CHAPTER 345: MEETING WITH THE EARL

As November draws to a close, Manchester City remain top of the Premier League, with Leicester City, Manchester United, and Chelsea all mounting a strong challenge. Meanwhile, Arsenal’s title hopes appear to be fading as they now sit in fifth place, seven points behind the leaders.

Earlier in the month, Arsenal cut into Manchester United’s lead in the title race with a thrilling 3–2 win at Highbury. Teddy Sheringham scored twice for United, but Nicolas Anelka netted his first goal for the Gunners to help secure the victory.

In the following fixture, Manchester United bounced back from that defeat by returning to London and earning an emphatic 5–2 away win over Wimbledon. Arsenal, on the other hand, suffered a shock 2–0 defeat to struggling Sheffield Wednesday, a result that further dented their momentum.

Leicester City, meanwhile, endured back-to-back defeats, allowing Chelsea to leapfrog them into second place in the table.

Manchester City, on the other hand, continued their winning streak with ease, brushing aside their opponents and maintaining a firm grip on the top spot.

In the first fixture of November, Manchester City’s first opponent was Chelsea, with the match taking place away from home.

Time for revenge.

After losing to Chelsea in last season’s FA Cup final, Maine Road was ready to erupt.

As City unleashed wave after wave of attacks, bombarding Chelsea’s goal with relentless shots, the home crowd burst into song:

"Oh Chelsea, Chelsea, you’ve lost your way out of West London! You’re bragging about bringing in the Footballer of the Year—how enviable! Surely the gentlemanly crowd at Stamford Bridge has grown, right? They come with supermodels and little stars—how jealous we must be!Unbuckle your belts and let loose; let’s have fun together!" 🎵 🎶

Fewer than two thousand Chelsea loyalists huddled together in a corner of Maine Road, their expressions a mixture of sorrow and frustration as they listened to the mockery echoing from the City faithful. Their fists clenched, their hearts quietly bleeding.

In truth, the City fans’ taunts weren’t entirely unfair—they hit painfully close to reality.

In the UK, football uniquely straddles both ends of the social ladder; it is both the sport of the masses and a playground for the elite. Chelsea’s fanbase originally came from working-class roots. But as property prices in West London soared, many of those supporters were forced to "leave home," migrating further south.

Today, the areas surrounding Stamford Bridge are largely home to the wealthy—stockbrokers and executives in tailored suits. To immerse themselves in British culture—particularly in the cosmopolitan city of London—many wealthy individuals now bring supermodel girlfriends to matches at Stamford Bridge as part of their lifestyle. Some even conduct business deals from their seats, elevating the prestige of the crowd while alienating traditional fans.

It mirrors how Manchester United’s rampant commercialization draws criticism from more traditional football supporters. Now, at Maine Road?

Nothing.

Just silence—except for the few who truly loved the club. Only those devoted souls were willing to travel all the way to Manchester to witness it in person.

Back on the pitch, Manchester City had already killed the game by halftime.

Under relentless pressure, Chelsea conceded their first goal in the 18th minute when Zidane stormed into the penalty area and blasted a powerful shot past the keeper to open the scoring.

Over the next half hour, Shevchenko added two more goals, making it 3–0 by the break.

Every Cityzen inside Maine Road was beaming with excitement. They thrived in these moments of dominance, especially at home.

The home advantage during this era was undeniable. City imposed suffocating pressure on every visiting side and consistently delivered electrifying performances in front of their fans.

As the players made their way off the pitch toward the locker rooms, Mourinho glanced at the Chelsea players. Most already looked beaten.

"They’re done for," he muttered to himself. In his eyes, Chelsea no longer deserved to be considered among the league’s elite. There were stronger teams now—and Chelsea wasn’t one of them.

In the second half, Chelsea remained lifeless, while City played with growing confidence and freedom. Substitute Trezeguet, trusted by manager O’Neill, came on and scored twice—capping off a ruthless 5–0 demolition.

Chelsea owner Ken Bates, humiliated and seething with rage, suddenly stood up from his seat in the director’s box and shouted, "Bastard!" before storming out of Maine Road in a fury.

