Chapter 171 – The Bottom-Fishing Specialist! Who Are the Chinese at Bayswater Eyeing? Let Me Poach Them!
When the 38th round of the Premier League concluded, media and fans across the globe let out a collective sigh of relief.
It had been too intense!
Seriously, have you ever seen a league—any league, any season—where five teams are still battling for the three remaining spots in the top four on the final matchday?
Didn't think so.
This season's Premier League was truly one of a kind!
Especially in the final few rounds, the drama was off the charts.
Bayswater Chinese had taken the lead early on and clinched the title well ahead of time, making the championship race ironically the least suspenseful of all.
Manchester United had once been in the running for the title against Bayswater Chinese, only to get overtaken by Wenger's Arsenal. By the last round, the Red Devils were barely hanging on.
All matches of Round 38 were played simultaneously.
Arsenal hosted Stoke City and smashed in three goals within the first seven minutes, quickly securing the lead.
Wenger's side had clearly improved over the season after adjustments and integration, with a standout performance in the latter half of the campaign.
Liverpool were at home against Tottenham Hotspur. Benítez's men grabbed the lead in the 29th minute thanks to a goal from Torres and then dominated the rest of the match.
Manchester City hosted Bolton. Just eight minutes in, Kaká opened the scoring, showcasing his tactical value when it mattered most.
Chelsea's only hope of finishing in the top four hinged on United, Liverpool, and City all losing—only then could they stage a comeback.
Hiddink's team played rather shakily in the first half, ending the away half against Sunderland 0–0.
But in the second half, Hiddink decided to go all out and engage in a fierce shootout with Sunderland.
Anelka, Kalou, and Ashley Cole all found the net in succession.
Although the defense also leaked goals, Chelsea managed to scrape by with a narrow 3–2 win over the Black Cats.
Every contender secured their victory—except Manchester United. There was still no update from their game.
Ferguson's team was playing Hull City in the final round, who were sitting 17th in the table.
Between 16th-place Sunderland and 19th-place Middlesbrough, there was only a four-point gap.
Sunderland and 18th-place Newcastle were only separated by two points.
In other words, the relegation battle in the final round was brutal.
That's why Sunderland went all-in against Chelsea.
Hull City had been getting battered all season since their promotion, conceding a whopping 68 goals—more than any other team in the Premier League.
Even bottom-placed West Brom had conceded one fewer.
Logically, facing a team like Hull City—even on the road—United should have had the game in the bag.
But the reality?
Ferguson's side just couldn't break Hull City down.
The Tigers, playing at home, showed unprecedented grit and resolve, going toe-to-toe with Manchester United like their lives depended on it.
Phil Brown's 4-2-3-1 formation showed no fear, even when facing United's full-strength lineup, and at times had the Red Devils on the ropes.
Can you blame them? We're talking about revenues worth 40–50 million pounds here.
Relegation and survival are worlds apart.
Hull City were practically going berserk in pressing United.
After being knocked out of the Champions League and FA Cup by Bayswater Chinese, and missing out on the league title, United had been in terrible form, including home losses to City and Arsenal.
Naturally, fans were anxious.
And against Hull City, who were playing like ravenous wolves, United genuinely couldn't find an answer.
Fortunately, Ferguson's defense held firm and managed to keep the ball out of their net.
The deadlock persisted.
Elsewhere, Liverpool, Manchester City, Arsenal, and Chelsea had all secured their wins. The pressure was mounting on United.
But that's just the kind of team they are.
Whether it's Rooney or Ronaldo—the more anxious they get, the worse their efficiency.
The game dragged into stoppage time in the second half—90 minutes gone—and United still hadn't scored.
If the match ended at this point, Hull City would survive, and Manchester United would be bumped out of the top four, replaced by Manchester City.
This was something Ferguson simply couldn't accept.
Then, in the final minute of stoppage time, when Ferguson and his players had thrown everything forward in desperation, Ashley Young received the ball on the left flank, cut inside past a defender, and curled in a diagonal cross with his right foot.
The ball sailed over a sea of heads in the box and landed near the right post.
