Richard wasn't trying to look cool, but he couldn't help flashing a smile as he held little Jarred, his nephew, in his arms. With Ronaldo's goal, the floodgates opened. Manchester City overwhelmed Bellmare Hiratsuka, turning the match into a rout as the score surged to 3–0.

After the match clock showed the 60th minute, he immediately stood up with his family. They didn't even wait for the final whistle, choosing to leave early to avoid getting trapped in the post-match crowd.

After Bellmare Hiratsuka, the real pre-season was just beginning—at least from a management perspective. Their next destination was Shinjuku, central Tokyo. Miss Heysen, Marina Granovskaia, and Karren Brady arrived the next day. They were there for meetings with sponsors for Manchester City.

Brother, a Japanese electronics and printer company, was the club's sole Japan-regional partner. This sponsor tied to Manchester City was eagerly anticipating the club's success in every pre-season match in Japan.

Manchester City's arrival in Tokyo ignited a wave of football enthusiasm throughout the city. Over the course of two days after the Bellmare match, the first team participated in two commercial events. If Mourinho were merely coaching the club, he would certainly have opposed this. However, as he also had to take part in the activities, he couldn't avoid it.

He understood the importance of participating, given the impact on the club's reputation and commercial opportunities. The players also didn't mind, as these events could clearly boost their income. Still, Richard recognized the need to keep such commitments to a minimum. Aside from Brother and Range Rover, the rest were politely declined.

While the first team enjoyed their respective activities, the focus today shifted to the youth fixtures. On July 5th at 1:30 PM, a friendly match between Manchester City U17 and a Japanese youth officially kicked off at Japan National Stadium (Kasumigaoka).

The U17 match was of particular interest to Umbro, who had recently signed on to support City's lower-tier teams. They were already seeing an immediate return on their investment.

The venue was packed, with Japanese fans eager to support their team up close. With the youth match scheduled for today and the senior teams set to play the following day, the event felt like a double feature for the price of a single ticket.

That was why all 60,000 tickets sold out within 24 hours of going on sale.

The stadium wasn't particularly modern—arguably even less accommodating than Maine Road. There were no proper VIP boxes for watching the match, so the Japan Football Association had to clear a special area where VIP guests could both view the game and hold business conversations comfortably.

There, Richard sat with the association staff. Next to him was Ken Naganuma, the president of the Japan Football Association.

Naganuma had made significant contributions to Japanese football, particularly around the 1998 World Cup campaign. The foundation of a century-long football plan and the discipline to carry it out steadily began under his leadership. Although he had only been president for four years, he would remain in office for many more, providing the stability that allowed Japanese football to pursue long-term development.

Throughout the match, Naganuma frequently leaned over to whisper to Richard, doing most of the talking himself. Richard, on the other hand, spoke very little, partly because he struggled to follow Mr. Naganuma's limited English and often needed time to understand what he was trying to say.

He explained that Japanese football had learned from Brazil's example and chosen to focus on technique and technology—an approach better suited to Japanese players. If they tried to rely on physical confrontation, he said, they would struggle to make an impact beyond Asia and might even find it difficult to dominate within East Asia, let alone compete with the physically stronger teams from West Asia.

The youth match was limited to under-17 players. The Japanese team was made up almost entirely of 17-year-olds, while City's squad had only small differences in age.

They lined up in a 4–4–2 formation.

In goal were Richard Wright and Chris Kirkland. There were no defensive superstars in this side, but when you looked at the midfield and attackers, it was clear that people would one day look back in amazement at just how many future stars were gathered there at the same time.

Sixteen-year-olds Mikel Arteta and Michael Essien formed the core of the midfield, supported by Stewart Downing and Kieron Dyer on the left and right.

Up front were seventeen-year-old Shaun Wright-Phillips and sixteen-year-old Jermain Defoe.

Soon the match was underway. In Japan, football might not have been the most popular sport, but the rise of the national game had captured the imagination of millions. The crowd had come to support their youth team, yet as the minutes passed, the cheers from the stands slowly began to fade.

Despite their discipline and preparation, the Japanese youngsters found it difficult to cope with Manchester City's tempo. Their attacks broke down before they could form, and every misplaced pass was punished by a swift City counterattack.

Essien stepped in with a clean interception and quickly fed the ball to Arteta, who exchanged a sharp one-two with Shaun Wright-Phillips, slicing through the defense with ease.

Richard's eyes lit up at the new ammunition coming from Manchester City's U17 side.

