Football Dynasty-Chapter 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—a good one, I admit—but 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—football isn't just about kicking a ball around."

"You think you know better, huh?" Richard snapped, stepping forward. "You just wasted £700,000 on a brick wall with feet! Meanwhile, you ignored Ian Wright—who, by the way, just scored 33 goals for Greenwich Borough! For PEANUTS!"

"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—a 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—only to be ignored—fueled 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—a 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—every 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—without 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—Machin 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—those 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—Machin 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—how 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—so 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—judging by his attire—was 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—before 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—because 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—poor management, outdated recruitment policies, a team stuck in mediocrity—they decide the best course of action is to get rid of me?"

The journalists stirred—this 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—remember 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—even 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?"

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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—the 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—except perhaps Sheringham, but he was currently on loan at Swedish side Djurgården.

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—this 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—only 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.