Football Dynasty-Chapter 578: End of the Season Gathering

Manchester City’s path to the FA Cup this season was relatively smooth, without facing severe challenges — this was a major factor in their triumph. Still, City players felt a deep sense of regret; they should have listened to Richard’s advice and avoided reading the newspapers or even turning on the TV the next day.

Two months earlier, headlines had been buzzing with predictions about Manchester City’s chances of clinching a more prestigious trophy, such as the Premier League, which still seemed within reach. But just eight or nine weeks later, the entire team found themselves facing a barrage of criticism.

"Is the FA Cup Enough for a Club of This Size?"

"From Title Defenders to Defensive Collapse — Buffon’s absence is already being felt."

"Manchester City’s Empire Cracking?"

There was a prevailing belief that City’s Paul Robinson (GK) was their weak link; he could be counted on to concede the goals he shouldn’t, while the ones he should save would sometimes slip through. The same pundits who had applauded City’s tactical discipline were now dissecting every conceded goal in slow motion. Some claimed the team had lost its defensive edge, that the hunger was gone, and that complacency had crept into the squad.

The FA Cup was not a minor achievement, yet many treated it as though it were merely a consolation prize. Overall, the assessment of the team was that they lacked maturity and stability. Individual players were also dragged out for public scorn.

Pires was criticized for his poor dribbling: too selfish, too individualistic.

Zidane didn’t score Ronaldo—unworthy of being a spiritual leader. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Henry and Larsson had precious few opportunities and delivered underwhelming performances. Ronaldo only began to heat up when the season was already nearing its end, and his displays this year were simply lackluster compared to last season.

Even Zambrotta and Ashley Cole were reproached: "Is running back and forth the only thing you can do? Can’t you deliver a decent cross?"

Thuram and Cannavaro were particularly targeted, especially for the goals conceded in the first half of the season — a period when City struggled badly in front of goal and were constantly held to draws.

Thanks to this, Miss Heysen, Karen Brady, and Marina Granovskaia — who had arrived in Manchester shortly after accompanying Richard in Spain — began discussing how to prepare a pre-campaign strategy for the upcoming season. Whether they liked it or not, they had to consult Richard.

"Focus on Zidane, don’t worry about the others" Richard said directly.

For what purpose?

The Ballon d’Or.

Twenty-two assists and six goals were no joke. Not to mention the World Cup. And of course, while a club did not officially control the voting, it could still influence or support a player’s Ballon d’Or campaign.

They could arrange exclusive interviews with The Independent, which Richard owned. They could push headlines highlighting the player’s achievements, emphasize his creative dominance, and replay decisive moments — especially his impact during the World Cup.

Narratives mattered. And Richard understood that better than anyone.

Not only the players were targeted. Mourinho, who had replaced O’Neill as head coach, naturally faced mockery from all sides. He was treated like a loser, with every passerby eager to swing a stick at his head.

Seeing the news, the players inevitably felt resentful; even the most rational among them struggled to maintain their composure. The coaching staff, however, had a broader perspective. This was simply the usual pattern of the British media — nothing about it was surprising.

The British sports and entertainment press operates according to its own ruthless logic. In essence, it thrives on elevating some while tearing others down. If someone is in the spotlight, they amplify it to celestial heights, ensuring all eyes are fixed upon them. But if someone begins to fall, they are trampled without mercy until there is nothing left to criticize. Sympathy is a scarce commodity.

To ensure the players were not affected by the media storm, Manchester City organized their annual Player of the Season awards earlier than usual — a full week before the holidays began.

The celebration did not take place inside Maine Road but it was held quietly — deliberately — in a high-end restaurant in London, one that had been booked in advance under strict privacy arrangements.

Trezeguet was named City’s Top Scorer.

Zidane was crowned City’s Player of the Season.

Zambrotta received the Players’ Player of the Season award, a recognition voted for by his teammates.

Pirlo was named Young Player of the Season.

Pires won Goal of the Season for his stunning strike with his shin instead of foot.

