NOVPUB
Chapter 134: Mismanagement Case
Richard opened his eyes to the familiar ceiling of the place he was staying in Manchester.
Slowly, he got up and began his usual morning routine—nothing special, just the normal things.
No work.
No football.
After locking his room door, he took a deep breath. Yesterday, around the 60th minute of the match, something bad had happened. Very bad.
Ronaldo had collapsed.
He had suffered a sudden seizure right in the middle of the match and had to be carried off on a stretcher.
Without wasting a second, Richard jumped into his Porsche and sped off toward Wythenshawe Hospital—one of the busiest and most highly-rated hospitals in North West Manchester, and the one Manchester City currently collaborated with.
Expensive, yes. But worth every penny.
Eighteen-year-old Ronaldo simply couldn’t handle the pressure of Old Trafford.
Normally, his ability to stay calm under pressure was one of his greatest assets—he was the kind of player who could score crucial goals when it mattered most. But this time, perhaps because he was too excited—or because the burden felt too heavy when City collapsed just before the second half began—the overwhelming pressure finally got to him.
As Richard drove, memories flooded his mind—particularly that infamous moment during the 1998 World Cup Final against France, when Ronaldo suffered a convulsive fit just hours before kickoff.
Despite being included in the starting lineup, he looked visibly off his game and was unable to make an impact. Brazil lost the match 3–0, and it was later revealed that Ronaldo had suffered a seizure caused by pressure and stress.
The incident remains one of the most memorable moments in World Cup history and one of football’s greatest mysteries. Richard couldn’t help but remember how the exact same scene seemed to have happened just yesterday.
’Butterfly effect?’ Richard thought to himself.
The problem was that, according to the media after the World Cup, Ronaldo had experienced ’flailing arms’ and whole-body convulsions before the match. This time, however, the collapse happened in the middle of the match.
After parking his car at Wythenshawe Hospital, Richard hurried inside. He pressed the elevator button and went up to the fifth floor, heading straight to the room where Ronaldo was recovering.
It was still too early for regular visiting hours, but Richard didn’t care. He knocked softly on the door, then pushed it open.
Inside, he saw Ronaldo sitting on the hospital bed, staring blankly at the wall — a young man lost in his own despair. His eyes were hollow, filled with confusion and shame. It took a moment before he even noticed Richard entering.
When he finally snapped back to reality, he looked genuinely startled.
"What’s the matter?" Richard joked lightly, trying to break the heavy atmosphere. "Surprised your boss’s boss came to check on you?"
Only after hearing Richard’s voice did Ronaldo truly seem to wake up. He scrambled to sit up straighter and stammered, "B-Boss— no, Sir!"
Richard chuckled and waved his hand dismissively as he took a seat beside the bed. "Just call me Richard. Or Mr. Richard, or Chairman as usual, or whatever you prefer."
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice into something more gentle.
"How are you feeling?"
Ronaldo hesitated. His fingers gripped the sheets tightly, and for a long moment, he couldn’t find the words. Finally, he whispered, "I... I let everyone down, didn’t I?"
Richard sighed softly, "No, you didn’t."
"But... the match—I..." Ronaldo’s voice cracked, shame flooding every word. His young face twisted in self-blame.
Richard shook his head. "You’re not a machine. You’re human. What happened wasn’t weakness—it was pressure, stress. And that’s okay."
Ronaldo’s still jaw clenched in frustration.
"I’m supposed to be strong. I’m supposed to carry the team," Ronaldo muttered, his voice heavy with self-doubt.
"No, you’re not!" Richard instantly became serious. "Football is always about teamwork. No one expects you to carry the weight alone. You’ve got Roberto Carlos and Cafu beside you, Solskjær up front, Campbell, Gallas, and Ferdinand in the back to cover you. You’re not alone in this."
Richard paused for a moment, making sure Ronaldo was listening. "And do you remember what I told you? That I’ll always back you up?"
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Outside, the world seemed a million miles away, irrelevant.
"You’re still young. Setbacks like this are part of the journey," Richard said quietly. "Do you think Eric Cantona or Roy Keane never faced moments like this? Do you think even the legends walked their paths without stumbling?"
"..."
Of course, it wasn’t easy to convince the young man.
Draws, losses, own goals, injuries, goal droughts — these are all part of a striker’s journey. But collapsing in the middle of a match? And during a Manchester Derby, with all eyes on him, not just in England, but across the Europe?
That almost drove him crazy!
While the room remained silent, Richard, who had been studying the man in front of him, suddenly noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A newspaper lay beside him, forgotten on the bed.
