9. Striking Gold in Newcastle

Newcastle upon Tyne's damp chill greeted Neil Goyal and Anna Weber as they stepped off the plane. The port city, one of England's eight core hubs, sprawled along the River Tyne, its 295,000 residents dwarfed by its industrial legacy—coal, shipbuilding, steel.

Neil, scrolling through his phone, scratched his head. "How's a place this small a major city?" Anna, reviewing Newcastle United's profile, didn't look up. "It's history, not size."

Newcastle United, founded in 1881, was a Premier League staple at St. James' Park. Recently acquired by Saudi investors, the club was climbing, eyeing Champions League spots.

Anna, prepping for their meeting, noted, "Karius is their fourth-choice goalkeeper. They're stacked."

Neil, Munich 1860's chairman with 51% ownership, grinned. "Perfect. He's ours for the taking." Anna's diligence, honed by her LMU scholarship, impressed him, though her cool professionalism kept him at bay.

At the airport, Neil's plan stunned Anna. "Karius's home? Not his agent?" Neil smirked, waving his phone. "Got his address from a forum." Anna's eyes widened. "That's illegal. He could call the police."

Neil shrugged. "Then we go down together." Before she could protest, he led her and two junior assistants—Munich university students in their early twenties—into a cab, heading to Karius's apartment. Anna, clutching her tablet, muttered, "This is reckless."

Early morning light bathed the quiet street. Neil's "intel" from Instagram—a dubious tip from anonymous users—led them to a modest building.

Anna, skeptical, checked Newcastle's schedule. "They're playing away. Karius is likely with them."

Neil pointed. "Then who's that?" Loris Karius, in sweatpants, was taking out the trash. As Newcastle's fourth-choice goalkeeper, he'd been left behind, a benchwarmer waiting for training.

Neil sprinted forward. "Loris! Loris!" Karius flinched, raising his hands defensively. "Whatever you want, I've got nothing," he said, mistaking Neil for a reporter. Neil waved him off. "Not media. I'm with Munich 1860."

Karius, wary, started back inside. Neil, desperate, shouted, "Don't you want your kid to see you as a hero?" Karius froze. His girlfriend's pregnancy, announced in March, weighed heavily. At 30, his career was stalled.

"What'd you say?" Karius growled, grabbing Neil's collar. Neil, undaunted, pressed on. "Your child's coming. Be their hero, not Newcastle's benchwarmer. Join Munich 1860—save our club."

Karius's grip loosened, his eyes searching Neil's. Anna and the assistants caught up, presenting club documents. Karius, softening, agreed to meet that afternoon at a café of his choice. Neil grinned. "Told you."

At the Thakur Hotel, arranged in advance, they rested briefly. Neil, noticing his reflection, slipped out.

"Getting a haircut," he told Anna, who raised a brow. "Now?" Neil's long hair, a nod to his idol John Wick, was gone by noon, replaced by a sharp, business-casual cut.

His flashy clothes swapped for a tailored suit, he looked transformed—less playboy, more CEO. Anna, momentarily stunned, refocused on prepping for Karius's meeting.

The café, near Karius's apartment, was cozy, its windows fogged from the chill. Karius and his agent awaited.

Anna translated, her English precise. The agent, adjusting his glasses, scoffed. "Approaching a player like this? Unorthodox." Neil leaned in. "Results matter, not process. Loris, you're wasting talent at Newcastle. Join us—forge your own path."

Karius, quiet, listened as Neil outlined Munich 1860's vision. "We're not building for 3. Liga. We're aiming for Europe's top. You're our first signing, but we've chased Buffon, Ibrahimović—big names."

The agent raised a brow. "Buffon rejected you." Neil nodded. "True. But our list's long, and our offer's double your Newcastle salary, a four-year deal, guaranteed starts."

The agent softened, sensing opportunity. Karius spoke up. "I just want to play." Neil seized the moment.

"Within three years, you'll lead us to the Bundesliga. Four years, Champions League. You'll reclaim what you lost in 2018. Your kid, three years old then, will see you shine."

Karius's 2018 Champions League final errors—two blunders costing Liverpool—still haunted him. Neil's words hit home.

The agent scribbled terms on a napkin: double salary, four-year contract, starting role, Bundesliga in three years, Champions League in four, team leadership.

Neil added, "And you'll be a great goalkeeper again." Karius nodded, eyes brightening. The agent agreed to finalize talks, pending Newcastle's approval, as Karius's contract expired that season.

Back in Munich, Kunaal Thakur, general manager with 44% ownership, juggled club duties—youth academy construction, Luca Toni's onboarding, media.

His phone rang late. "Neil?" he answered, bracing for trouble. "Send agents to Newcastle," Neil said. Kunaal frowned. "Another fight?" Neil laughed. "No. Karius agreed to sign." Kunaal paused, stunned. "Seriously?"

"It's verbal, but his agent's on board," Neil said. "Newcastle's contract ends soon, so we're clear to talk."

Kunaal, shaped by his parents' struggles, admired Neil's audacity. "You're crazy, but it worked." Anna, beside Neil, updated Kunaal via email, her efficiency seamless.

Kunaal tasked Toni with scouting German talent to complement Karius, eyeing the summer window.

Karius's career arc—Stuttgart youth, Mainz stardom, Liverpool's fall, Newcastle's bench—made him a gamble. But at 30, with eight saves in the 2023 League Cup final, he had potential.

Neil's pitch had reignited his drive. Anna, reflecting on the deal, saw Kunaal's strategy and Neil's boldness converge. "Good work," she told Neil, but declined his moves. "I've got exams."