Football Dynasty

Chapter 122: Totally Done with the Physios

Richard was happy that his investment in United States had started to show success, but he didn’t expect to be suddenly hit with two pieces of bad news.

Rivaldo had signed a verbal agreement with PSV.

Patrick Vieira had decided to accept AC Milan’s offer.

"Damn you, John!!!"

Before coming to the United States for business, Richard had already told John to handle the issue with O’Neill, who was requesting another midfielder.

Naturally, Richard had recommended Patrick Vieira—the one he trusted and knew well. He never expected Vieira’s mother to suddenly call him about her son wanting to join AC Milan.

If things turn out this way, then Vieira will follow his original timeline—joining AC Milan before eventually moving to Arsenal.

In Italy, he’ll end up making only five first-team appearances for the club. So, wouldn’t it be better for him to come to Man City instead of wasting a year drifting aimlessly at AC Milan?

Unfortunately, Vieira doesn’t know any of this. And with a smile, he gladly accepts AC Milan’s offer.

And then about Rivaldo, how could he suddenly reach a verbal agreement with PSV out of nowhere?

The fact that he still has half a year left on his contract means that City must have opened the door to PSV. And who else could have opened that door if not the current, beloved general manager of Manchester City?

Richard paused for a moment before dialing Roman Abramovich.

"Richard?"

"Mr. Abramovich, I apologize for disturbing you at this moment, but are you heading to London today?"

"I am. What’s going on?"

Richard cleared his throat. "Mr. Abramovich, could you do me a favor? Is it possible for me to hitch a ride with you to London? I have an urgent situation here."

"We’re leaving in an hour."

"The sooner, the better," Richard replied.

"Then come to Los Angeles International Airport. I’ll send Marina to guide you through the terminal."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Abramovich."

"No worries."

After hanging up the phone, Richard sighed in relief. He glanced at Adam Lewis. "What about you? Are you coming with me?"

Lewis shook his head. "De Marco’s thesis paper will be reviewed next week, so I’ll stay to oversee that."

Richard nodded, not pressing him further.

After parting ways with Lewis, Richard gathered his things and headed down to the hotel lobby, where he found Marina already waiting for him.

The limousine sped down the long, straight road, eventually arriving at the Los Angeles International Airport, located south of the city. As one of the top-ranked hub airports in the United States, it was bustling with aircraft from all over the world, crowding the vast tarmac.

Among the large, bulky commercial airliners, a sleek white Gulfstream IV business jet stood out, its body gleaming under the sunlight.

The black limousine carrying Seok-won and Landon glided to a stop next to the elegant jet. A white driver in a suit opened the door, and the two men stepped out. As the driver retrieved their luggage, they climbed the steps into the jet, where a tall, slender flight attendant greeted them with a bright smile.

"Welcome aboard."

Richard nodded slightly in response to her greeting and took a quick look around the cabin.

The interior was spacious and luxurious—like a penthouse in the sky. Adorned with the finest materials, the cabin featured plush leather seats, polished wood accents, thick carpeting, and softly glowing wall panels that bathed the space in warm light.

As he stepped further in and settled into one of the wide leather seats, facing the jet’s owner, Roman Abramovich, along with Alexander Abramov and Aleksandr Frolov.

"This is really impressive," Richard remarked as he looked around, taking in the opulence.

"Is this your first time?" Abramovich asked, glancing over at him.

"I’ve chartered a few times before, and the rest was just first class," Richard replied honestly.

"First class is nice," Frolov said with a chuckle, "but compared to this, it’s like the difference between a deluxe room and a presidential suite."

"Indeed it is," Abramovich agreed, laughing.

Richard leaned back in the seat, letting himself relax. "Flying is always such a hassle, but I could get used to this. Shame I’m only hitching a ride this one time."

"You could easily afford one of these," Abramov remarked. "Why not buy one?"

Richard’s mouth twitched into a small smirk. The idea intrigued him, so he turned to Abramovich. "How much does one of these cost?"

"The price varies depending on how it’s outfitted," Abramovich replied smoothly, "but this model goes for around $25 million."

Well, it’s not exactly cheap, but it’s not out of reach either," Richard mused.

Just wait until all his recent investments pay off—then he could easily afford a jet of his own, maybe even something bigger than this one.

Just then, the flight attendant approached with their luggage. "We’ll be taking off shortly, so please fasten your seatbelts."

As they buckled up, she smiled kindly and asked, "Is there anything you’d like?"

"We have Macallan 25-year and Balblair 17-year," Abramovich added, turning to Richard. "What about you?"

"Orange juice, please."

"As always, huh?" he smirked, then nodded toward the flight attendant.

The jet left the tarmac, rolling along the long taxiway until it reached the end of the open runway and came to a stop.