Shaun Wright-Phillips had been released by Nottingham Forest as a youth player because the staff felt he was too small and not physically developed enough to progress into the older age groups. As a result, he was not offered a Youth Training Scheme contract and was let go by the club.

After that setback, Richard heard about his situation through personal connections and asked City's scouts to bring him into Manchester City's youth setup. Marina handled the contract, and from that point on, Wright-Phillips pushed himself harder than ever, eventually becoming one of City's most exciting young talents.

Arteta spotted the run early and slipped a precise through ball into space. Wright-Phillips burst down the left wing, leaving the defenders trailing. Reaching the byline, he cut the ball back toward the edge of the box, sold a quick feint that froze the nearest marker, and then struck cleanly.

Wright-Phillips had timed his movement perfectly, arriving unmarked to guide the ball into the net.

It had taken just three minutes.

The spectators sat in stunned silence. Even Ken Naganuma looked visibly surprised.

Was this really a youth match?

The quick exchanges and sharp understanding between Arteta and Wright-Phillips were mesmerizing—short passes, constant movement, and awareness that seemed far beyond their age.

Naganuma was momentarily speechless. He had expected a gap between Japan's technical discipline and Manchester City's tactical structure, but not one this wide.

After the goal, Wright-Phillips jogged back with a grin, exchanging a high-five with Arteta before returning to position for the restart.

The current U17 manager was André Villas-Boas, personally appointed by Richard and approved by Mourinho. Being from the same country, communication between the youth and senior setups was seamless, allowing ideas and philosophy to flow easily from one level to the next.

Villas-Boas paid little attention to this opponent, and the match offered limited training value for City. Against a power-oriented team, there might have been more lessons to learn. But facing a side only halfway toward a technical style, City's youngsters thrived effortlessly. With simple passing and control, they dominated the game.

The physical battles were far less intense than those in England's youth league. On a real stage, in fiercely competitive matches, scoring alone isn't enough—you need physicality for positioning and ball protection. That's the kind of challenge that truly shapes players.

The Japanese youth struggled to control the game's tempo. The moment they crossed midfield, they were under pressure, and their passing sequences rarely extended beyond three successful touches. Individual dribbles were quickly shut down by Millwall's superior physicality.

City U17 dictated the play from start to finish. When opportunities on the flanks were limited, they attacked through the middle, with Essien, Arteta, Wright-Philips, and Defoe linking up flawlessly without forcing the play. Their movement and passing created openings, culminating in another goal when Downing fired a shot into the bottom corner from the edge of the box.

2–0, and barely 11 minutes had passed.

"Mr. Maddox, how long have these kids been playing together?" Naganuma pondered aloud.

The scene left the spectators stunned, and Naganuma himself, as the Japanese president, wore a grim expression. If City had won through sheer individual brilliance, that would have been understandable—the physical prowess of European players is well known. But both goals had not come from individual players simply outclassing their opponents; they were the result of seamless teamwork.

After a moment, Richard replied, "That's a tough question. Some of these players have been at the club for quite a while. For example, the kid who scored the second goal has been with City for three and a half years. Others joined two and a half years ago, or a year and a half ago, and only three players on the field have been with the club for just six months."

"It's no wonder they have such chemistry," Naganuma murmured.

Richard fell silent. In just eleven minutes, Manchester City U17 had exposed the vast gulf between themselves and the Japanese youth team, who had absolutely no way to respond.

With a two-goal lead, City U17 played even more freely, showcasing their individual skills. Downing and Essien repeatedly tore apart the Japanese right-back, forcing the opposition to send center-backs and midfielders to help defend—opening gaps elsewhere.

Wright-Philips was having a blast today. With the wide midfield drawing defenders toward him, he had Essien and Arteta providing service from behind. By halftime, he had already scored three goals.

The scoreline left the Japanese fans regretting their ticket purchases. Thankfully, there was another match tomorrow—at least that would give them a chance to redeem themselves.

PHWEEEEE~

7–0.

Such a scoreline was brutally humiliating!

The Japanese youth had collapsed completely just minutes into the game, their defense disorganized and full of holes.

This was why Richard had agreed to bring the U17 side, even though the cost was somewhat high. Money wasn't a problem for City at the moment, and he believed the match offered little training value for the players—the gap was simply too vast. The tactical awareness of the opponents was alarmingly weak, and their psychological state crumbled after conceding the third goal, leading to repeated defensive mistakes.