And finally, Ronaldinho claimed the Fans’ Player of the Season award — thanks not only to his dazzling performances, but also to his infectious samba celebrations that had won over the supporters all year long.

After the club award ceremony, the celebration hadn’t fully ended.

Instead of leaving, every City player drifted toward the large television mounted in the lounge. Laughter faded into anxious silence as they gathered behind Mourinho, who was adjusting the volume on the Brazilian channel, Globo.

The screen showed a formal studio backdrop — green and yellow graphics, federation logos, microphones lined neatly across a polished desk.

Zidane leaned closer to Ronaldo and murmured, "I thought you were already certain to be called up."

Ronaldo shrugged, trying to appear relaxed. "Better safe than sorry."

But his jaw was tight.

On the screen, Brazil’s head coach, Vanderlei Luxemburgo, sat upright, a sheet of paper in his hand.

"We will now announce the final 22-man squad for the 1998 Copa América."

The room fell completely silent.

"Ronaldo."

A few shoulders visibly loosened. Ronaldo exhaled quietly, fists clenching for a split second before he masked it with a nod.

"Ronaldinho."

Ronaldinho grinned instinctively, pumping his fist once, but no one celebrated loudly. The tension hadn’t left the room.

All eyes shifted toward Lúcio

Name after name followed.

Defenders. Midfielders. A goalkeeper.

Each syllable stretched the silence further.

Twenty-one names.

Twenty-two.

The list ended.

No Lúcio.

The studio cut to commentators discussing tactical balance. In Manchester, no one moved. Lúcio stood still, arms folded, staring at the television as if waiting for a correction.

None came.

"...," someone muttered under their breath.

Ronaldo looked at him first but said nothing. Zidane lowered his gaze respectfully. Even Mourinho remained quiet, knowing this wasn’t a moment for speeches.

It was Ronaldinho who broke the silence.

He stepped forward, threw an arm around Lúcio’s shoulders, and suddenly pulled him toward the trophy table.

"Come," he said softly. "We still won something."

Before Lúcio could protest, Ronaldinho grabbed the small League Cup trophy and dragged him in front of a cluster of club photographers who were still lingering from the ceremony.

"Smile, irmão."

The cameras clicked. Ronaldinho flashed his wide, gap-toothed grin, lifting the trophy high and giving a cheerful thumbs-up. Lúcio forced a small smile at first — stiff, uncertain.

But the squad began clapping. Then someone whistled.

Ronaldo stepped in, raising both hands. "Next year," he said firmly. "They’ll regret it."

A few players echoed the sentiment.

"Next year."

"Work harder."

"Prove them wrong."

Slowly, the mood shifted. Not into loud celebration — but into defiance. Music started again in the background. Someone turned up the volume slightly too high. A few players began joking about Brazilian coaches and politics. The heaviness didn’t disappear entirely, but it transformed.

Lúcio looked once more at the paused television screen, then at his teammates surrounding him.

He nodded.

The party resumed — softer at first, then gradually returning to life. Football could break you in one moment but you were never left alone with it.

In an interview for the club website, captain Cannavaro thanked the fans who had supported the team throughout the season. He admitted that while the trophy itself was important, the boost in morale mattered even more.

As they prepared for a series of intense matches ahead, winning a championship served as a powerful surge of adrenaline for the entire squad.

In less than five years under Richard’s management, Manchester City — a club that had not won a major trophy in decades — had already secured one Premier League title, one Champions League trophy, and one FA Cup. A total of three major honors had completely transformed the club’s standing.

He was no longer seen as merely a young owner in English football. He had earned substantial recognition. The stature to which he had been elevated by the public was now comparable to figures such as Evangelos Marinakis of Nottingham Forest, Jack Walker of Blackburn Rovers, and Newcastle’s Sir John Hall.

The number of supporters is a vital measure of a football club’s influence — and influence, in modern football, inevitably translates into commercial power.

