Football Dynasty-Chapter 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—these places needed serious work. The row of office buildings lining the main road topped his list. Their exteriors were an eyesore—walls 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—he 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—almost 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—at 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—" 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—graffiti-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—an 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—Tottenham, 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—dreams 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—"

"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—do 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—you've got this!"

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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—he 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—Manchester 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.

"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.