What makes a football club a giant?
Ask ten thousand supporters and you would probably receive ten thousand different answers.
History mattered.
Trophies mattered.
Support mattered.
Money mattered.
Prestige mattered.
But one thing was certain: almost every ambitious club eventually wanted to reach that level.
Once a club entered Europe's elite, everything changed.
Expectations rose.
Competition became harsher.
Squads became deeper.
And players who would be undisputed starters almost anywhere else could suddenly find themselves spending half a season on the bench.
Real Madrid were the obvious example.
Guti, Morientes and Solari were all good enough to start for countless clubs across Europe, yet Madrid could afford to use them as alternatives.
Guti had come through their own academy and possessed extraordinary technical ability, but there had hardly been a season in which he was guaranteed a place.
That did not stop Madrid from buying more talent.
Their new coach, Vanderlei Luxemburgo, had already pushed for the signing of Júlio Baptista from Sevilla, one of La Liga's most sought-after players from the previous season.
Manchester United were no different.
Diego struggled to displace Scholes.
Saha and Alan Smith were both established Premier League forwards, yet Ferguson still preferred Rooney and Van Nistelrooy whenever both were fit.
Chelsea had the same problem.
So did Inter, Milan, Juventus and Bayern.
Every major club possessed more good players than it could field at once.
That could look wasteful from the outside.
In reality, it was necessary.
A club trying to compete seriously in the league, domestic cups and Europe could not survive with eleven starters and a collection of emergency replacements.
Newcastle had learned that lesson painfully.
Their performances collapsed after being stretched across domestic football and the UEFA Cup.
Everton now faced a similar problem.
Qualifying for Europe was an achievement, and David Moyes had no intention of treating the competition casually.
But Everton did not have the resources to build two strong teams.
If they failed to strengthen properly, European football could damage their league campaign just as easily as it enhanced the club's reputation.
That was why Ethan had always insisted on two reliable players for every position at New Manchester United.
Even goalkeeper, the position least affected by ordinary rotation, needed proper cover.
That was why the club had gone to the trouble of bringing in Kasey Keller.
The commercial value of signing the United States' first-choice goalkeeper was useful.
It was not the reason for the transfer.
Čech might play fifty matches in a season.
But if he were injured before a Champions League semi-final, New Manchester United still needed somebody capable of stepping in without the entire defensive structure collapsing.
Mourinho had spent years developing a rotation system around that principle.
The results were obvious.
New Manchester United could compete on several fronts because the second-choice players were still good enough to win major matches.
And results were what eventually transformed an ambitious club into an elite one.
The cycle reinforced itself.
Strong squads produced consistent results.
Consistent results produced trophies.
Trophies increased revenue and commercial influence.
Higher revenue allowed the club to pay better wages and recruit stronger players.
Those players strengthened the squad again.
The richest and best-run clubs therefore became increasingly difficult to dislodge.
The effect was visible across European football.
Mid-table and smaller clubs increasingly developed players who were later bought by bigger sides.
In Spain, the imbalance could be particularly severe.
The Premier League was somewhat healthier because even clubs lower down the table enjoyed comparatively strong broadcasting income.
But the hierarchy remained.
Football operated like a pyramid.
At the top sat a small group of clubs competing for the most valuable players and the biggest trophies.
Below them were the rest of the top-flight sides.
Further down came the lower divisions.
And the higher a player climbed, the more ruthless the competition became.
That was why some footballers looked exceptional at smaller clubs and ordinary after joining a giant.
There was less time.
Less patience.
Less space for mistakes.
And much stronger competition for every position.
Gerard López was one example.
Barcelona had developed him in their own academy but never truly established him at Camp Nou.
He moved to Valencia, became one of the most highly rated young midfielders in Spain and was eventually bought back by Barcelona for around €24 million.
The return never worked.
Now he was being moved on again.
That was life at a major club.
Talent alone was not enough.
Financial strength was another unavoidable part of the equation.
A club without money could have history.
It could have supporters.
It could even enjoy a brilliant season.
But sustaining elite status over years required income.
That was why Wenger had accepted several seasons of financial restriction while Arsenal built a new stadium.
Highbury had history.
The new ground would provide scale.
Once completed, Arsenal would gain a much larger and more stable stream of matchday income every year.
New Manchester United had already begun to understand the same effect.
The commercial activity surrounding the club's new stadium was generating more than £15 million annually before even accounting for ordinary ticket revenue.
At normal transfer-market prices, £15 million could buy a very good first-team player.
And the stadium was only one source of income.
At a commercial review shortly after the Champions League final, Mark Davey's department laid out the numbers.
"The direct revenue from winning the Champions League was approximately £33 million," one executive explained. "Once broadcasting distributions, sponsorship bonuses, commercial growth and increases in player value are included, the wider financial benefit should exceed £80 million."
Ethan looked up.
Even he had not expected the number to be that large.
Coventry University had published an estimate before the final suggesting that the eventual winner could gain more than £100 million in total economic value.
Some of that was immediate.
Prize money.
Broadcasting income.
Matchday revenue.
The rest would arrive gradually through sponsorship renewals, merchandising, overseas exposure and increased commercial leverage.
For New Manchester United, the result was enormously significant.
The club had already improved several players' contracts during the season.
Those wage rises would not threaten financial stability.
