Football Dynasty

Chapter 124: John Terry

With a three-match winning streak, the team’s morale surged as they triumphed over Cambridge United, York City, and Chester City, followed by a draw in the League Cup against Newcastle United!

With this result, the first-team players could finally enjoy a well-deserved three-day break in peace.

Richard decided not to visit the first-team squad and instead headed over to the youth team, or what they still called City’s A and B teams.

Today was the FA Youth Cup match, and Richard took out his phone to call Willie McStay, the current coach of Manchester City’s A team.

He informed him that he wanted to take a closer look at the development of a few specific players.

Paul Robinson, John Terry, Rio Ferdinand, and William Gallas—these were the only players he had personally recruited for City’s academy since taking over the club.

Twenty minutes later, he stood alone on the almost empty Maine Road.

It seemed the match had already been underway for some time, and Richard couldn’t help but wonder how the team was performing. _{𝚗o𝚟pub.𝚌𝚘𝚖}

When the club owner appeared on the sidelines, the first to take notice were Willie McStay and O’Neill, who was also keeping an eye on potential players for promotion. Soon, both of them approached to greet Richard.

"Mr. Richard, what brings you here?" O’Neill asked, extending his hand in greeting.

"I’ve come to see if the youth team has any outstanding players," Richard replied with a polite smile, shaking his hand and then McStay’s before taking a seat beside them.

Both McStay and O’Neill exchanged a glance but tacitly agreed not to say anything. After all, the current owner just wanted to watch and observe, not intervene with anything.

"What about you, Martin? I thought you were supposed to be overseeing the first-team training?"

O’Neill gave a bitter smile. "It’s about Ian. After the incident with the Wimbledon player in the last match, he’s refused to play."

"What do you mean, refused?"

O’Neill explained, and the pieces quickly fell into place—it was about the red card in that match.

"Do you know why he’s really refusing to play?" Richard asked quietly.

O’Neill let out a sigh. "Because we didn’t appeal the ban. He thinks the club didn’t stand by him, and he’s frustrated with how we handled the situation."

"But he also didn’t tell the club, did he?" Richard pointed out, highlighting the source of the problem.

It was indeed a racism issue—just as he had suspected. But don’t be too quick to blame the club.

The reason City didn’t appeal the ban wasn’t because they didn’t want to, but because Ian Cox kept everything to himself. By the time the truth came out, it was already too late.

Ian had already served his one-match ban, which meant that even if City appealed, they were almost certain to lose. As a result, the club’s legal solicitor, Frank Shepherd, advised against proceeding—an opinion that John, who was in charge at the time, chose to follow.

Racism in football was unfortunately prevalent, both on and off the pitch. Players often faced racial abuse from fans, and incidents like this were all too common.

In many cases, players felt that their clubs weren’t doing enough to support them when such situations arose, leaving them feeling isolated and unsupported. For example, in 1993, the infamous "racist chants" incident involving John Barnes saw not only the opposing team’s fans but even some of his own teammates—and even the tea lady!

That’s why, in the current era, the victim had no outlet to express themselves—very different from the future, where even the smallest incident could spark attention on social media. For now, they chose to stay silent, likely doubting the club’s stance. If only Cox had known the club would support him, things might never have reached this point

"Since he didn’t tell us, there’s nothing we can do," Richard said with a slow nod, finally understanding the heart of the issue—but said nothing more.

If he still didn’t want to play for the next match, he wouldn’t mind putting him on the transfer list. It would just be a waste of money paying his salary.

Back to the match again.

No one could recognize Richard—probably just a few people did—but still, everyone on the pitch was neither blind nor a fool, especially current City players.

When they saw O’Neill’s sudden appearance on the sidelines, they knew this was a good opportunity to make an impression.

This included Ferdinand, Gallas, Terry, Robinson, and also all their teammates.

They were all working hard to perform well, each determined not to fall behind. The only problem is... you know those who can’t resist the urge to show off.

