Chapter 413: Take the Premier League!
"I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe it! Folks, it feels like a dream, yet everything you’re seeing is very real! Manchester City has absolutely set the Premier League alight this season! Eight goals in a single match—unprecedented! And with a total of eight goals, they’ve also created history with one of the largest margins of victory the league has ever witnessed!"
In the Sky Sports press room, after Andy Gray’s initial excitement, it was Martin Tyler’s turn. He gestured wildly toward the pitch, eyes sparkling.
"Eight goals in one match—unprecedented! The total of eight goals not only sets a new benchmark for the club, but also marks one of the largest margins of victory in league history. Every player on that field contributed to a performance that will be remembered for decades."
Especially in this match, where the opposing team was Everton. Even if they struggled to replicate the success of the 1980s, they were still competitive.
"Everton players collapsed on the ground; they should be ashamed of themselves—they are unworthy of wearing the blue jersey. What were they even thinking? Considering how many goals they conceded today without reply, they have added a humiliating record to their team, one that might well stand for a long time. Well, congratulations to Manchester City—O’Neill’s team truly deserves this victory. Their hard work throughout the season culminated in this match. They deserve our applause!"
Manchester City players—and even the staff—sprinted across the field, celebrating together. High-fives flew, fists pumped in the air, and laughter echoed through the stadium. It was a moment to go completely wild, yet controlled chaos reigned.
The fans shared in the jubilation, their energy radiating like a tidal wave. Compared to last year, when supporters had stormed the pitch in a wild celebration after winning the League Cup, today they managed to contain their excitement. Still, emotions ran deep: some wept openly, tears tracing down their faces, while others knelt on the seats, pointing skyward in gratitude.
O’Neill pushed through the crowd, weaving his way past staff and photographers to join the players and coaches at the heart of the celebration.
The entire team linked arms, and together they made their way toward each stand. Hands clapped, voices roared, and scarves waved like banners in the wind. It was a heartfelt tribute to the fans who had cheered them on all season.
Richard took a deep breath, still smiling despite his racing heart. He then turned around. "Ladies and gentlemen, please, excuse me for a moment," he said, a smile on his face that clearly showed he was trying his best to contain his excitement.
"Hahaha, that’s my boy! That’s my boy! Always knew you had it in you," his father exclaimed, seemingly unwilling to let go of Richard as he enveloped him in an excited embrace.
"What are you doing? Can’t you see he’s busy?" his mother rebuked him before turning to Richard. "Go on, and by the way, congratulations, son. Mom is very proud of you." She dabbed at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief.
Richard sighed at this, then stepped forward and hugged her. "Thank you... Mom. All of you," he whispered. "I just—wow. This is incredible. I couldn’t have imagined sharing this moment with anyone else but all of you."
Harry, his brother, could only sigh at how talented Richard was. Without him, he’d probably still be working with their father in the warehouse in Islington. "Alright, alright, enough sappy stuff. Just make it quick—before the others start wondering what’s going on up here."
His sister-in-law nudged him playfully. "Yeah, Richard. Don’t let this go on forever, or we’ll all start clapping for you instead of the team!"
Walking through the tunnel, Richard kept bumping into people one after another—Fay and Alan from Range Rover, Stuart, Adam Lewis—and then, finally, Miss Rowling herself.
"Richard, I’m sorry I can’t attend the historic day in person. You know how it is—"
"It’s okay," Richard cut her off gently, a warm smile on his face. "Thank you for reaching out, though. By the way, how is Harry Potter going? Is everything running smoothly?"
The first book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (1997), had already been published in the UK, and international interest was growing steadily. Scholastic in the US had picked it up, and now they were negotiating and executing global publishing deals for translation and distribution in multiple countries.
The success of the first book meant the series was on the verge of becoming a worldwide phenomenon. She was now working closely with Bloomsbury House to carefully coordinate and manage print runs, marketing campaigns, licensing agreements, and merchandising. Every detail counted—we were building something that we hoped would last for years to come.
Richard nodded, impressed. "It’s amazing to think how far it’s already come."
Miss Rowling laughed softly. "It is. But it’s worth it, especially when you see how readers respond. Every step, every decision—it all matters when you want the story to reach as many people as possible."
Just as Richard was about to respond, his eyes caught someone approaching.
"Good luck! By the way, if you have some free time, please bring Jessica here. Mom misses her very much."
"Hahaha, okay, Richard. I’ll make sure she comes by. Don’t worry."
After exchanging farewells and goodbyes, Richard saw the man clearly.
Keith Wiseman of the Football Association (FA)
FA official Wiseman watched the Manchester City versus Everton match, genuinely smiling. Today’s game was nothing short of spectacular.
