Football Dynasty-Chapter 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 £5 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—where his girlfriend, or rather, ex-girlfriend now (?)—stormed 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?

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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 He tried calling her number, but it was no longer active.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—technically, they had never even discussed breaking up.

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—some 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—always 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—gentrification 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—there 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 £2,500,000.

A clean £900,000 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—other than successfully getting Alan Shearer into Southampton—there 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—but nothing came of it. Frustrated, the young player kicked a bottle in anger, sending it flying—straight into Richard's head.

That made him furious. His head was still a sensitive subject—who 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—there 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—his 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—accompanying 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—15-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—not 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—housing, 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—convincing 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—especially 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—the collapse of the Watford takeover.

He had read about it in the newspapers—Watford 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—Watford was set to be sold to Robert Maxwell's British Printing and Communication Corporation for £2 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—one 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 £2,500,000 in his account, he was ready to make a name for himself in English football.

That was what he thought—until 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—your 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—fallen 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—"

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—first 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—at 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!