During Richard’s era, Manchester City had undergone a remarkable transformation. On the pitch, they had become champions. Off the pitch, however, the battle was different. Changing the deeply rooted loyalties of older fans — those who had supported rival clubs for decades — would always be difficult.

Richard understood this. Rather than trying to convert entrenched supporters, he aimed to "capture" the younger generation and the neutral audience. Just as he had built the team with long-term vision, he approached the fan market strategically. While others focused purely on signing current superstars to generate instant attention, he gravitated toward legendary figures and iconic names — players whose reputations carried global weight and timeless appeal.

It was not that he lacked interest in emerging stars. He was simply constrained by reality. The same constraints applied to the fan market. In this growing era of streaming media, he sought to maximize the club’s digital presence, particularly online, where younger audiences dominated. City’s promotional strategy aligned perfectly with this vision.

Outside the restaurant, the media had already gathered, hungry for sensational headlines. Karren Brady, as head of marketing, was already waiting outside to handle the press.

"I just want to make a reminder," Karren Brady began calmly. "Starting this summer, Manchester City will host an annual one-month Youth Football Charity Cup. Teams may participate in various compositions, but all players must be under the age of fifteen."

She paused briefly before continuing.

"City champions will first be determined at the regional level. The regional winners will then gather in Manchester for the national finals. The city champion will receive £2,000, the regional champion £3,000, and the overall champion £10,000. The runner-up will earn £5,000."

A murmur spread through the room.

"And finally," She added, "Manchester City will donate £500,000 to children’s charities in the name of the championship team. Prize amounts and donations may increase depending on future circumstances. The Football Association will oversee the organization of the tournament, while the operational costs will be covered by our sponsors in cooperation with the FA."

One reporter began applauding, and others quickly followed. It was not entirely new information — the initiative had been mentioned before. Nevertheless, City’s public commitment to youth development and charity under the club’s name was a gesture guaranteed to earn approval.

The plan for the Charity Cup had been initiated by Richard as part of Manchester City’s long-term strategy to expand its local scouting network locally. Having financial resources was not enough; the club needed time, structure, and access to young talent. This tournament would quietly widen City’s recruitment reach across the country.

The structure of the Charity Cup was soon finalized. It would be held every summer, even in years that coincided with major international competitions. After all, this was an under-15 tournament — there was no possibility of conflict with national teams. Despite being a non-professional youth event, the involvement of charity gave it weight. Once charitable causes, emerging talent, and sponsors were linked together, attention would naturally follow.

The overall costs were relatively manageable. London alone had an abundance of football pitches suitable for youth matches, which significantly reduced infrastructure expenses. That was one of the reasons London was selected as the primary regional host city. Only the grand final would be staged in Manchester, at Maine Road, giving the young finalists a symbolic taste of a professional stage.

This is Manchester City way to seized the opportunity to enhance the club’s image and build goodwill across various cities in England, marking the beginning of their climb to challenge Manchester United for dominance in the Premier League’s fan market.

It was still only the first step. In reality, the initiative was a carefully calculated investment in the future — not only in goodwill, but also in talent.

CLAP!

Mourinho clapped his hands sharply, the sound cutting through the noise of chatter in the dressing room. Conversations died down instantly. Players who had been joking, arguing, or teasing each other before the break turned their attention toward him.

He stood in the center of the room, arms folded, expression firm but not unkind.

"Good job this season," he said, his voice steady. "Enjoy your holiday. You’ve earned it."

A few players nodded. Someone in the back muttered a relieved laugh.

"For those heading to international duty — good luck. Represent your countries properly. And come back in one piece."

That drew a few smirks.

He scanned the room slowly before adding, "And don’t eat too much unhealthy food. I don’t want anyone returning overweight."

A ripple of laughter spread through the squad.

"Because," Mourinho continued, raising a finger for emphasis, "pre-season is waiting for you. And it won’t be kind."

Groans erupted immediately.

"You think I’ll forget?" he added dryly. "I won’t. Pintus is waiting for you."

At the mention of the fitness coach’s name, the laughter turned into dramatic despair. Some players covered their faces. Others shook their heads.