CHAPTER 278: ENTER ASIA EARLY?

The day Manchester City secured their hard-fought 2–0 victory over Nottingham Forest, the Premier League delivered drama elsewhere as well.

At Highbury, Arsenal and Chelsea played out a thrilling 3–3 draw in what many fans were already calling a potential classic. The match was a showcase of attacking football and individual brilliance, with both sides trading blows until the final whistle. The result left both London clubs frustrated but entertained their supporters in equal measure.

Meanwhile, up north at the Riverside Stadium, Middlesbrough put on a dominant performance, dismantling West Ham United 4–1. The home side controlled the tempo from the outset, with their front line showing clinical finishing against a surprisingly lackluster Hammers defense.

"Next fixture’s Middlesbrough, right?" Richard asked, glancing toward the tactical board as he flipped through a few notes.

It was the sixth round of the Premier League, and once again, Manchester City were set to play at Maine Road—this time against a well-drilled Middlesbrough side managed by Bryan Robson.

Robson’s tactical philosophy was unmistakably pragmatic. Last season, Middlesbrough had shown a preference for the 5-3-2 system. But this time, it was even more cautious: a flat 5-4-1, designed to sit deep, absorb pressure, and hit on the break. One forward up top—just enough to keep the center-backs honest—while the rest dropped into two rigid banks of defense.

"They’re dangerous on dead-ball situations. Especially these two," said Ramm Mylvaganam, tapping a pencil against the grainy board, highlighting two figures hastily circled in red marker.

Fabrizio Ravanelli and Juninho—the duo behind Middlesbrough’s recent goal-scoring parade.

First, they drew 3–3 at home against Liverpool. Then they thrashed West Ham United 4–1 at the Riverside Stadium. In the fixture before that, Middlesbrough’s high-scoring start to the season continued with a 4–0 win over Coventry City—both Ravanelli and Juninho netting twice.

"They’ve scored seven goals from set pieces and two from free kicks?"

This was the City routine now, part of a growing shift in club culture. Before every major match, before the motivational talks, before the press conferences, came this quiet ritual: the pre-preparation meeting.

’Let the footage speak first.’

Before the tactical instructions, before the team talks, the coaching staff gathered behind closed doors. No players. Just staff, screens, and stacks of footage.

A small room at the back of Maine Road. A portable board, a tray of black coffee and orange juice passed around. And a table covered in handwritten stats, manual scouting reports, clippings, and VHS cassettes lined up for review.

Now that Robertson’s suspension was over, he resumed his role as lead in these meetings.

O’Neill, half-distracted, sat near the back, sipping his morning tea and flipping through scouting printouts generated by Ramm’s scouting module.

Walford and Terry Gennoe returned to their usual posts—one scribbling match notes, the other highlighting player movement patterns from opposition reports.

After the meeting wrapped up, Richard rose from his seat, stretching slightly before turning his attention to the next match on the Olympic schedule—Group D’s continuation, where Nigeria was set to face Japan.

He leaned against the doorway, eyes fixed on the small monitor as the highlights began to roll.

Unexpectedly, it was Nigeria who asserted dominance this time.

They beat Japan convincingly, 2–0.

And right on the 90-minute mark, Okocha capped off Nigeria’s performance with a calmly taken penalty.

Watching how Japan played, Richard had to admit—regardless of the team’s overall performance, Hidetoshi Nakata had already cemented his place as the most promising Asian footballer of his generation.

Although the team as a whole failed to impress, Nakata’s individual displays stood out like a beacon. His composure on the ball, vision under pressure, and tactical awareness far exceeded that of his Asian peers.

Whether it was threading incisive passes through compact midfields or slipping between defenders with deceptive agility, his technique was crisp, his movement intelligent. And most importantly, he never shied away from responsibility—always showing for the ball, always looking to create.

"So... how is he?" Richard finally asked, breaking the silence in the room as everyone continued watching the footage of Nakata’s performance.

The limping O’Neill nodded. "Calm under pressure. Always scanning. You can tell he’s two or three passes ahead."

"Okocha is also very good," Mylvaganam added, eyes still on the screen. "The way he reads the game... that’s not something you can teach."