And at almost the exact moment, Cristiano Ronaldo darted in like a bolt of lightning, soaring into the air like a deity descending from the heavens, and unleashed a ferocious, thunderous header straight into Hull City's goal.
Keeper Myhill stood no chance at such close range.
Ronaldo went absolutely wild!
It was his 19th Premier League goal of the season.
But unquestionably the most important one.
Because it sent Manchester United to the Champions League.
In the words of the Sky Sports commentator who completely lost it, "That goal is worth over 30 million pounds!"
"This summer, United must keep Ronaldo—the man who sent them to the Champions League!"
And in the end, Manchester United did make it.
The unlucky ones? Their noisy neighbors—Manchester City.
After 38 rounds, Arsenal had 84 points. United, City, and Liverpool all finished on 83, and Chelsea on 80.
It wasn't surprising that the Blues missed out on the Champions League.
What was heartbreaking was that Manchester City had held a UCL spot for nearly 90 minutes.
Until that final moment when Ronaldo's header snuffed out their dreams.
According to Premier League rules, when points are equal, goal difference comes first, followed by total goals scored, and then head-to-head records.
United, thanks to those rules, leapfrogged both Liverpool and City to finish third. Liverpool ended up fourth.
City, at the last second, were shoved off the train to next season's Champions League.
The three relegated teams were West Bromwich Albion, Middlesbrough, and Newcastle.
The news lit up media and fans not just across the UK, but around the world.
For West Brom, it wasn't such a shock.
But Middlesbrough? A known Premier League mainstay.
And Newcastle? Once a top-tier giant.
Now, all three had been relegated.
It left many longtime Premier League fans feeling nostalgic and bitter.
…
Yang Cheng, however, felt nothing of the sort.
These old clubs had long failed to keep up with the times. If they didn't get relegated, who should?
Besides, Newcastle had been listed for sale in London's financial district by owner Mike Ashley for years—no takers.
Why?
Because no one knew just how deep the financial black hole at Newcastle ran.
But Yang Cheng had a particularly bad habit.
At the end of every season, he'd do a sweep of the relegated teams in the top four leagues to see if there was anyone that Bayswater Chinese could use.
It was an old habit by now.
He'd practically become a professional bottom-fisher.
Can't be helped—his club used to be poor, remember?
Right?
Plus, with a new stadium in the works, they had to tighten their belts, save wherever they could.
What, you think pounds grow like leeks in a field, ready for harvest every season?
Honestly, there wasn't a single player at West Brom that caught Yang Cheng's eye.
And that's not even him being picky—it's just that the Baggies didn't have the quality.
Middlesbrough, though? Not bad.
For England's future national team coach, Gareth Southgate, to actually relegate such a solid squad—Yang Cheng could only tip his hat in admiration.
And the Biggest Name at Middlesbrough Is None Other Than International Winger Stewart Downing
But with the current depth of Bayswater Chinese's wingers, if Yang Cheng so much as hesitated for even a second over Stewart Downing, it would be nothing short of betrayal—to Vice King of the Ball, the British Twin Stars, and King Zha himself.
If West Bromwich Albion and Middlesbrough could be considered modest, working-class clubs with limited strength, then let's take a look at Newcastle.
Yang Cheng genuinely couldn't figure out how a team like that managed to get themselves relegated.
Coloccini, Bassong, José Enrique, James Milner, Joey Barton, Damien Duff, Geremi, Gutiérrez, Kevin Nolan, N'Zogbia, Xisco, Viduka, Michael Owen, Martins...
Say whatever else you want—just look at that lineup. Which one of those players wasn't a well-known, battle-tested force in European football?
Which one didn't have solid ability?
Yet somehow, this very team still got themselves relegated while playing for Newcastle.
Sure, James Milner and a few others left midway through the season, which did hurt them—but Newcastle had already laid the groundwork for their own collapse long before that.
Honestly, Yang Cheng still couldn't make sense of it.
Now that Newcastle had dropped down, their squad was bound to be picked apart.
Martins, Bassong, Duff, Beye—all in high demand.
And then there was Michael Owen.