It’s a simple and unpredictable mindset from the young players. The more they try to dazzle, the tighter they grip the ball, and the longer they hold on, the more all eyes are on them!

The balance was broken the moment players began forcing risky passes, dribbling aimlessly, and holding onto the ball for too long—gradually eroding City’s statistical edge.

Not that it mattered.

The scoreboard on the sidelines showed the match score so far: 1-0. The home team, Manchester City A, was ahead of the visiting team, York City youth.

Before Richard knew it, he was already scribbling notes during the match—a small habit he had maintained for a long time.

Much like writing official reports on upcoming opponents, player strengths and weaknesses, and other tactical observations, note-taking had become second nature to him. He had developed the habit during his previous occupation as a scout, long before becoming a football agent.

He was especially focused on gathering information about upcoming opponents and individual players—identifying strengths and weaknesses, analyzing how teams played with and without the ball, studying set-piece diagrams, and observing how opponents reacted under pressure.

For him, evaluating a player’s potential required fair and comprehensive judgment. All of this informed his approach to team selection and match strategy—or didn’t, depending on the circumstances.

This became even more crucial when he already knew that a player was destined to become a star.

Timing was everything.

Sometimes, you couldn’t tell if external factors were affecting a player’s performance—making them look poor when they actually weren’t. Just like a player who seemed unimpressive early on but suddenly blossomed after a transfer—leaving their former club to watch in regret.

That was exactly what he wanted to avoid.

So, his best approach for now was to rely on his old-school scouting methods: using his future knowledge as an advantage, applying stats where appropriate, but above all, trusting the evidence of his own eyes.

Just like the current situation—an anomaly—especially the most noticeable one: John Terry

Richard frowned and turned to McStay, unable to help but ask, "Number thirty—is that John Terry?"

McStay was caught off guard for a moment, but quickly glanced over and nodded, as he had expected.

"That’s John Terry, right. He just joined, and to be honest, if we weren’t so short on players right now, I wouldn’t have played him."

His performance had been poor. Very poor.

McStay deeply regretted the decision. If they had another player who could fill in at midfield, things would have been different. But with the squad stretched thin and needing rotation, he had no choice but to play him in this match against a lower-tier team.

"During shooting practice, even with an open goal, he couldn’t score a single goal out of ten attempts. And when it came to driving the ball into the net, he had no clue. I had to teach him. But... damn, this kid’s attitude is awful. He refuses to listen and always wants to do things his own way. If it weren’t for the rotation, he wouldn’t even be in the squad today," McStay briefed Richard.

"When was he brought on?"

"He’s in the starting lineup."

"Do you have his current statistics?" Richard asked.

McStay quickly called the assistant, who had just walked away, and asked for the details. After a quick check, he shook his head. "Nearly forty minutes—no shots, no assists, no interceptions, no tackles, no chances created, not even a foul... nothing whatsoever."

Zero.

Absolutely zero?!

Richard frowned deeper, his concern growing. ’Even if you’re not playing in your natural position, it’s not supposed to be this bad... right?’

He kept watching, more intently now—until something glaringly obvious caught his eye.

"Wait... why is he so small?" Richard said, standing up and walking toward the edge of the pitch to make sure his eyesight wasn’t playing tricks on him.

But no—nothing had changed.

Out of all 22 players on the field, why was Terry, essentially, the smallest one out there?

He was stunned. Turning toward McStay, he couldn’t help but ask, "Is there something wrong with him? Why is he so small? Is he... malnourished or something?"

It reminded him a bit of Rivaldo—but that couldn’t be right. He’d never heard of Terry having that kind of issue.

If there was something glaringly off, it wasn’t on the pitch... it was off the pitch. Cough—you know... the kind of "team bonding" Terry got a bit too famous for later on.

Also...

"And what the heck is he even doing right now?" he couldn’t help but ask, his eyes never leaving the field.

He frowned as he watched John Terry, who was clearly struggling to grasp the game.