If anything, the Champions League victory meant Ethan could continue increasing investment in the charitable foundation, academy, training infrastructure and performance departments without compromising the first team.
What surprised him most was how effectively the commercial department had learned to exploit success.
In his previous life, he remembered reading comparisons between different European champions.
Porto's 2004 triumph had generated relatively modest additional commercial income.
Liverpool's following success had been worth far more.
AC Milan, with their global brand and commercial reach, had been capable of extracting even greater value from a European title.
The lesson had always been clear.
Winning the same trophy did not produce the same financial return for every club.
Brand strength mattered.
Market reach mattered.
Commercial organisation mattered.
New Manchester United were now demonstrating that difference themselves.
The executives continued.
"The impact is not limited to the club. Greater Manchester should receive more than £10 million in additional economic activity associated with the victory, including tourism, retail spending, hospitality and sponsorship-related business."
"Istanbul benefited even more."
The final had allocated roughly 21,000 tickets to each club.
That meant at least 42,000 travelling supporters had arrived from abroad before neutral supporters were even counted.
Hotels filled.
Restaurants filled.
Taxi usage rose.
Bars, shops and local businesses benefited.
One internal estimate put the direct benefit to Istanbul at more than £35 million.
Another suggested the figure could be closer to £40 million.
Then came the broadcast numbers.
"More than twenty million people in Britain watched the final," the executive said. "Globally, the audience was around one hundred million."
"The wider economic activity attached to the event could exceed £200 million."
Ethan listened with mixed emotions.
Modern elite football had become an extraordinary economic machine.
That scale created opportunity.
It also created danger.
Money increasingly determined who could remain competitive.
Abramovich had transformed Chelsea in only two seasons through massive investment.
Manchester City, backed by Abu Dhabi, were now preparing to do something similar.
Ethan had never wanted New Manchester United to depend on that model.
He wanted the club to generate its own strength.
That was why so much attention had gone into developing players rather than simply buying established stars every summer.
The Touré brothers had arrived young.
Messi had been developed internally.
Curtis had grown with the club.
So had many others.
That model was more sustainable.
Winning the Champions League strengthened it even further.
The commercial department believed Mourinho could be given a summer transfer budget of as much as £50 million without placing any strain on the club's finances.
Ironically, Mourinho showed very little interest in spending it.
The manager who, in another life, Ethan remembered as being associated with expensive squads had become surprisingly selective.
Before leaving for his holiday, Mourinho had sat down with Ethan and the football department to discuss the right-back situation.
Micah Richards had progressed enormously at Droylsden.
Mourinho liked him.
But he did not yet trust the teenager enough to make him Maicon's principal competition in a Champions League-winning side.
That led to a decision.
Dani Alves would return from Benfica.
The Brazilian had spent two seasons in Portugal and had become one of the best right-backs in the league.
His performances in Benfica's UEFA Cup campaign had pushed his market value towards £15 million.
New Manchester United could recall him for a fraction of that.
Under the cooperation agreement between the two clubs, Benfica would receive approximately €2.5 million in development compensation.
A similar arrangement had already applied when Thiago Silva moved permanently to AC Milan.
New Manchester United had paid Benfica another €2.5 million in recognition of the development work completed during his loan.
The system benefited both clubs.
New Manchester United could place young players somewhere they were likely to play meaningful first-team football.
Benfica filled genuine squad needs without paying large transfer fees.
If the player developed successfully, Benfica received compensation when he returned or moved elsewhere.
It was not free labour.
It was a partnership.
And after two years, the results spoke for themselves.
Dani Alves had developed into a major European prospect.
Thiago Silva had become good enough to earn a €15 million move to Milan.
Both had helped Benfica reach the UEFA Cup final.
Although Benfica ultimately lost to Liverpool, the season had still been extremely successful.
The Portuguese club had benefited from two high-level young players while also receiving €5 million in development fees.
New Manchester United had gained one first-team option and one valuable outgoing transfer without needing either player to spend years sitting on the bench at Newton Heath.
The arrangement was working well enough that both clubs wanted to continue it.
New Manchester United's scouting network had already identified another group of South American prospects.
Three Argentines were being prepared for the next stage of the partnership.
Javier Pastore.
Nicolás Otamendi.
Ángel Di María.
The plan was to place them with Benfica, provided the Portuguese club still had suitable openings in the squad.
Benfica welcomed the idea.
The club had come to trust New Manchester United's approach to loans.
Players were not simply sent abroad and forgotten.
Medical and performance staff reviewed their condition regularly.
Scouts attended matches.
The technical department collected video and reports.
When necessary, Newton Heath provided additional training recommendations.
The players remained part of the development system even while living in another country.
Thiago Silva appreciated that.
Even after signing for Milan, he remained openly grateful to New Manchester United for giving him the route into European football.
Without the club's scouting network and the Benfica partnership, his career might have developed very differently.
For Ethan, that was another sign that New Manchester United were approaching a different level.
Becoming a giant was not merely about buying famous players.
It meant possessing enough sporting and financial strength to develop talent across several clubs, compete for the biggest trophies, retain elite players, survive expensive mistakes and keep improving even after success.
The Champions League had opened another door.
New Manchester United were no longer merely trying to reach Europe's elite.
They were beginning to function like they already belonged there.
And Ethan soon discovered that the consequences of that transformation were only beginning.
(To be continued.)