Yang Cheng had always found it odd in his past life that Ferguson chose to sign Michael Owen.
But after their last chat, it became clear—the two had been flirting behind the scenes for quite some time.
So now, it was almost certain Owen would be heading to Manchester United.
As for Yang Cheng, his eye was on another player entirely.
Just as he was mulling over whether to make a move, the phone beside him rang.
It was Xia Qing.
She informed Yang Cheng that Yang Jianguo's delegation had safely arrived in London and were staying at the Royal Lancaster Hotel.
"Uncle wants to invite you to dinner and introduce you to the group!"
"Great, I'll head over now."
Of course Yang Cheng wouldn't say no.
These were walking bags of money here to fund him—naturally, they had to be wined and dined properly.
…
Cobham, South London.
Chelsea's training base sat nestled among a cluster of golf courses.
Yang Cheng had even made a joke about it to Gareth Bale in the team locker room.
Result?
He cracked up laughing by himself while everyone else, including Bale, looked completely lost.
Boss, that joke was ice cold!
Not funny at all.
Yeah, Gareth Bale wasn't obsessed with golf just yet.
Still, the atmosphere at Chelsea's Cobham training ground had indeed become rather tense lately.
Especially when Roman Abramovich's motorcade slowly pulled into the training center—players watched nervously from the lounge, anxiety written all over their faces.
This was the first time since taking over the club that Abramovich had missed out on Champions League qualification.
The media were in a frenzy, and public opinion was boiling. Everyone expected Chelsea to go through a sweeping overhaul and major shakeup this summer, and the entire squad was on edge.
If there was one person at Chelsea whose position was most secure from top to bottom...
It had to be Head Coach Guus Hiddink.
Abramovich had practically begged the Dutchman to stay on.
Even the Daily Mail, which was closely connected to Chelsea, conducted a fan survey, showing that over 90% of Chelsea fans hoped Hiddink would remain.
But Hiddink never wavered on his decision to leave.
Per his contract, once he finished managing the FA Cup Final this weekend, he would officially step down.
The media were anxious. Chelsea fans were anxious. But no one was more anxious than the players themselves.
When Abramovich entered the training building, he went straight to Hiddink's office.
He came alone.
Apart from his ever-present assistant Marina Granovskaia, even Peter Kenyon and Pini Zahavi didn't accompany him.
That in itself made a clear statement.
Hiddink welcomed Abramovich into his office, and Granovskaia quietly closed the door behind them.
Straight to the point.
"Guus, my friend," Abramovich said, sitting down on the couch and locking eyes with the Dutchman, "it's just the three of us here—you, me, and her. Tell me—what will it take for you to stay?"
Over the years, his ties with PSV Eindhoven had grown close, and his relationship with Hiddink was particularly strong.
Hiddink paused for a moment, gave a helpless smile, gestured for Granovskaia to take a seat, then sat down himself on the opposite sofa.
"Roman, I'll be honest with you. On the surface, Chelsea still looks strong, but in truth, there are quite a few issues. The challenges are real."
Abramovich squinted slightly. "You're not confident about the FA Cup Final this weekend?"
"All I can say is, the players and I will give it our all," Hiddink replied, sidestepping the question.
After a sigh, the Dutchman added, "Bayswater Chinese are just too strong."
"In today's European football, only Barcelona might be able to match them."
That caught Abramovich off guard.
If it were just media or fans saying that, he'd think it was hype.
But Hiddink—his friend—saying it in private, directly to his face, told him it was the real deal.
At the very least, among the pros in European football—especially someone of Hiddink's caliber—this was the truth.
"But it's just this season," Abramovich said. "Look at their situation now. After this summer, they'll fall apart. In fact, tell me—which player from Bayswater Chinese do you like? I'll poach him!"
Hiddink chuckled. "Gareth Bale, Di María, or Walcott—get me at least one of those three!"
Abramovich instantly looked troubled.
Those three were Yang Cheng's beloved gems, direct products of Bayswater Chinese's youth academy.
It wasn't going to be easy.
