Regrettably, the game ended with a victory for the Detroit Pistons.
Jordan scored a whopping 48 points, but… he couldn't overcome Detroit's trademark sticky defense.
"Well, who cares?"
I'm just happy that I got to see Jordan's game in person.
We headed to a nearby restaurant for dinner.
Today's menu was pizza.
It was just after we placed our order and I leaned back into my chair with a relieved look.
"Mr. Park, may I ask you something?"
It seemed Baker was still curious about the conversation that had been cut off earlier.
"English fans have a reputation for being tough. Do you really think they'll hand over the club to Asian investors? They won't be happy about it."
"I'm not expecting them to be happy."
"…Then?"
"We have to put in the effort. More than enough effort."
Baker waited for me to continue.
Maybe it's because we've already agreed to work together.
"President?"
He even changed the way he addressed me, waiting for my response.
"The fans want just one thing. To see a football vision."
If we can show through that vision how serious we are about football,
The fans will definitely offer their full support.
"Didn't I tell you before? We're going to run satellite clubs where Manchester United's prospects can play."
Brazil, Italy's second division, Portugal, Belgium, and so on.
"They're different teams, but they'll all share the same football philosophy."
"What do you mean by that?"
A concept that was unfamiliar at the time.
Of course.
Because this was the model later presented when Red Bull Group acquired RB Leipzig.
1. The Red Bull Group runs satellite clubs across continents for RB Leipzig.
2. What's special here is that all the satellite clubs share Leipzig's football philosophy.
3. Once this system is established, players from the satellite clubs can immediately adapt to Leipzig's tactics right after transferring. Why? Because all Red Bull Group clubs aim to play the same kind of football.
This systematic approach…
Is what drives football fans crazy!
But there's no point in explaining all this to the fans with just words.
First, we need to operate a few teams and prove it with results!
'It'll take quite a bit of time, though.'
Anyway, it'll take three years for the Capsule Monsters to be developed.
In other words, acquiring Manchester United is a long-term, three-year project for me!
When I finished explaining, Baker stared at me with a look of disbelief.
"When did you… think of all this?"
"Well, watching basketball, I realized there are more timeouts than I thought."
"So you came up with all of this in that short time…"
I can't tell him it's because I know the future.
Let's just leave it at that.
"But Mr. Baker."
"Yes, President?"
"You can't just stand there in shock."
"What do you mean by that…?"
"These are all my ideas. But you'll be the one to handle all of them."
"What?"
"I'm 14 years old. I can't exactly acquire and run a football team myself, can I?"
Maybe it was the mental list of tasks piling up in his head, but
Baker's face grew more complicated.
"Oh, and there's something I haven't mentioned. This is the most important part…"
"What else is there?"
"Yes. And this one, you'll have to do immediately."
Before the sense of foreboding completely engulfed him, I continued calmly.
***
The next day. Porto Alegre, Brazil.
Baker still couldn't quite believe he was actually in Brazil.
'What exactly is happening right now?'
It felt like a train was rushing ahead before he could even gather his thoughts.
But what choice did he have?
If the destination is the golden land of Eldorado,
He'd have to hang on for dear life and stick with it, no matter what.
Baker, holding the note written by the president, hurriedly hailed a taxi.
"To Junior Stadium, please."
"The game's over by now…"
"I'm not going there to watch a match."
Vroom!
This isn't exactly a safe country.
With ongoing political conflicts, trouble seems to arise repeatedly.
'I hope nothing happens.'
How long had they been driving through the rundown streets?
"We've arrived."
After paying the fare, Baker headed into Junior Stadium.
So, this is one of Brazil's prestigious clubs?
Contrary to its reputation, the stadium wasn't in good condition.
Rusty iron gates and smelly hallways.
Even the guard was sprawled out, asleep on the job.
"Excuse me."
"..."
"Excuse me?"
"Mmph."
He had the look of someone wondering why anyone would come here when the season's over.
"I have an appointment with the club owner."
***
"I won't take anything less than a hundred million dollars."
The club owner spoke as if issuing a threat.
A hundred million dollars—one-fourth the price of Manchester United.
He wants that much to sell a Brazilian club?
But that's how it was.
He seemed determined not to sell for less.
"Isn't it hard to even pay the players' wages? I heard you've got a lot of debt."
"That kind of money… I can make it back in no time by selling a few players, so what…"
He wasn't wrong.
However…
"These days, all the top players are flocking to São Paulo, Corinthians, and Palmeiras, aren't they? You keep treating the company's money like your own personal wallet…"
"Are you here to threaten me?"
"Threaten? I'm just trying to negotiate properly based on facts."
"This is why I hate dealing with Americans. You're all the same!"
"Then why did you agree to meet me?"
"..."
"The reason you met with this 'unbearable American'…"
"..."
