Chapter 9: Wizard of Business

"This is the political heart of English football!" someone once declared—and here Yang Cheng stood in front of a six-story office building in SOHO Square, London, his heart a cocktail of sighs and awe. He'd heard so many wild tales about this building that his mind couldn't help but wander. There were whispers of a legendary love triangle in the first half of '04: FA CEO Palios, England manager Christian Eriksen, and FA secretary Faria Alam. A zipper door incident that nearly knocked out Palios and left Eriksen teetering on the brink of job loss. The whole FA got a bad rap, earning nicknames like "Flirt Anonymous." (Apparently, FA also stood for "Flirters Anonymous.")

Yang Cheng's thoughts drifted to another name, one that every football insider mentioned in hushed, reverent tones: Adam Crozier. This young Scotsman was a bona fide wizard in the business world. By 26, Crozier was the managing director of a major British ad giant, and by 30 he was co-CEO. At 36, he shockingly joined the FA as its youngest-ever CEO. Crozier didn't just shuffle papers—he moved the FA's headquarters from the dusty outskirts of Lancaster right into the heart of London, reinvented the FA's image, slashed the average employee age from 51 to 32, and even boosted the proportion of female staff from under 10% to 60%! In just two years, he turned the FA's revenue from a measly £20 million to a rocket-fueled £120 million.

Alas, every wizard eventually meets his curse. With the backing of FA president Geoff Thompson, Crozier had grand ambitions to wrest the Premier League's management into FA hands. This led to a £5 million sponsorship deal for England players' image rights—a plan that made club bigwigs shudder. Premier League giants, led by former Chelsea chairman Bates and backed by Manchester United and Arsenal, soon formed a professional competition committee to wrest that power back. In a dramatic twist, Chairman Geoff Thompson eventually defected, and Crozier—tragically backstabbed—stepped down. Palios then took over as CEO in July '03, and Crozier's magnificent reform ended in a bittersweet fiasco.

Though Yang Cheng had never met Crozier in his previous life (having left football behind after his own managerial exploits), he had long admired this "hero" of English football—a man who, despite criticism, was privately hailed as a true business wizard. Many joked that if it weren't for Crozier's radical reforms and his knack for hiring youthful staff (and thereby inspiring later love triangles), the FA might still have been a den of balding old men. After the FA, Crozier went on to work his magic at Royal Mail, turning a stodgy institution into a profit machine. Yang Cheng himself had later become CEO of several media companies, confirming that, yes, Crozier really was a business wizard.

Later, Yang Cheng stepped into the FA building where Dinamo Zagreb's CEO Damir Vbanovic was already waiting. With him was not only the young Luka Modric—fresh from Croatia—but also a living legend: Boban. Inside, Modric stood beside his idol, laughing and chatting with FA president Geoff Thompson, CEO Palios, and even national team manager Christian Eriksen. Clearly, legends make an entrance.

"Sorry I'm late," Yang Cheng grinned as he entered. The room fell momentarily silent—if only to size up the youth before them. Under Vbanovic's introduction, everyone maintained their dignified façade. But then Eriksen, with a mischievous sparkle, quipped, "I came here not just with my old friend Zvonimir, but to see who dares dig into our national team's corner!" His tone was relaxed, cheeky, even a bit playful.

"What's going on?" Geoff Thompson blurted out, clearly anxious about the prospect of meddling with England's finest. "Brian Kidd was just approached by a third-tier club offering £300,000 a year to take over!" Eriksen laughed, glancing at Yang Cheng. "£300,000, you say? For Brian Kidd?" Palios's jaw dropped—his own annual salary was only £450,000. The idea that a third-tier club could lure one of England's top assistant coaches was both absurd and strangely brilliant.

Modric, listening from the sidelines, felt a mix of shock, excitement, and worry. Here was a man who'd helped build the midfield for Real Madrid and still kept in touch with Yang Cheng. If Brian Kidd, the revered right-hand man from Manchester United's Class of '92, accepted an invitation from the Beswater Chinese, it would validate everything Yang Cheng had promised him.

"Bryan is one of the best coaches in Europe," Yang Cheng proclaimed, his tone as calm and confident as a seasoned magician revealing his best trick. "He's been nurtured by the FA and Manchester United, learned from Real Madrid, AC Milan, Juventus—you name it. With him on board, our training and tactics will reach stratospheric levels."

Palios and Thompson exchanged frustrated glances, while Boban and Vbanovic looked on in a mix of admiration and disbelief. The prospect of Brian Kidd joining Beswater Chinese seemed so outrageous, yet Yang Cheng's persuasive, measured style made it hard to argue with him.

"And as for the FA," Yang Cheng continued with a wry smile, "I have no doubt that Brian Kidd will bring his signature magic to our club. After all, the FA once entrusted him to the heavens of English football. Now, it's our turn."

The room buzzed with a mix of amusement and cautious optimism. Even though Eriksen joked about his sky-high annual salary, everyone knew that inviting a top coach like Kidd could mean a seismic shift in their fortunes.

As Yang Cheng swept through the crowd, his witty remarks and confident demeanor won over many. Damir Vbanovic, who had doubted him initially, now regarded Yang Cheng with renewed respect. Even the FA bigwigs—Thompson and Palios—couldn't help but be impressed by the young maverick who spoke of tactics, talent, and the future of football with the ease of a seasoned veteran.

"Ha, Sven, you're exaggerating," Yang Cheng teased as he wrapped up his pitch. "But seriously, with Brian Kidd on board, you'll see—our team will be the talk of Europe. We're not just a third-tier club; we're a launching pad for legends."

In that moment, as legends like Boban and rising stars like Modric looked on, it became clear: Yang Cheng wasn't just a young club owner; he was a visionary, a true wizard of business who could turn even the most improbable dream into a reality.

And despite the looming challenges—FA hearings, transfer nightmares, and the constant financial juggling act—the room collectively felt a spark of hope. If Yang Cheng could tame the wild world of English football business politics, maybe, just maybe, the Beswater Chinese were destined for something spectacular.

"Alright," someone whispered, "let's see if the magic works."

And with that, the future of the club—and perhaps a revolution in football—hung tantalizingly in the balance."