[Good afternoon, this is your captain speaking. I’d like to extend a warm welcome to our VIP guests on board. We will be departing from Los Angeles shortly, en route to London Heathrow Airport. The estimated flight time is 10 hours and 20 minutes. We wish you a safe and pleasant journey.]

After the captain’s announcement, the jet received clearance from the control tower. The engines roared to life, and the aircraft accelerated down the long runway before taking off and soaring into the sky, disappearing into the white clouds.

Richard spent one day in London, spending time reuniting with his father and mother before he drove his Porsche the next day towards Maine Road stadium.

Extraordinary General Meeting!

The first thing he did upon arriving in Manchester.

Miss Heysen, as the club secretary, naturally informed everyone involved—from the general manager and coaches to the physios and senior non-football management staff.

The atmosphere was very serious in the meeting room. After all, the current City team was still languishing in mid-table in the Second Division, plagued by injuries.

"Thank you all for being here in full. I also appreciate your contributions while I was away in the United States. Now, let’s begin."

First, the injury crisis currently surrounding Man City.

Richard sat at the head of the table, reviewing the medical reports with a furrowed brow.

"Is it really this serious? Five players recommended for rest?" he muttered, rubbing his temples.

He glanced up at the assistant head physio, his expression sharp.

"Isn’t that a bit much? The players look fine. Sure, the schedule’s been tighter lately, but each of them needing a full month off? That’s four league matches lost!"

"Sir, I understand your concern, but—"

Richard held up a hand, cutting him off.

"Let’s talk about Paul Lake. Can he still play or not?"

The physio team exchanged uncertain glances, clearly reluctant to speak. Richard sighed—he already sensed the answer. He turned toward the assistant head.

"Wasn’t it your team that cleared him to play? And now, one tackle and he’s out again? No—he was given clearance even during Alan Ball’s time, wasn’t he? If he’d focused on recovery instead of being pushed to play, none of this would’ve happened. Am I wrong?"

"..."

"And where is the head physio? Why are you the one standing here in his place?"

"..."

"No answer? Fine. Let me ask you this instead." Richard cleared his throat. "I’m not a medical professional, but I’ve taken the time to educate myself on this field. Correct me if I’m wrong."

"Doctors can often identify an athlete’s sport by the nature of their injuries. For instance, a snooker player may have an unbendable spine due to prolonged upright bending, divers often experience retinal issues, runners face stress fractures, and football players frequently experience tendinitis. If someone presents symptoms related to most of these ailments, they’re likely a football player, am I right?"

Everyone’s eyes widened slightly after a moment of silence.

Richard calmly asked, "With so many daunting injuries currently plaguing City, my question is simple: can our medical department handle these injuries? Can we provide our players with the best medical treatment, both now and in the future? Can you guarantee that?"

"..." _{𝓷ℴ𝓋𝓅𝓊𝒷.𝒸𝓸𝓶}

"Still no answer?"

Richard leaned back in his seat, exhausted by the situation. He didn’t have the energy to ask any more questions.

"Alright, then."

After that, he began with finance, marketing, media communication, and even stadium & matchday operations.

CLAP!

"Now, everyone, listen to me," he clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. "I’m making this clear—starting today, we’re doing things differently."

As the sole owner of Manchester City, Richard began laying down new directives, ready to reshape the club according to his vision.

"Centralized control from the top," he emphasized. "Every department must align under a unified vision. Every decision—whether in football or non-football operations—will go through a centralized leadership team that reports directly to me."

He definitely rejected the old-fashioned conservatism often found in English clubs. He had no interest in clinging to outdated traditions.

"Now, as for the current physio team, Mr..."

What he needed were top-tier professionals to fill key non-football roles—finance, marketing, legal, operations—people with strong corporate backgrounds who shared his ambition for long-term sustainability and global reach.

He didn’t just want success on the pitch—he wanted to build a lasting institution. To do that, he looked to the model used by top European clubs in the years to come, especially with the unique advantage of knowing how the future would unfold.

Starting with the physios, Richard had finally had enough—both with their mishandling of Paul Lake and the injury crisis currently plaguing the club.

"So, for every person I just mentioned, I expect you to pack your things before this weekend and prepare to leave the premises. We will ensure that you receive your severance pay, which will be processed according to company policy. Please understand that this decision is final, and your departure will be handled with respect and professionalism. A member of the HR team will assist you with any questions or details related to the process."

"Wait sir, you definitely can’t—"

"Oh, I definitely can. There’s clear evidence of gross negligence and repeated failure—especially in how you mishandled one of our players, not to mention the increasing number of injuries under your care. So, personally, thank you for your service over the past years. Your contractual severance package may offer more than the standard, and it will be processed accordingly."

Richard’s words left everyone momentarily speechless.

After finishing all the non-sport-related matters, Richard finally turned his gaze toward John.

"Follow me."