"I'm not speaking in vague terms, Roman—I'm serious," Hiddink said, his smile fading, voice now earnest.
"You know, during Mourinho's time, Chelsea was a team with rock-solid defense and explosive counterattacks."
"Our defense could absorb pressure, and we'd strike with lethal precision at the right moments."
"Why can't we do that now?"
Still seated, Hiddink turned, reached behind to his desk, grabbed a pen and paper, and began sketching a simple diagram of a football pitch right in front of Abramovich.
"This season, Bayswater Chinese made a very interesting tactical shift—one that almost no media outlet picked up on."
"Yang Cheng's team initiates attacks right around the edge of their own penalty area."
"Their transition from defense to offense is lightning quick. The moment they lose the ball up front, they immediately drop back into a structured, layered defense."
"The goal is to bait the opponent into pressing forward. So once they recover the ball, there's always a massive space available in attack."
"But you probably didn't notice—back in Mourinho's era, Chelsea also initiated attacks from deep. We were a defensive powerhouse. Not exactly a traditional counterattacking side, but close enough."
"Data tracking back then wasn't as advanced, so I couldn't back it up with stats, but during my time coaching Chelsea, this was exactly how we played. That's why our defense is still solid."
"And Everyone Outside Thinks We've Gone Back to the Mourinho Era"
Hiddink's words left Abramovich a little dazed—not entirely sure he understood, but at the same time, feeling like he did.
It all sounded impressive. Sharp. Right on the mark.
"But do you know what the biggest difference is between us and Bayswater Chinese?"
Abramovich shook his head.
"Speed," Hiddink said with finality.
"Speed?"
"During Mourinho's time, we had players like Robben and Duff—lightning quick. Bayswater Chinese now have Di María, Gareth Bale, and Walcott—blistering speed."
On the pitch diagram he had drawn earlier, Hiddink sketched a line stretching from just outside his own penalty box all the way to the opposition goal.
"From here to here—that's a long distance. If you don't have speed, by the time our players get up there, the opposing defense will already be in place, waiting."
"What makes Yang Cheng's team better than Mourinho's Chelsea is that their midfield and backline players all possess excellent passing and combination play—especially quick passes and long balls."
"We had Robben and Duff back then, so we could do it too. And if push came to shove, even Drogba could drop deep to link up. But now, aside from Drogba, we have nothing."
"And worst of all, Drogba is often injured."
Hiddink had completely laid out Chelsea's problems over the past year or two.
"So, what are you saying?" Abramovich asked, locking eyes with him.
"Two options. Either we stick with the current squad and push the defensive line forward to shorten the attacking distance."
"Or we bring in attackers and passers with real pace."
If Yang Cheng had been present, he would've smacked his thigh and praised Hiddink's analysis to the heavens.
It was that deep!
Later, when Ancelotti took over, he chose the former path—pushing the backline up and reducing the transition distance.
He also focused on improving midfield passing and control.
So much so that even Essien showed a surprising level of playmaking ability during that time.
The latter approach would have been a return to Mourinho's blueprint.
But Hiddink wasn't Mourinho—and he definitely wasn't Ancelotti. He had no intention of copying Mourinho's system, and he wasn't suited for Ancelotti's passing-heavy style either.
Abramovich knew full well—Hiddink had never been a possession-style coach, and high defensive lines weren't part of his game.
So if they wanted to keep Hiddink, the only viable path was the second one.
Let him continue building upon what he had started this season, making improvements and refining the squad.
"Who do you want to sign?" Abramovich asked, getting straight to the point.
"If we can't poach a winger from Bayswater Chinese, then I'd recommend going after Ribéry from Bayern, Sneijder from Real Madrid, Agüero from Atlético, Villa from Valencia, or Eto'o from Barça."
Of all the players Hiddink listed, only Sneijder would come remotely affordable. The rest were all incredibly expensive.
As soon as he finished, Marina Granovskaia spoke up first.
"According to industry sources, Florentino Pérez has already approached Bayern in private about Ribéry."
"Bayern's asking price is €100 million."
€100 million?
Abramovich and Hiddink exchanged glances.
