Football Dynasty

Chapter 148: Captain’s Departure

"Phew..."

Richard exhaled as he breathed in the cool night air before turning to O’Neill.

"Let’s chat while we walk," he said, giving the other man a pat on the shoulder.

O’Neill didn’t move. He pointed first to the north, then to the south, before asking, "Which way?"

Richard raised his head and looked at the path, covered with fallen, withered leaves. "Let’s just take a casual walk along this path."

During the summertime, this path would always be sheltered by thick trees, preventing the sky from being seen.

Richard then turned toward O’Neill. "Martin, we’ve had a great rapport this season, and I’m confident we’ll continue to do well next season—and in the future.

Now he brought up the issue.

O’Neill hesitated. To be honest, since yesterday, and even now, he had been pondering the uncertainties of his future—especially regarding the current problem with the FA referee. He had to admit, he didn’t know what to do.

"Prepare yourself, Martin," Richard said as he stopped in his tracks and looked at Martin O’Neill.

"Prepare myself for what?" O’Neill’s heart skipped a beat.

Looking at his innocent face, Richard smiled. "Do you need me to spell everything out for you?" he asked before continuing, "We don’t know what the FA’s intention is, but if they decide to make an example of you and ban you for a long time, then even I can’t do anything about it."

"...But can you tell me roughly how long my punishment will be?"

"I can’t. Because even I don’t know yet. However..." Richard raised his head and looked at the sky before continuing, "I stand with you today, and always. You made a mistake... Your apology was sincere... and your punishment is clearly too severe. We all know that."

After the match against Rotherham, O’Neill apologized for his actions, saying, "I should not have done it. Maybe we do things that are not right. I’m sorry." He also wrote a letter to the match officials to express his remorse.

"Let’s hope it’s not the worst."

O’Neill’s face was grave. It was harsh, but it made sense. In the end, he resigned himself to accepting whatever would happen.

"Alright, alright. I get it," Richard said, shrugging before deciding to move past the issue.

"Oh, I forgot. There’s still one more thing. Perhaps I should let you know in advance," Richard suddenly added.

From Richard’s tone, O’Neill could tell that something wasn’t right. He looked at Richard and waited quietly for him to finish his sentence.

"You might have to re-select a new captain, Martin."

"What?" Now he understood why Richard had been hesitant. "Sol is leaving the team?!"

Richard nodded his head.

This news left O’Neill in complete shock. "How did it come to this?" he muttered to himself.

Campbell had essentially been his anchor at the back, the one who led the defense and physically suppressed the opposition’s strikers.

"No matter what happens, next season Manchester City will only be playing in the First Division. We can’t compete with Premier League teams to attract players. You know that they tend to be more attractive to young players," he explained, without any intention of shirking responsibility as he had promised to keep Campbell but failed.

"Which team?"

"Huh?"

"Which team is Campbell going to?"

"Tottenham Hotspur."

O’Neill nodded, resigned to his fate. "Aside from him, who else is leaving?"

Richard looked at O’Neill with a face full of shock. "How did you know there were other players transferring out? You’re right. Shaun Goater will also be going to Tottenham with Campbell."

"How much did Tottenham pay for the two of them?"

"Eight million."

"Which one is the more expensive one?" _{𝘯𝘰𝑣𝘱𝑢𝘣.𝑐𝑜𝑚}

"You can’t really compare them. Campbell was sold for seven point five million. He outclassed Goater as a defender."

"..."

Seeing O’Neill lower his head in silence, Richard thought he might be dissatisfied with the transaction. So he explained, "Martin, you must understand the current situation at City. We’re still recovering from the financial crisis after the double relegation. Eight million is not a small amount. We don’t have a reason to reject the offer."

O’Neill nodded, then raised his head. "I understand, I understand. Eight million, eight million... But Chairman, no. Richard, I want to ask you a question now, not as the current manager, but as a friend—and you must answer me seriously."

Richard immediately grew serious.

"Speak your mind, Martin."

"What’s your reason for not focusing on your other businesses, like the Rover? Why are you putting so much effort into Manchester City? What are you after? You’re a businessman—don’t tell me it’s just because you love the club!"

Richard was silent for a moment. O’Neill didn’t press him for a reply. He simply stood there, waiting for an answer.

"Do you think I’m lying if I tell you the reason is to make money?"

O’Neill studied Richard for a moment, then replied, "I believe you. But you know, there are a lot of football clubs out there, and how many of them are actually making real money?"

"We have our own plans, Martin. Or, more precisely, I have a plan. I’m the club’s chairman. I’m in charge of managing everything, and naturally, I don’t want to make a loss out of it. Didn’t Manchester United allow the Edwards family to make a fortune off of it?"

O’Neill knew he wasn’t well-versed in the business side of managing a club, and he didn’t want to get caught up in a topic he wasn’t familiar with. So, he decided to redirect the conversation. "Alright, you have your own plans. But tell me, do you know what the main sources of income are for a football club?"

Richard nodded his head and replied, "Of course. Broadcasting rights, matchday revenue, sponsorships, player transfers, merchandising, prize money, and other commercial activities."

