich ran massive businesses, had encountered all sorts of people, and fancied himself a good judge of character.
Ranieri simply didn't look like the kind of winner who carried an aura of automatic triumph.
Pini Zahavi nodded with a smile beside him.
He had made a fortune during the summer transfer window.
Putting everything else aside, the commissions alone had been astronomical.
"Don't worry, Roman. I'm already looking around, and I guarantee I'll bring you the best manager in Europe right now."
Abramovich turned his head, glanced at the Israeli, and chuckled with a teasing, friendly smirk.
"You told me before that you could sort out that amateur club up north within a month. Well? How long has it been?"
Pini Zahavi immediately responded with an awkward laugh, mocking himself, "I didn't expect that kid to be so difficult to deal with."
"That kid actually became the manager?"
"Yes, it's utter madness."
Because it was a lower-league club, unless you went looking, you wouldn't really know.
Yet those who did know generally thought it was absurd.
Twenty-three years old, the owner's son, acting as manager?
Wasn't this just a rich kid messing around?
"A bit of madness is fine. You still need to figure something out on your end and speed things up."
Abramovich had never been short of money.
Pini Zahavi pondered for a moment and nodded. "I've had a few contacts with that fellow surnamed Lin recently, but they don't want to talk right now. I've looked into it, and perhaps we can start with the company that loaned them money."
"I had Kes Harris look into it. That firm isn't large and doesn't stand out much in the City of London, so we should be able to find a way."
"Then get on with it!"
Abramovich turned his head back to look out at Stamford Bridge.
Ever since the first time he laid eyes on this stadium, he had disliked it.
With land already purchased to build a training ground, he could hardly wait to buy Bayswater Stadium.
He was going to build the most luxurious football stadium in all of Europe—no, the entire world—right there!
Only a stadium like that would be worthy of the powerhouse he, Roman Abramovich, was building!
...
The next morning.
While the media across Europe and the world were gloating over Chelsea's consecutive draws, Chris Hunt of Elvino Asset Management, located in the West End of the City of London, was summoned into his boss's office the moment he arrived at work.
"Take a look for yourself."
Following his boss's gesture, Chris Hunt saw the freshly printed weekend match report from The Sun.
In a very unassuming section, tucked away in a corner, he saw the latest League Two standings and the weekend's fixture results.
Bayswater Chinese had drawn 3-3 at home with Brighton, placing 15th.
Although Brighton had been held away from home and dropped a spot, they were still 4th.
"I don't know what you were thinking back then, actually believing that club could come back from the dead."
"Look at them now: five matches played, sitting in 15th place, no different from the past few seasons. A proper relegation battler."
Chris Hunt endured his boss's verbal bombardment until the man's anger subsided slightly before he spoke up.
"Boss, the season has only just begun. I've been keeping a close eye on Bayswater Chinese, and in the long run..."
"Don't talk to me about the long run. I never intended to play a long game."
The boss interrupted Chris Hunt without a shred of politeness.
"If we let that Chinese kid keep messing around, this club is definitely getting relegated. Not even a dozen Brian Kids could save them."
"In recent years, how many outrageous things have happened in League One, League Two, and even the Premier League? How many clubs have completely botched it?"
"Right now, all I care about is my three million pounds!"
Chris Hunt smacked his lips, desperately wanting to point out that they had only loaned out two million pounds...
Instead, he chose silence.
"I've been thinking, we can't just let them carry on with this nonsense while we sit on our hands. We need to take matters into our own hands and figure something out."
Chris Hunt was stunned.
The money had already been lent out; what other options were there?
"That plot of land..." The boss stared at Chris Hunt, his eyes gleaming.
A deep greed shone within that light.
"I know there are clubs and other companies interested in that land. We need to look into it, figure out how to pry that land loose, and flip it for a profit."
Chris Hunt frowned in surprise.
Wasn't this backstabbing a bit too ruthless?
Yet the boss before him hummed twice. "Don't forget, Chris, according to the contract, if the land is sold within two years, we get a 20% cut."
Now Chris Hunt finally understood.
His boss had never believed from the very beginning that Bayswater Chinese could stage a comeback.
From the moment the money was lent, he had been plotting to extract the land and sell it off.
He'd make a fortune off Bayswater Chinese through high interest rates, cash in again on a share of the land sale, find a buyer, broker the deal for a hefty commission, and maybe even pocket the price difference...
This was what they called milking every last drop out of a single fish.
"Keep a low profile for now, and help me keep a close eye on Bayswater Chinese. Once I've lined up a buyer and everything is ready, we'll make our move."
Chris Hunt sighed inwardly.
This was why he could only ever be an employee rather than the boss.
It was too damn sinister!
During the new book period, I humbly beg for all kinds of votes. Thank you very much!