They both understood—at that price, Bayern clearly had no intention of selling Ribéry.
"I've also heard that Ferguson is eyeing Sneijder—after all, Giggs and Scholes are getting on," Marina added.
Top players always draw attention.
As a Dutchman, Hiddink knew better than anyone just how good Sneijder was.
As for Agüero, Villa, and Eto'o—they were all forwards, all with exceptional speed and explosive power.
Sure, Anelka was pretty good too—but compared to those three, he still came up short.
In some ways, Eto'o was the best fit.
Back in the previous summer, Barça had been shopping him around everywhere.
They had wanted to sell Eto'o to make way for Zlatan Ibrahimović.
Guardiola had been coveting the Swedish striker for quite some time.
At one point, rumors even said that Barça planned to offer Eto'o plus cash to get Ibrahimović.
It was considered a ludicrous idea.
I mean—Eto'o was a world-class striker. To trade him and add money for a notoriously inconsistent scorer like Ibra?
But now, apparently, Guardiola had changed his mind. His new first choice was Džeko from Bayswater Chinese.
The Bosnian striker was on fire—far more dominant than Ibrahimović.
"I'll go back and have our technical team evaluate everything carefully," Abramovich said, not giving a definitive answer right away.
In recent years, he had gone through his share of setbacks.
A divorce. The global financial crisis. Both had hit his fortune hard.
Now, he was seriously considering tightening his spending.
And this season—bam, straight out of the top four.
All thanks to that damn Yang Cheng!
"Guus, no matter what we ultimately decide, and regardless of the FA Cup final result—we want you to stay!" Abramovich said sincerely.
Hiddink gave a slight nod but didn't commit on the spot.
He knew Chelsea might look strong on paper, but beneath the surface, there were serious risks.
And the fact that Abramovich came here himself, without even bringing CEO Peter Kenyon, gave Hiddink a hunch that the CEO's position might be on shaky ground.
…
While preparing for both the FA Cup and Champions League finals, Yang Cheng was pretty much sticking to his two-point routine: home and Brent training center.
The only interruption was a dinner with his old man, along with a visit to the new stadium site with the delegation from China.
A year had passed, and the project was still at the foundation stage.
The biggest headache? The stadium itself.
Not only did Yang Cheng want sunken seating tiers, but he also insisted on foldable turf.
To meet this demand, Norman Foster and his team even invited mechanical engineering experts from Cambridge University to assist in the planning and design.
Eventually, they came up with a viable plan.
Even Norman Foster was left speechless.
Because the addition of foldable turf and an underground maintenance center would increase the cost by tens of millions of pounds and make future maintenance much more complex.
But Yang Cheng, Xia Qing, Adam Crozier, and Omar Berrada held a special meeting, and even hired a third-party consulting firm.
Their conclusion?
The commercial return would far outweigh the investment.
Spending more now meant long-term convenience—it was a good deal!
Yang Cheng had also begun collaborating with two major Chinese sponsors—TLC and Huawei—focusing on the development of curved LED perimeter screens.
Huawei had even gotten involved as early as the stadium's concept design stage, using their telecommunications and network expertise to help create a smarter, more futuristic dream stadium.
For example, it would become the first stadium in the world equipped with full-scale in-stadium Wi-Fi!
Huawei hoped to use this partnership to showcase their advanced technical capabilities to the world.
Yang Jianguo's group specifically watched the concept video produced by Norman Foster's firm.
It gave them a clear, intuitive view of the dream stadium—and the immense value in the surrounding areas.
Combined with the Stadium's Location
Previously, his cheap old man had kept things tightly under wraps, but this time, accompanying him on the UK inspection tour were also senior executives from the famous Hong Kong-based Peninsula Hotel Group, who had long been interested in establishing a luxury hotel in London.
Sure, ultra-luxury hotels weren't places the average person could afford to stay, but with such an outstanding geographic advantage, the location was undeniably appealing.
In the words of the Peninsula Hotel Group: "Second only to being beside Buckingham Palace."
Maybe even on par with Knightsbridge.
"This place will absolutely become a new landmark—not just in London, but globally!"
