The acquisition of Munich 1860 was a labyrinth of contracts, negotiations, and late-night calls. Neil Goyal and Kunaal Thakur, both 20 and flush with ambition, stayed above the fray, letting their seasoned lawyers untangle the legal knots.
With 100 million Euros each in startup capital from their families' empires, they only stepped in for the big decisions, their eyes fixed on a bold vision: transforming Indian football through a German club.
For 50 million Euros, they secured 95% of Munich 1860's shares. To a 3. Liga club drowning in debt, it was a lifeline. Neil, the impulsive dreamer, insisted on the deal despite warnings, taking 51% as the majority shareholder and personally wiping out 40 million Euros in club debt. Kunaal, ever cautious, held 44%, leaving 5% for loyal fans—a nod to the club's heritage despite the Bundesliga's recent abolition of the 50+1 rule.
The move won over most fans. Munich 1860, teetering on bankruptcy, now had a future. At press conferences and local events, supporters cheered the young Indians who'd saved their club.
Yet a vocal minority resisted, clinging to the old fan-ownership ideals. At one Munich banquet, extremists unfurled banners with racist slurs, targeting Neil and Kunaal.
"These arrogant Germans," Neil muttered, his jaw tight. Kunaal, sipping sparkling water, stayed calm. "Win matches, win their hearts. That's how we shut them up."
Still settling into Munich, the duo remained at the Thakur Hotel Group's lavish "7.0" edition, a gleaming monument to their European expansion.
House-hunting had stalled; Munich's property market was a nightmare for newcomers, even billionaires. Over morning coffee in the hotel's glass-walled lounge, Neil tapped his foot restlessly. "What's our next move?" he asked, eyeing the snowy Alps beyond.
Kunaal, nursing his chai, leaned back. "We delegate the small stuff—legal loose ends, facility upgrades. Our focus is the team. We own Munich 1860 now. It's time to make it ours."
His voice carried the weight of his family's legacy, built from scratch by his parents, Vikram and Anjali Thakur, who turned a single Mumbai lodge into India's largest hotel chain.
Neil grinned, his mind racing. "So, we buy Messi or Ronaldo? Instant star power." Kunaal rolled his eyes, used to Neil's flair for the dramatic.
"We're mid-season in 3. Liga, Neil. We're 16 points behind third-place Wehen Wiesbaden, with only nine rounds left. Promotion's a pipe dream with this squad."
Neil leaned forward, undeterred. "Win six of nine games. Not impossible."
Kunaal shook his head, his business acumen kicking in. "Our players are average. The data's clear—mid-table skills won't cut it. We can't buy anyone until the summer transfer window. That's when we strike."
"Strike how?" Neil pressed, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of a challenge.
Kunaal set down his cup. "Long-term vision. We build a squad for the Bundesliga, maybe Europe, in three to five years. For now, we need immediate impact and future potential—former superstars who can still deliver and young talents ready to grow."
"Give me names," Neil said, leaning closer.
Kunaal obliged. "Eden Hazard, Isco, Luka Modric, Toni Kroos, Sergio Ramos, Zlatan Ibrahimović, Jerome Boateng, Loris Karius. We target four to six signings—a goalkeeper, a defender, one or two midfielders, one or two forwards. We'll need 12 to 15 backups to be safe."
Neil nodded. "Zlatan's a beast. Arrogant, but strong. Let's sign them now." Kunaal chuckled. "Not so fast. These are big names. They won't join a 3. Liga club just for money. We need a targeted pitch—sell them on our vision, not just our wallets."
Neil shrugged, trusting Kunaal's pragmatism. "You handle the strategy. I'm all in." Kunaal smirked, sensing Neil's mind was elsewhere. "Good. First, we finalize the acquisition's last details. Then we start negotiations when the window opens."
Their days filled with Munich's high-society whirl—press conferences, charity galas, and meetings with local officials. The city's elite treated them like royalty, a familiar feeling from Mumbai's elite circles.
Most Munich 1860 fans embraced them, grateful for the debt clearance and the promise of revival. But the extremist holdouts lingered, their protests a constant thorn.
At one event, a banner read, "Foreign Money Out." Neil clenched his fists, but Kunaal's cool glance kept him in check.
Amid the chaos, Neil's thoughts drifted to Anna Weber, the 20-year-old LMU student who'd picked them up at the airport. Her Bayern Munich jersey, sharp blue eyes, and quiet confidence had stuck with him.
At a gala, he spotted her serving drinks, her high ponytail swaying as she moved. "We need a German translator," he told Kunaal, a sly grin spreading. "I'm heading to LMU tomorrow for interviews. It's the top university, right?"
Kunaal groaned, seeing through the ruse. "This is about Anna, isn't it? You're hopeless." Neil winked. "Business and pleasure. She's smart, driven—perfect for our team. A translator could bridge cultures as we rebuild the club." Kunaal sighed, exasperated but amused. "Fine, but don't derail our focus. We're here for Munich 1860, not your love life."
Neil's research on Anna was thorough, not obsessive. She was 170 cm, a business administration major on a scholarship, her family's pride resting on her valedictorian shoulders.
She worked part-time at the Thakur Hotel to fund her studies, her focus unwavering, no boyfriend in sight. Her drive mirrored Neil's own restless ambition, but her poise—those piercing eyes—lit a spark he couldn't ignore.
He pictured her joining their venture, helping navigate German culture and fan expectations. But it wasn't just business.
Munich was her city, and staying here meant more chances to win her over. At LMU, he planned to "interview" her, though he knew it was a pretext to see her again. Her focus on studies made her a challenge, and Neil loved challenges.
Back at the hotel, Kunaal pored over Munich 1860's financials—deficits, unpaid vendor bills, and Germany's steep taxes. "This club's a money pit," he muttered, spreadsheets glowing on his laptop. Neil, sprawled on a velvet couch, was undeterred. "We bought it. It's ours. We'll make it a powerhouse."
Kunaal looked up, skeptical. "It's a long road. The Grünwalder Stadion needs upgrades, the squad's mediocre, and fans are divided. We need results fast."
Neil nodded, his mind half on Anna, half on the club. "Then we start with the summer signings. Hazard, Ibrahimović—players who can turn heads."
Kunaal agreed. "And young talents. We scout Europe's lower leagues, find frustrated supernovas ready to shine. That's how we build a legacy." Neil's eyes lit up. "A legacy India can be proud of. Imagine Indian players training here, competing in the Bundesliga."
Their vision was bold but grounded. Munich 1860 wasn't just a club; it was a bridge to elevate Indian football. Neil saw himself at the helm, Kunaal the strategist, and maybe Anna by their side, her intelligence shaping their outreach to fans. The thought fueled his resolve.
The next morning, Neil headed to LMU, ostensibly for "translator interviews." The campus buzzed with students, but he only had eyes for Anna. He found her in a lecture hall, her nose buried in a textbook. "Anna Weber?" he called, flashing his trademark grin. She looked up, startled, her blue eyes narrowing.
"Mr. Goyal? What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone polite but guarded. Neil leaned against a desk, casual. "We need a translator for Munich 1860. Someone sharp, local, who gets the culture. You're perfect."
Anna blushed but held firm. "I'm focused on my studies. This job at the hotel is enough." Neil didn't push, sensing her resolve. "Think about it. You'd be part of something big—reviving a club, bridging India and Germany." She hesitated, intrigued despite herself.
Back at the hotel, Neil recounted the encounter to Kunaal, who smirked. "You're smitten, but she's all business. Good luck." Neil laughed, undaunted. "She'll come around. And so will the fans. We'll make Munich 1860 unstoppable."