During the break, officials from the Japanese Football Association, led by Mr. Ken Naganuma, gathered closely to discuss matters in hushed tones. His serious demeanor suggested that the match had highlighted their deficiencies, or perhaps exposed them to a far more formidable style of play. They did not appear enraged or humiliated. After all, the game had been lavishly sponsored by Japan's associates, who had brought City over specifically to expose the youth team's limitations. One really couldn't blame their opponents for going all out.

Villas-Boas made four substitutions during halftime.

Essien, Arteta, Downing, and Defoe were taken off, replaced by Xabi Alonso and Sergio Busquets at the heart of the midfield, with James Milner and David Silva moving out wide.

The first substitutionis normal; Xabi Alonso, though only 18 this year, was still within the U17 category. But when Busquets, Milner, and Silva entered the field, the Japanese fans went wild.

Are Manchester City deliberately trying to humiliate us?

James Milner and David Silva barely looked 15, and what was Sergio Busquets doing out there? He was probably only 14!

In fact, nobody would have guessed he was 11—judging by his height.

In the second half, the Japanese youth made a complete overhaul. The players who had been thoroughly beaten in the first half were close to their breaking point. There seemed little to gain from continuing the match—perhaps a pause to regroup would serve them better.

Naganuma returned to his seat, only to see City making fresh substitutions. He frowned and muttered, "Mr. Maddox, is this a slight from Manchester City?"

Richard paused, then asked, "Mr. Naganuma, does the Japanese Football Association expect City to take this match seriously, or treat it as a formality?"

"Of course, we hope you give it your all!"

"Then let's simply enjoy the second half from here," Richard replied.

Naganuma clenched his hands but forced calm. Like the fans, he couldn't help feeling that City seemed ready to toy with the Japanese side. Tactical changes were expected, but not in such an openly humiliating way.

The newly introduced Japanese players faced the City front line—two of whom were noticeably smaller than the rest—which only deepened their frustration.

Are they looking down on us?

The second half began, and the spectators were left in stunned silence. Even Naganuma had no words.

Busquets intercepted a loose ball and slid it to Alonso, who immediately fed Defoe. Silva sprinted to join him, and in that tight space, the duo began a dazzling sequence. A quick one-two, then a two-on-two; just as a third defender lunged to block their wall pass, Silva shifted his weight, darted past, and threaded a perfect through ball into the gap between the defenders.

As he prepared to shoot, a sliding defender tried to block him. But Silva, with a deft touch, pulled the ball back into the center. Now one-on-one with the goalkeeper, he could have scored with a simple push—but not today. Today, he wanted to dazzle. He charged forward, executed a series of slick footwork tricks, and flicked the ball over the defense with a stylish heel touch.

The ball sailed into the net.

A stunned silence fell across the stadium for a moment… then the Japanese fans erupted into applause, cheering David Silva's sheer flair and brilliance on the ball.

This player, despite being much younger than the rest, played with such flair and elegance, scoring effortlessly. No matter how steadfast the defenders stood, the crowd couldn't resist applauding him.

Richard shook his head slightly, a wry smile appearing on his face.

'This kid is up to his old tricks again. But it's just a friendly match; there's no harm in indulging his vanity a little.'

Mr. Ken Naganuma was utterly astounded. Throughout the first half, Manchester City's players had rarely displayed such technical prowess, leaving him wondering whether this was something all their players could do, or if this level of quality was simply their standard.

In fact, Richard knew that Villas-Boas had sent most of their top youth players onto the pitch to let them experience the game and soak in the atmosphere.

As the small-statured Silva shielded the ball, twisting and turning to evade three defenders, the entire audience was left stunned.

The Japanese youth found no opportunity to foul him; that little guy was incredibly infuriating!

He zigzagged left and right, forward and back, moving at an almost casual pace—until a defender drew near. Then he would explode with speed, leaving them chasing shadows and nearly in agony.

Sergio Busquets was having his fun too, dazzling the crowd with slick, effortless moves that earned loud cheers. No one could press him. A slight shoulder feint here, a subtle shift in weight there, and his opponent would be left flat-footed as he slipped past, leaving them scrambling.

Not to mention Alonso—just as they thought about closing him down, he released a long pass like a missile, cutting through the defense with surgical precision.

And James Milner… he was unstoppable. His stamina seemed endless, running up and down the pitch like a thoroughbred, never letting a moment of play go by. Whether defending or joining the attack, he was everywhere, a whirlwind of energy and determination.

Together, the trio orchestrated a symphony of speed, skill, and vision that left the Japanese defenders bewildered and the spectators mesmerized.

Every touch, every pass, every darting run seemed to reaffirm that City's U17 were playing at a level far beyond what anyone had expected.