His eye twitched. He could barely believe it. He picked it up and opened it, his eyes scanning the headline.
The Mirror: "City CRUSHED by United — 5-0 Nightmare! Second Division Team Meets Footballing Reality."
The Guardian: "Manchester United Dominates in Derby Rout, City on the Brink of Crisis."
’5-0...’ Richard thought to himself, the weight of the score heavy on his mind.
He left Old Trafford early. The moment he saw Ronaldo collapse, he didn’t hesitate—he stood up and followed. He was there through the chaos, all the way to the hospital. This wasn’t just a player on the pitch; this was an asset worth tens of millions.
And Richard had no intention of letting his treasure crumble before its value reached its peak.
His brow furrowed deeper as he read the newspaper.
The Sun: "City’s Young Prodigy or a Publicity Stunt? Ronaldo’s Health Crisis Exposed!"
It continued, "Third-tier Manchester City’s so-called ’wonder boy’, Ronaldo, was thrown into the cauldron mere hours after suffering a seizure, raising serious questions about his management team’s priorities. A scene so distressing, it would make any sane person question why City allowed him to take the field while visibly unwell. Was this a tragic misjudgment? Or was it simply another case of a club more obsessed with their own image than their players’ well-being?"
’The Sun again? Why does it feel like they’re intentionally targeting City?’ Richard muttered, growing increasingly confused.
Sure enough, once again, The Sun’s opening remark only made Ronaldo’s inclusion in the team all the more baffling — and, of course, conspiracy theories quickly abounded.
"Was the pressure of the derby too much for this ’future star’?"
"An embarrassing display on the pitch raises the question..."
"How much longer can this circus of mismanagement continue before someone steps in to protect their athletes?"
"A nation notorious for its deifying of individual players went into a predictable meltdown; this was not supposed to happen."
What gave Richard a headache were the accusations leveled at the CBF (Brazilian Football Confederation), who — based on little more than speculation — were assumed City to have forced the young man to play.
"Madness," one Brazilian critic sneered in a scathing broadcast. "Richard Maddox gutted City’s physio department, and now it’s come back to haunt him. Our Brazilian starlet was thrown onto the pitch without proper medical clearance—forced to perform when he should’ve been recovering."
Richard frowned at this. No wonder Ronaldo was downcast; even the CBF had been alerted. Not only him, but City was also in a passive situation if they didn’t take action. If governing bodies from other nations expressed their dissatisfaction with City, there was a higher likelihood that the case could even escalate to a congressional level.
"Just focus on your recovery, don’t worry. Like I said, trust me, alright? I will handle this for you, and you will prove all of them wrong on the pitch, alright?"
Ronaldo nodded gratefully at this, but still couldn’t help feeling uneasy in his heart. After all, this was related to his career. He groaned softly as he looked toward his phone, which he had purposely turned off. He guessed that, as soon as it was active again, he would be bombarded with messages and missed calls.
For the next few days, Richard was consumed by the "mismanagement issue" that had rocked City, leaving him unable to attend their matches at the stadium. However, he stayed on top of the news, keeping track of the internal updates.
If he had to sum it up, he’d say the Blues had hit the self-destruct button, losing 2-1 at home to Wycombe and effectively ruling out any chance of automatic promotion and City’s place in the play-offs was confirmed as they drew 2-2 at Bristol Rovers.
February and early March 1995 were a rough stretch for City
Brutally knocked out by Manchester United in the FA Cup, followed by a comeback loss to Crystal Palace in the League Cup. Now, a loss and a draw have led to the following change in positions
Birmingham City - 64 Points (Promotion to the First Division)
Brentford - 60 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)
Bristol Rovers - 57 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)
Blackpool - 53 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)
Manchester City - 50 Points (Qualification for Play-offs)
Wycombe Wanderers - 49 Points
The points gap between Manchester City and Wycombe had narrowed to just one, piling the pressure on O’Neill and his squad.
The sting ran deeper than just league standings—this was personal. O’Neill had left Wycombe earlier in the season to join City, and if Wycombe finished above them and secured promotion while City fell short, the humiliation would be impossible to ignore. The press would have a field day, and O’Neill knew it.
To make matters worse, tensions within the club were rising. Rumors were flying, and finger-pointing had begun. Accusations were being tossed around, many laced with bias, with no clear facts to anchor them—only speculation and suspicion.
Standing across from O’Neill in the dimly lit office, Richard finally broke the silence.
"Focus on promotion. No excuses. No distractions. I expect City to be in the First Division next season."