Richard smiled as he listened. He didn’t need to hear more—he had seen enough.

Over the next two days, Manchester City prepared relentlessly for their upcoming fixture—and when matchday arrived, it turned into a tactical siege.

City registered twenty-seven shots over the ninety minutes. Dominant in possession, fluid in their passing, and relentless in their pressing. Yet somehow, only one shot found the back of the net.

Middlesbrough, by contrast, failed to register a single shot on goal. Their possession barely crossed 30%, and for most of the match, they were pinned inside their own half—focused entirely on damage control rather than any meaningful offense.

As the final whistle blew, the scoreline read 1–0. A win, yes—but hardly a satisfying one.

From the stands, Richard watched the handshake between Robertson and Bryan Robson. The two managers exchanged polite, professional nods.

Richard exhaled slowly, a trace of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What a boring match," Miss Heysen muttered beside him, scribbling something into her notepad.

Indeed, it wasn’t pretty. But it was a win. And in this league, that was all that mattered.

In another match on the same day, Czech midfielder Patrik Berger stole the spotlight at Anfield, scoring twice as Liverpool thrashed Chelsea 5–1 in the league. It was a continuation of his blistering form, having also netted a brace in the previous weekend’s 3–0 victory over Leicester City.

Meanwhile, at Old Trafford, Norwegian striker Ole Gunnar Solskjær proved decisive for Manchester United, scoring both goals in a composed 2–0 win over Tottenham Hotspur.

"That’s it then," Richard said with satisfaction, clapping his hands as Manchester City wrapped up a hard-earned victory over Middlesbrough.

"Ah, yes—Richard, by the way..." Miss Heysen suddenly spoke up, as though she’d just remembered something important. She reached into her clipboard and pulled out a folded newspaper clipping. "I think you’ll want to see this."

Richard, taken aback, raised an eyebrow. He leaned forward and accepted the piece of newsprint with curiosity.

In bold letters was a headline about international football, but what caught his eye wasn’t the title—it was the image beside it.

A man with a wide grin, dressed in traditional Middle Eastern attire, stood in front of a London hotel, holding a Manchester City scarf above his head. The caption below read:

"I’m a lifelong Manchester City fan. And someday, I’d love to be part of the club’s future."

"..."

Richard stared at the photo for a moment. This person looked familiar.

"It’s Prince Alwaleed bin Talal," Miss Heysen said, introducing him. "Do you remember when Chairman Francis Lee tried to bring in new investors for the club? One of them was this Saudi billionaire, interested in making a £75 million investment."

"Ah, the one who requested to see the club’s accounts and was rejected by Francis?" Richard asked.

"Yes, that’s him."

Francis Lee had indeed intended to woo Prince Walid into investing in Manchester City. But when the prince asked to review the club’s books, Lee rejected the request because the accounts were tied to Lee’s own consortium.

After that, the City shareholders also tried to court Wigan chairman Dave Whelan as a potential investor. However, City’s precarious position—especially being without a manager at the time—failed to convince Whelan to commit.

Only Richard understood the true meaning behind Prince Alwaleed’s public comments. The prince was interested in City and was testing the waters. By commenting publicly, he could gauge reactions from fans, shareholders, and the club’s board, helping him understand whether his bid or investment would be welcomed or not.

He was wrong, though. City didn’t really have a board—only Richard Maddox’s decisions mattered.

"Ignore it then," Richard said as he decided to disregard the prince’s comment.

He trusted his own control of the club and wasn’t going to let external noise distract him. After all, power at City rested firmly in his hands—not in public opinions or speculative bids.

Two days later, the third match of Group D finally ended with Japan beating Hungary 3–2, showing great fighting spirit but ultimately not enough to advance beyond the group stage.

Although Japan did not progress past the group stage, the tournament was significant for the development of Japanese football. It was a landmark result that helped fuel the growth of the sport in Japan.

Richard paused thoughtfully for a moment before picking up his phone to call Marina Granovskaia, who was currently busy investigating South American prospects for City’s feeder club.

"Marina, what do you think about Japan and South Korea?"