Chapter 407: Before the Semi-Final
As the season drew closer to its conclusion—or to be exact, since December—Manchester City’s starting lineup had begun to display a visually pleasing synergy on the pitch, seemingly abandoning the outdated POMO theory that had plagued English football for three decades.
Watching them play, one would no longer see endless crosses from the wings or attackers blindly charging into the box. Instead, their attacking play was layered, fluid, and unpredictable.
Over the next three weekends, Manchester City faced a busy schedule. First, they swept aside Bolton Wanderers and then Southampton, while Arsenal unexpectedly stumbled with two draws. After the 34th league fixture, City maintained their momentum, delivering a resounding win that pushed Tottenham Hotspur deeper into crisis—hovering dangerously in 17th place and on the brink of relegation.
However, rather than being swept up in joy, the atmosphere at Manchester City grew tense as they stood on the brink of a historic moment!
It felt like the calm before a storm. The reason was simple: with only four league matches remaining, Manchester City held the best goal difference. If they won their last four matches, they would undoubtedly lift the Premier League trophy.
No— to be exact, theoretically with an 11-point lead, it meant only one thing: fixture 35 would be the decider!
Richard hadn’t been in his seat as club owner long enough to possess decades of experience, but his achievements spoke louder than longevity. In just three years at the helm, he had managed to guide the club to their first major trophy in 103 years of history—a feat that instantly elevated him into the conversation as not only the most successful owner in England, but perhaps even in Europe.
Over the following days, Richard’s fame reached new heights, increasing his influence, especially in Manchester, the atmosphere intensified.
On Friday, the Manchester Evening News ran an article with a striking observation: while experts constantly debated the value of Manchester City’s players, some even went so far as to question how one might calculate Richard’s worth.
In the writer’s opinion, Manchester City’s true star was neither Ronaldo, Larsson, nor Zidane, nor even Lennon, Cannavaro, or Makelele—it was Richard himself. Had Richard not bought Manchester City in 1994, replacing Francis Lee, more than 95% of fans would have likely reevaluated their view of the club, downgrading City’s competitiveness by at least a full tier.
Whether through transfers, policy decisions, or managerial appointments, Richard Maddox carried a charisma that rivaled not only other club owners but even the stars of the Premier League. Of course, he still needed trophies to validate his impact—but hypothetically, if he could crown his tenure with a championship, how much would his value rise then?
One undeniable truth was that the celebrity effect was indeed significant.
"Are you here on holiday?" Richard asked the man who suddenly appeared in front of him, his expression calm.
Celebrities were no rarity in the United Kingdom—even in Manchester, let alone London. If he wished, he could accompany his elder brother Harry to countless parties, dinners, or galas, mingling daily with people from the worlds of entertainment, politics, and business.
Armani shook his head. "No, I’m preparing for the summer fashion show tour in Birmingham. Tonight, by chance, we’ll be passing through Manchester, so I stopped by. I came today to invite you to dinner with a few of my models." He spoke before pointing behind him.
Following Armani’s glance, Richard noticed a group of stunning young women waiting outside the office. A few glanced over, flashing smiles and batting their eyes—though Richard couldn’t tell if they were trying to impress their boss or catch his attention instead.
He quickly looked away and nodded. "Understood. Mr. Armani, but tell me—what truly brings you here? Don’t tell me it’s only for dinner. Are you trying to make me believe that?"
Now, not only were Manchester City fans becoming more loyal than ever, but an increasing number of neutral supporters were also beginning to turn their attention toward the club. This surge of backing was reflected in tangible ways—sales of jerseys and memorabilia soared, filling shops with sky-blue merchandise that sold out faster than it could be restocked.
Even more remarkable was the attention from outside the football world. Armani himself had seen the opportunity, approaching Richard with a proposal to have Manchester City players feature as ambassadors and models for his latest fashion line. Though some declined, at least a few—such as Neil Lennon, Larsson, and Ronaldo—agreed to take part within the agreed timeframe.
"Since arriving in Manchester, I’ve picked up several newspapers—and your face appears constantly. See this?"
He showed Richard a few clippings: one at Highbury’s VIP section, another at Stamford Bridge, one at Anfield, and, of course, at Maine Road.
"There’s a quality about you that draws the eye. Most men would want to imitate you, knowing it makes them more appealing to women."
Richard’s mouth twitched. He could already guess where this was heading.