"Could it be because you want to settle things before the investigation starts?"
At Baker's words, the club owner's face twisted into a scowl.
He looked like he was wondering just how much Baker knew.
"Shall we have an honest conversation now?"
'This is too easy, too easy.'
Baker left the owner's office with a pleased look on his face.
Next, he headed to Junior's administrative office.
"This player, he's part of your youth team, right?"
"What?"
"I'd like to know his address."
"And who are you, exactly?"
Instead of answering, Baker pulled out a contract with the club owner's signature.
"I-I'm sorry for not recognizing you."
The staff member quickly searched through the files and wrote down the address.
Perhaps eager to make up for the earlier mistake, they even drew a map by hand.
Baker glanced down at the paper and asked,
"I'm new here, is it far from here?"
"Well, it's… not far, but…"
"…?"
"It's a bit dangerous. It's in a slum. You might want to consider hiring private security…"
Security? Is it that dangerous?
Baker felt curious, but decided to follow the staff's advice.
After all, the president had provided him with plenty of money.
There was no need to take unnecessary risks.
The place he arrived at… was in worse condition than he had expected.
Many people lay scattered across the streets, seemingly under the influence of drugs.
Children kicked a ball around, weaving through the fallen bodies.
Hmm.
On closer inspection, calling it a ball was generous—it was more like a bundle of leather.
The children burst into laughter, kicking the ball barefoot.
It would have been a disaster without the bodyguards.
"From here, you'll have to walk."
He wondered why they gave him a hand-drawn map when the address was clearly written down.
'Damn it. Is it because most of the buildings here are illegal constructions?'
There weren't even nameplates, and the address was almost impossible to read.
'Nothing's in proper order here.'
Because of that, Baker had no choice but to knock on random doors.
How many houses had he visited like this?
"Wahhh!"
The sound of children cheering echoed from the end of the alley.
Curious, he turned his head and saw a little boy with a shaved head dribbling a ball, running down the narrow alley.
Even as older boys, much bigger than him, tried to stop him.
Swoosh, swoosh.
The boy effortlessly evaded two or three defenders with his footwork.
And that wasn't all.
Tap.
He flicked the ball over the opponent's head.
Tatata!
In an instant, he darted around them.
Tap.
With his back foot, he calmly controlled the ball.
When the opponents, startled, turned to see what had happened, the ball was already slipping between their legs.
"Wahhh!"
So that's what all the cheering was about—it was because of that little kid.
At that moment, a thought struck Baker.
'They said he was part of a prestigious youth team, right?'
Baker hurriedly ran towards the little boy.
The kid, seeing a grown man running towards him, was about to flee in surprise.
"You're Ronaldo, right?"
"…What?"
"Ronaldo Junior? That's you, isn't it?"
***
Meanwhile, in Chicago, USA.
I was jogging in the park.
Maybe it was because I had just watched a game of physical titans.
I felt an urge to exercise for some reason.
Well, that makes sense.
In my past life, I had always lived cooped up behind a desk.
'It's only natural to yearn for physical activity.'
Fortunately, the DNA I inherited didn't seem bad.
Even though I had been running for ten minutes straight, my breathing felt stable.
'Should I speed up?'
After running for another five minutes,
"Hoo… hoo…"
I sat on a bench to catch my breath.
It was a bit boring to run without music, but…
'I feel refreshed. It feels good.'
Should I take this opportunity to get in shape too?
Yeah, it's my second life.
It wouldn't be a bad idea to live a bit differently this time, hehe.
As I was catching my breath, lost in these random thoughts,
'By the way,'
I wonder if Baker is doing well?
I had entrusted him with two major tasks.
To acquire Junior's club.
And to take good care of one player from the youth team.
For example,
Giving a kid who grew up in a difficult environment a new house right next to the stadium.
Or ensuring the club provides a monthly living stipend, so his family can live comfortably.
Basically, creating an environment where he could focus solely on football.
'Why go to such lengths?' he had asked.
The answer was simple.
Because that kid possessed the greatest talent in the history of football.
Thanks to his natural ability, he succeeded, but… perhaps due to his troubled childhood,
He became a tragic genius with a short prime, his wings clipped by a reckless lifestyle.
'But what if we could continue to manage him?'
What if he could have a long, sustained career like Messi or Ronaldo?
And most of all, what if, instead of drifting around teams like Paris Saint-Germain, Barcelona, or AC Milan,
He settled at Manchester United from the start and became a one-club man, showcasing consistent performances?
'The picture I most want to see after acquiring Manchester United.'
Just imagining it makes me happy!
Ronaldo Gaucho.
Or as we know him, Ronaldinho Gaucho.
As I pictured him wearing the number 10 for Manchester United,
Thump, thump.
My heart, which had calmed down, began racing once again.
TL/n -
Football is not my thing.