The Peninsula Group was hoping to outright buy one of the buildings.
But Yang Cheng firmly stated: lease only, not for sale!
What kind of joke was that?
Yes, Bayswater Chinese might be short on cash now, but a sale is a one-and-done deal.
If he leased it out, he could sit back with his legs crossed at home and still receive annual rental income.
This was about long-term gains!
Clearly, his cheap old man had planned this ahead of time. This time, he'd partnered with China's largest luxury department store chain, and they were looking to rent the building right next to the Bayswater Underground Station, southeast of the stadium.
"Ah Cheng, we're father and son. Sooner or later, everything I have will be yours—you've gotta promise me this!"
Yang Jianguo pulled Yang Cheng aside to play the emotional card. "Besides, wasn't it me who bought that piece of land in the first place?"
"But you totally botched it back then," Yang Cheng countered, helpless.
Yang Jianguo nearly lost it.
You don't slap a man in the face—especially not your own dad!
"Alright, alright, Dad. Let me speak from the heart for a moment," Yang Cheng softened his tone.
"Go ahead."
"What's most important now is to lock down Bulgari Hotel. They're very interested at the moment. If we secure them first, just think how much that'll raise the value of the entire lot."
Yang Jianguo, being a seasoned real estate player, caught on immediately. He understood this better than anyone.
"So we have to let them pick first."
"Exactly, Dad. But don't worry. I'll have Adam Crozier try his best to reserve the building by the subway entrance for you. But if Bulgari absolutely insists on it... then I might not have a choice."
"It's fine. I get it now," Yang Jianguo nodded.
After a pause, he pointed to another building in the distance. "Actually, that southwest one isn't bad either. It's close to Bayswater Road and not far from Bayswater Station, Queensway, and Notting Hill."
All four buildings in the project were located in prime spots—choosing between them was just a matter of picking the best of the best.
"Ah Cheng, have you ever thought... putting our club office right next to the new stadium—don't you think it's a bit too luxurious?" Xia Qing asked cryptically once Yang Jianguo had left.
"You mean…"
"After working with Bulgari, Peninsula, Hilton and the rest for a while, I've realized they all have high expectations for this location. I think we should lease out the building originally intended for our office."
"I've had someone do a preliminary estimate. Each building could fetch about £10 million a year in rent—across all four, that's £40 million annually."
Yang Cheng's eyes lit up.
That's basically making money in your sleep!
"Now think about our current office. We're paying £1 million a year in rent."
Xia Qing gestured with her hands like: "Compare £1 million to £10 million—think about it."
Yang Cheng was instantly moved.
That's a difference of £9 million right there.
"You know the current climate. The London real estate market is in a slump. It's not just businesses—governments are struggling too."
"What have you heard?" Yang Cheng knew Xia Qing too well.
"Chris Hunter told me—lots of government departments are strapped for cash. What do they do? Sell buildings."
"You want to buy them?"
"Just hear me out," Xia Qing smiled and stopped him. "After they sell, they still need office space, right? So they have to rent it back."
And that's when it all clicked for Yang Cheng.
So, basically, government offices were selling buildings to raise cash, then renting them back and paying annual rent.
"Chris Hunter and I ran the numbers. Right now, it's a buyer's market. If we choose well and keep rental returns at around 5% annually, it's very feasible. In fact, we might even eliminate our own office rental costs."
Put simply—become a sub-landlord.
"But we're building a new stadium, and now you're talking about buying property—what about the banks...?"
"We don't buy under the club's name. We start a company under our names and let that company buy the property. Then lease it to the club."
Yang Cheng was a little lost, but it sounded impressive.
Being a sub-landlord didn't seem so bad, actually.
And Chris Hunter was a master at buying up distressed assets. If you had access to that kind of info, you'd be a fool not to use it.
"I'm on board. You handle it. But keep the location close—not too far. Stick to West London. We know this area well."
At this point, Bayswater Chinese had become a household name not just in Westminster, but all of West London.
In both political and business circles, they had the connections and the resources.
"If you're in, I'll get to work on it," Xia Qing was delighted to have Yang Cheng's support.