8-0.
Completely overwhelming. Manchester City had outclassed their opponents, showcasing a season full of brilliant performances and unforgettable matches. Each game this season seemed to add another highlight to English football’s promotional showcase.
In fact, this season, when Manchester City reached the Champions League final—even if they ultimately didn’t win—they were on track to become only the second English team in history to achieve the domestic double after Arsenal. For a team often considered an underdog, that alone was worthy of immense recognition and... marketing opportunity!
Wiseman clapped lightly, a genuine smile on his face. "First of all—congratulations to Manchester City. What a performance! Eight goals... completely dominant."
Richard nodded politely. "Absolutely. Thank you very much."
Wiseman smiled. "Of course. Truly remarkable... and you know, with someone like you involved, Manchester City’s image could be leveraged in so many ways internationally. Sponsorships, media campaigns... the possibilities are—"
Richard frowned ever so slightly, a small warning bell going off in his mind. "I... appreciate that," he interrupted instantly. "Of course, any promotions or partnerships need to be in the club’s best interest first. By the way, I need to go to the locker room first. If there’s anything else you want to discuss, we can schedule a meeting later."
"Of course, of course. Please, go ahead," Wiseman replied smoothly but his smile didn’t waver, but the shadow behind it was unmistakable.
After winning the Premier League, Manchester City hosted several celebrations, though they weren’t overly extravagant—there were still important fixtures ahead. The locker room buzzed with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration when Richard suddenly appeared, surprising everyone.
"How does it feel to be Premier League champions?" he asked, grinning as he looked around at the team.
"It’s awesome!" a chorus of voices shouted.
"Is that enough?" Richard teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Not enough!" they all yelled back, laughter and cheers filling the room.
Indeed, the season wasn’t over yet. The League Cup still awaited, and beyond that—the ultimate challenge—Real Madrid.
Richard watched them, a proud smile tugging at his lips. "Enjoy this moment," he said, "but remember—history isn’t made by looking back. It’s made by what comes next."
The team erupted in renewed energy, fists punching the air, voices hoarse from celebration yet already charged with determination. Manchester City’s season had been remarkable so far—but the true test was still to come.
He then turned toward O’Neill and beckoned him over, motioning that he wanted to speak privately.
O’Neill nodded, and Richard took a moment to glance at Mourinho, who looked equally confused before pointing at O’Neill in agreement. The three of them eventually left the locker room together.
Once they were alone, Richard wasted no time, asking several questions.
"After the season ends, what about the players’ schedules? Have you already inquired about them?"
O’Neill frowned slightly but answered. "Some players have decided to stay in Manchester for training, as their national teams are preparing for the World Cup, which kicks off on June 8. The ones not called up are thrilled to enjoy a long holiday thanks to the World Cup break."
Richard nodded thoughtfully. Without international duties, the players were excited to relax and recharge, while those with national team obligations still wore smiles. Most of City’s players had achieved enough this season to proudly show off to their teammates in the national squads.
"And what about you two?" he asked.
"Some of the coaches are planning holidays, while others want to watch the World Cup in person. But since the matches are broadcast on TV, there’s no harm in combining it with a bit of vacation," O’Neill explained.
Richard then added, "If you want to watch the World Cup, go see Miss Heysen. The club will cover everything—from tickets to hotels and any other needs you might have."
O’Neill and Mourinho exchanged glances.
"Well, that certainly makes planning easier," Mourinho said.
Richard nodded, then glanced at his watch. "Alright—before the press conference, I need to tell you something," he said, his tone suddenly sharper as he looked at O’Neill and Mourinho with a serious expression.
Sensing the gravity in Richard’s voice, both men straightened, their own demeanor shifting.
Richard leaned forward. "I’ve been informed that several teams have already started making private approaches for our players. Marina told me just this morning."
The most threatening interest right now is coming from Serie A and LaLiga with Buffon, Pirlo and Zambrotta in particular.
He paused, letting that sink in before continuing. "Worst case, management will do everything to keep them, even if it means using the only leverage we have: making clubs pay massive transfer fees. But ideally, I want both of you to try and persuade them to stay—at least until next season."
O’Neill rubbed his chin, his brows furrowed. "The squad needs stability. If one key piece goes, it could start a chain reaction."
"Exactly. That’s why I’m telling you both now. The club will back you in every negotiation, but on the pitch, your words and trust matter more than contracts. If we want to keep this group together, it has to come from both of you first."
O’Neill sighed, feeling the weight of it. A headache already forming. He’d probably have to guarantee some players starting positions, build the system around them... maybe even make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.
"Whatever works—just keep them here," Richard said, letting out a short laugh, though there was no humor in it.