"Mr. Armani, thank you for the compliment, but you still haven’t answered my question."
Armani leaned forward slightly. "How would you feel about wearing Armani menswear?"
"I don’t have time to shoot commercials," Richard replied evenly. "And outside of winter, I rarely wear anything heavier than a coat."
"There’s no need for advertising," Armani explained smoothly. "Your status is different from the players—I wouldn’t ask you to be an ambassador. We can simply provide you with casual wear, free of charge. Wear whatever you like. With the British paparazzi, you’ll still end up in the gossip columns from time to time."
Richard smiled but remained silent. The very fact that the great Armani had come to him personally already told him everything—Armani was desperate. From what Richard had heard, Armani had just opened its first Collezioni Giorgio Armani stores in the major fashion capitals—London, after Milan, and Tokyo. Though long favored by celebrities, it seemed Armani now wanted to extend his influence into the world of athletes, aligning with the brand’s global expansion.
But would Richard agree? How could he, especially with Adidas already circling around Manchester City?
"There’s only one condition," Richard finally said. His tone was calm but firm. "Right now, my role here is as Director of High Performance, not the club’s owner. So if you want to endorse me, you’ll need to go through our CEO first."
Indirectly... rejected!
Armani’s face fell for the briefest moment, disappointment flickering across his refined features before he quickly masked it with a polite smile.
"I see," he said smoothly, adjusting his cufflinks. "In that case, I won’t impose further. Consider my invitation to dinner open, Richard. If you ever change your mind, my door will always be open as well."
He rose gracefully, extended his hand, and with a firm shake added, "Success in football or fashion—it all comes down to timing. Perhaps our paths will align again."
With that, Armani bid farewell, his entourage of models trailing behind him as they left the office. The faint scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air long after the door had closed.
After parting ways with Armani, Richard decided to refocus on the club.
"Just a little more—let’s focus on the remaining matches," Richard said as he personally arranged another meeting with O’Neill and Mourinho.
The burden fell especially on O’Neill, though he couldn’t afford to let it show. Such a visible strain would be difficult for the players to bear, and he feared it might create a rift between himself and the team.
The atmosphere in training shifted noticeably. While the players usually worked hard under his supervision—often lightening the mood with the occasional joke—they had now grown strangely quiet as the Champions League semifinal drew closer, burying themselves in their drills.
Richard turned to Mourinho, who was seated next to O’Neill, and asked, "Is Joan’s technical training still focused on dribbling?"
The moment Richard recognized Capdevilla’s weakness, he immediately relayed it to O’Neill and Mourinho. The problem was simple: it didn’t matter how many players he dribbled past. Even if he dazzled by beating seven or eight men starting from the back, failing to finish or deliver an end product made it all inefficient.
His poor crossing, in particular, significantly diminished the threat level of his breakthroughs.
Mourinho and O’Neill had already been providing additional skills training for many players outside of regular practice sessions.
The Portuguese assistant manager replied, "Dribbling is still the focus, but please don’t just judge him by what you see on the pitch. Look at how much he’s improved compared to the start of the season."
Richard sighed. "But what happens after he beats a man? His crosses don’t find anyone, his shots carry no real threat—it leaves our entire left side pathetically inefficient."
That was Richard’s eye as a former player speaking.
Attacking efficiency, in the end, comes down to goals and shots on target. If no shots are taken, or if every attempt sails wide and no assists are created, then dribbling past opponents means nothing.
Mourinho understood the concern. After a pause, he said, "So, should we put more emphasis on his crossing and shooting?"
Richard shook his head. "I can’t assume he’ll suddenly master crossing, shooting, and dribbling all at once. Instead of spreading him too thin, it’s better to sharpen his finishing after dribbling—ball control into a shot. A winger can get away with poor crossing, but he must have scoring ability."
Mourinho considered it, then nodded. "Alright. I’ll adjust the training to fit his traits."
Richard turned back to the pitch. He knew wingers didn’t have to be flawless crossers, but they absolutely needed to threaten goal—like Pires or Shevchenko, who combined short passes with penetrating runs to score. The wide deliveries could always come from overlapping full-backs like Zanetti.
Not every player could do everything. Energy, time, and talent imposed limits. A coach’s job was to refine what made each player dangerous, not to burden them with every possible role.
Richard was determined to steer him away from tradition and into a modern interpretation of the position.