But Yang Cheng was also reminded of something else.
After the Eurozone debt crisis, football clubs across Europe were struggling financially.
Club bankruptcies were happening left and right.
Could this be the perfect time to buy up a few?
Like how the Abu Dhabi group built City Football Group, or the Pozzo family, or Red Bull?
As long as they're not in the same league, it wouldn't be an issue.
And the benefits of operating multiple clubs under one group were obvious.
Especially for someone like Yang Cheng.
But he quickly set aside that tempting thought—for now.
Bayswater Chinese hadn't even fully stabilized yet.
Everything would have to wait until the new stadium was completed.
When Bayswater Chinese reached a stable growth phase, when income normalized, and when the debt burden eased—then Yang Cheng would have the funds to go after that goal.
…
Weekend, Wembley Stadium, London.
FA Cup Final: Bayswater Chinese vs. Chelsea.
The guest list for this final was impressive.
Aside from Prince William representing the royal family, former UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan was also in attendance.
Before the match, Annan—accompanied by FA Chairman David Triesman—walked onto the pitch and greeted both teams' players.
It was Yang Cheng's first time meeting the former Secretary-General, and he personally introduced every Bayswater Chinese player to him.
Hiddink did the same for Chelsea.
It's worth noting that Chelsea midfielder Michael Essien was a fellow countryman of Annan's—the two even shared a brief conversation.
For this match, Chelsea stuck with their signature 4-3-3 formation.
Goalkeeper: Cech
Defense: Ashley Cole, Terry, Alex, Bosingwa
Midfield: Mikel as holding midfielder, with Lampard and Essien ahead
Forwards: Malouda, Drogba, and Anelka
Hiddink had clearly fielded his strongest possible lineup.
Yang Cheng also deployed a 4-3-3 formation.
Goalkeeper: Begović
Defense: Marcelo, José Fonte, Kompany, and Piszczek
Midfield: Matić as holding midfielder, with Matuidi and Aaron Ramsey in the center
Forwards: Hazard, Lewandowski, and Walcott
As soon as the match began, Bayswater Chinese launched the first attack, taking the initiative.
They Were Incredibly Familiar with Wembley Stadium
Even though 45,000 of the 90,000 spectators in the stadium were Chelsea fans, Bayswater Chinese still treated this as their home ground.
Strike first!
That was Yang Cheng's tactic against Chelsea.
Because the last thing he wanted was to wait until Hiddink's team had settled into their rhythm and tightened their defense before trying to break them down—that would be the worst-case scenario.
What Yang Cheng wanted was to use the opening moments to go all-out and break Chelsea's defense right from the start.
Just 25 seconds into the game, Marcelo overlapped down the left flank and sent a through pass.
Hazard beat the offside trap, dribbled past Bosingwa on the left, and whipped in a cross toward Lewandowski.
But the ball was cleared out of the box by Terry.
Aaron Ramsey received the ball outside the area and lobbed a pass over the defense to the right side of the box.
Walcott darted in diagonally and struck it first-time.
Cech calmly smothered the shot.
But the pressure from Bayswater Chinese didn't stop.
Just three minutes later, Walcott earned a corner on the right.
Unfortunately, it didn't result in a threat.
In the 8th minute, Bosingwa fouled Hazard from behind while defending him and received a yellow card from the referee.
A defender getting booked within the first 8 minutes—it spoke volumes about the pressure Bayswater Chinese had applied early on.
Even though the squad featured many young and backup players, this was their second FA Cup Final.
To be blunt, their experience in finals already surpassed Chelsea's.
Bayswater Chinese attempted a quick free-kick, but Alex cleared the ball.
However, it didn't cross the halfway line.
José Fonte, positioned in Chelsea's half near the left side of the center circle, intercepted the clearance.
Anelka and Drogba immediately rushed toward him.
But the Portuguese center-back remained composed and slipped a diagonal pass right between them.
Matić arrived to receive the ball, played it first-time out to the left.
Marcelo burst down the left sideline in great strides.
Hazard shifted inside into the half-space.