What he failed to realize was that the director’s box at Maine Road wasn’t isolated like the VIP section at Stamford Bridge. His outburst—and the furious look on his face—was clearly captured on live television for all to witness.

"Hurry, hurry! Get the camera on him!" an excited member of the media yelled, pointing frantically. The cameraman didn’t hesitate, quickly zooming in to capture Bates’s livid expression in full high definition—an image that would soon be plastered across football shows and tabloid front pages by morning.

Sure enough, Richard hadn’t been wrong.

By the following morning, every major publication prominently featured Ken Bates’s explosive outburst.

After all, what could be more entertaining than watching a rich man completely lose his cool?

The newspapers were filled with mockery aimed at Bates—an image in stark contrast to the sycophantic praise being heaped on Manchester City. Journalists sang the team’s accolades with near-religious devotion. Some of the accompanying photos were striking: Trezeguet sprinting down the sideline after scoring, set against a dazzling storm of flashing lights and roaring fans.

Richard sipped his orange juice as he flipped through the pages, scanning article after article. His interest quickly faded. He let out a tired sigh and rubbed his forehead.

"Fleet Street, I’m kneeling to you," he muttered sarcastically.

The season was far from over. And to be honest, what Richard wanted more than anything for his Manchester City side was a reality check.

He wished the papers would inject some sarcasm, some criticism—something to reignite the team’s competitive fire. Instead, they were being praised into a stupor, floating on clouds, blissfully unaware of how far and how fast they’d fall when the crash inevitably came.

But that was the nature of Fleet Street. When you’re flying high, they’ll lift you even higher. But the moment you falter, they’ll drag you down and spit on you for good measure.

There was no denying it: once a player begins to shine in England, the country’s media machine knows how to turn them into stars. The British press is unmatched in Europe. With London as a media hub and English as a global language, the power and reach of British football coverage far outweigh that of Italy, Spain, Germany, or France.

It was no wonder the Premier League could lure overhyped superstars and sell its spectacle worldwide at lightning speed later. The marketing engine was already built—it just needed someone to switch it on.

Richard tossed the newspaper aside, no longer interested in the media’s endless cycle of sensationalism.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The sharp knock on the door broke the quiet hum of the office.

The guest he had been waiting for had finally arrived at Maine Road.

The door creaked open slightly, and Miss Heysen peeked in. Noticing that Richard was ready, she gave a polite nod and stepped aside, allowing the guest to enter.

"Sir... ah—no, Charles. Welcome to Maine Road."

Charles extended a gloved hand.

"Glad to be here," he said with a subtle smile.

By the time the small talk was over, they got straight to the point.

"Richard, thank you for your help returning the gowns."

"It’s the least I could do. Truly, you and Princess Diana have set an example for all of us through your actions."

Throughout his long career as a member of the royal family, Earl Spencer had always been deeply committed to charitable work—though not as prominently or publicly as he would become in the 2000s and 2010s.

He has established more than a dozen charitable organizations—both through formal foundations and personal initiatives—that raise significant funds each year to support a wide range of causes, including education, environmental protection, infrastructure development, elderly care, and services for people with disabilities.

Most notably, he has been the principal supporter of The Diana Award, the only charity to bear Diana’s name. He regularly hosts the Legacy Award ceremonies at Althorp House, celebrating young people from around the world whose compassion and courage reflect Diana’s humanitarian spirit.

"But Richard..." Earl Spencer paused for a moment, then continued, "I’m sorry to ask this, but—why are you interested in the three gas tanks?"

"Huh?" Richard was momentarily thrown off by the question.

But Earl Spencer didn’t seem to notice his confusion. He went on, "I’ve heard that King’s Cross is about to undergo a large-scale transformation. There are still many Victorian-era buildings in that area. I believe that applying a neoclassical design during the redevelopment could set a model for future urban restoration projects. I also heard the expansion of St. Pancras International is nearly complete, but I wasn’t aware that the broader King’s Cross renovation had already been greenlit." He stopped, eyeing Richard curiously.

"Did you perhaps receive the information ahead of time?"

"..."