O’Neill nodded. "Let me tell you from my professional perspective how to make money." He raised one finger and continued, "Broadcasting rights fees are one of the biggest sources of income. The more your team’s matches get broadcasted by television stations, the more broadcast fees you will receive. You must be very clear on this point."

"Mmm hmm," Richard nodded.

"Then, in your opinion, between the broadcasting fees for a First Division match and a Premier League match, which one is higher?"

"Of course, it’s the Premier League."

"Very good. Now, how many times do you think a team that just got promoted from the Second Division to the First Division can have its matches broadcasted? We are currently in the First Division, and have we gotten a substantial amount from television broadcasts? Didn’t we also experience a financial crisis, just like any other team?"

Richard shook his head. "Martin, the situation was very complicated."

Manchester City had been relegated, and in the past decade, the club had undergone three ownership and management changes. Financial mismanagement and mounting debt forced him to implement radical changes within the club. Additionally, being outside the Premier League limited their access to the lucrative broadcasting deals enjoyed by top-tier clubs.

"Alright, I get it. Let’s shift the conversation to sponsors then. What kind of teams are able to attract global enterprises like Vodafone, Nike, Carling, Coca-Cola, Sharp, and Benz? What kind of teams have the pull to land these types of sponsors? Do you really think a newly promoted team from the Second Division can secure such deals?"

Richard was no fool. He already had a sense of what O’Neill was trying to get at, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

"Then tell me."

"Richard, I know you want to make money—but what’s the most fundamental of football here? The team needs results. We need to climb the leagues, win titles, earn glory. That’s what draws attention from around the world. Only then can we talk about revenue, sponsorships, and global investment."

He continued "I’m the manager of this team. You’re responsible for running the club off the pitch, and I’m responsible for everything on it—training, tactics, matches. I won’t interfere with the business side, but you can’t interfere with mine either. When it comes to transfers, I must have full authority—"

"Rejected," Richard cut him off before he could finish.

"Like I said before, when it comes to transfers at City, you can make recommendations—but the final decisions will be made by me. It’s just like the list of players you gave me earlier, right? Sure, I brought in some of them, but only after my own assessment confirmed they fit the plan."

Richard was firm—almost harsh—about this philosophy. He was determined to establish it early so that every manager who joined Manchester City would understand it from day one: this was how the club operated, no exceptions.

O’Neill was deeply disappointed, but in the end, he chose not to argue further. He simply nodded.

After done with that, both of them made their way to the first-team lounge.

Inside, a number of players and staff had already gathered, sitting or standing around the room, engaged in quiet conversation as they watched the television. The atmosphere was tense yet expectant.

On the screen, the CBF was holding an official press conference. The legendary coach Mário Zagallo stood at the podium, preparing to announce the squad for Brazil’s upcoming Copa América.

"The first name on the list..." Zagallo began, adjusting the microphone slightly, "...Cafu."

A loud cheer broke out in the lounge. Cafu, who had been sitting with his arms crossed, broke into a wide grin. His teammates clapped him on the back, and someone jokingly shouted, "Eh? No surprise there!"

Zagallo continued, "Roberto Carlos."

Roberto Carlos, sitting on the edge of a table, gave a modest nod and smiled as those around him offered handshakes and playful jabs. "Keep that left foot ready," joked Shay Given.

The room fell silent again as everyone waited.

"And finally..." Zagallo paused for effect. "Ronaldo."

There was a collective exhale, followed by a round of loud applause. Ronaldo leaned back in his chair and let out a deep breath, visibly relieved.

A few teammates surrounded him, clapping him on the shoulders. One of them said, "They’d be mad not to take you."

At the back of the room, Richard watched the scene unfold with a quiet, proud smile.

As the press conference ended, the atmosphere in the lounge gradually relaxed. Some players returned to their conversations, others stood to stretch or grab drinks.

It was the final day before the squad would break for the summer. For most, it meant a much-needed holiday. But for a few, it was also a farewell.

Especially for the loan players.

Shay Given will return to Blackburn, while Emile Heskey will go back to Leicester City. Similarly, Ian Taylor, Ian Ferguson, and Tony Grant will all return to their respective clubs.

Around the room, quiet goodbyes began to take shape. Hugs, firm handshakes, and words of thanks were exchanged.

These weren’t loud or dramatic goodbyes—just the kind shared between professionals who’d fought side by side over a long season and now had to part ways.

"Take care of yourself," O’Neill said to each of them. "Hope we meet again—maybe even here in the Premier League."

"Wouldn’t mind that," Shay Given replied, grinning as he looked forward to challenging for his place again at Blackburn.

"They did well," said Jimmy Rouse, City’s senior kit manager, who had accompanied Richard from the very start of his career at Maine Road.

Richard nodded. "Some of them won’t be back. But they helped us get through the season. That matters."

Slowly, the group began to thin out—some heading to their cars, others lingering a bit longer to chat. As the sun dipped lower outside, the lounge gradually emptied.

One by one, the players headed off into their summer breaks—some to rest, some to reflect, and a few, perhaps, to wonder where their next destination would be.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

The knock came just past midnight. Richard barely looked up before calling, "Come in."

Three men stepped through the door.

Mike Phelan, René Meulensteen, and Steve McClaren.

’Ah, so the time has finally arrived...’ Richard thought to himself.