As Bosingwa closed in, Marcelo sent a horizontal pass to Hazard.
The young Belgian now stood at the edge of Chelsea's penalty box on the left.
Lewandowski was near the penalty spot, turned sideways to the goal, waiting for Hazard's next move.
Essien and Mikel quickly tracked back to the edge of the box.
Essien, in particular, stepped up to press.
Hazard wanted to dribble through but found no opening.
He turned toward Marcelo, but Bosingwa was still lurking.
So Hazard pivoted gracefully, scanned the center, and spotted Aaron Ramsey making a run.
He passed it to Ramsey, who faced goal at the top of the arc.
Ramsey spotted Lewandowski making a move behind the defense and, just before Mikel and Lampard could close him down, lofted a chip pass aiming to drop it behind Chelsea's backline for the Polish striker.
But just then, Terry stepped in first and headed the ball away.
It dropped again just outside the box, near the right side of the D.
Because Lampard had been closing in on Ramsey, Chelsea's right side was momentarily exposed.
Lampard rushed back and prepared to clear it, but Walcott reacted faster.
He lunged forward and blocked Lampard's clearance with a full-body stretch, sending the ball ricocheting back into the penalty area.
Lampard raised his right hand, claiming a handball by Walcott.
But referee Howard Webb ignored the protest.
The ball fell to the right side of the box, behind Chelsea's defense.
Lewandowski pounced immediately.
But the Polish striker realized he was in an offside position—he had pushed up earlier and hadn't dropped back.
Thinking quickly, he froze in place and didn't touch the ball.
That freeze caused a moment of confusion for Terry.
Walcott, cutting in from the right, charged onto the bouncing ball and struck it on the half-volley.
The ball skimmed just inside the right post and drilled into Chelsea's net!
"GOAL!!!"
"In the 9th minute, Walcott breaks the deadlock for Bayswater Chinese!"
"Chelsea players are surrounding referee Howard Webb, protesting that it was a handball by Walcott and possibly an offside."
"But Webb firmly shakes his head—goal stands! He points to the center circle to restart the game."
"It really was hard to see clearly in real-time."
"On the replay, we can see Walcott turned sideways to block Lampard's clearance, with his hands tight against his body. Even though the ball struck him, it's clearly not a handball."
"As for the offside—Lewandowski never touched the ball. He smartly held his run."
"The only remaining argument is that Lewandowski obstructed Terry."
"But Lewandowski claims he wasn't trying to block Terry—he was chasing the ball, realized he was offside, and stopped in time."
"It's a reasonable explanation."
"Referee Webb accepted Bayswater Chinese's explanation and confirmed the goal."
"1–0!"
"Scored by Walcott—the Little Tiger!"
"9th minute, a crucial lead for Bayswater Chinese!"
Hiddink raged on the touchline, furious at what he believed was an unfair call.
But Bayswater Chinese fans in the stadium were ecstatic, cheering and singing without pause.
…
After scoring the opener, Bayswater Chinese didn't back off—instead, they pressed harder.
Yang Cheng had been coaching this team for six years.
You could say his will and spirit had completely permeated the squad, influencing every player.
At this point, he didn't even need to leave the technical area—the players already knew exactly what he wanted.
In the 13th minute, Bayswater Chinese created another chance.
Again, it came down the left.
Marcelo surged forward and delivered a precise through ball.
Hazard raced into the left side of the box, shielding the ball from Bosingwa but unable to cut in. He had to pull it back.
He returned it to Marcelo, who had moved into the half-space.
Essien stepped up, but Marcelo slipped the ball to Matuidi.
Then—bang!
The French midfielder took a surprise long shot.
It came out of nowhere, so fast that Chelsea's defenders didn't even have time to react. The ball rocketed toward goal.
Cech made an effort to reach it—but couldn't.
Unfortunately, the shot sailed just over the bar and into the stands.
Bayswater Chinese fans responded with another round of thunderous applause.
Matuidi's long-range strike gave the entire Chelsea squad a huge scare.
Hiddink walked to the sideline, nervously barking out tactical adjustments.
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