It had been a few days, and Richard was mostly spending his ti either at the hotel or visiting the trailer of future Yahoo and Hilton to discuss his investnt in LA Galaxy.
The verbal agreent with Richard had already been finalized the previous day. Today, he brought along Adam Lewis to finalize the legal aspects of the deal.
All the founding mbers had already given their approval, acknowledging Richard’s proposal and his involvent with LA Galaxy.
Of course, since he only held 10% of the shares, the club still remained under the control of Anschutz Entertainnt Group.
But Richard didn’t mind. He already knew that, for at least the next ten years, MLS would run at a loss. Well, at least not until David Beckham arrived.
By then, MLS would have grown from a struggling league into one of the most promising soccer leagues in North Arica, attracting international players and high-profile coaches. The inclusion of world-renowned stars like Thierry Henry, Zlatan Ibrahimović, and Carlos Vela would help elevate its status.
Back in the present, the franchise fee to enter MLS was around $10 million per team.
Since the league was still in its early planning stages—setting up its structure, securing ownership groups, and outlining operations—it would take at least another year or two before officially kicking off.
"We’re learning from the past," said Lamar Hunt, one of MLS’s key financial backers, during the eting.
This was Richard’s first ti eting him in person.
"The North Arican Soccer League folded in 1984," Hunt continued. "We can’t afford to repeat their mistakes."
Richard nodded, flipping through the briefing docunts, which included a detailed history of the NASL.
That league had operated from 1968 to 1984 and enjoyed a brief boom in the late ’70s, with legends like Pelé, Franz Beckenbauer, and Johan Cruyff drawing global attention. But over-expansion and unsustainable spending had led to its swift collapse.
It reminded Richard of Manchester City under Francis Lee’s managent—few trophies, reckless spending, and little return on investnt.
"That’s why we’ll operate under a single-entity structure," Phil Anschutz added. "And implent a salary cap to keep things sustainable."
Richard frowned at this. Now he understood why MLS would bleed money in its early years. No superstar players, low salary caps, limited international signings, and centralized control over all contracts? It was hardly enticing for talent.
"What about stadiums? Are we investing in our own venues right away? That would be a huge cost," soone asked.
It’s going to take ti—and everyone here is a businessman. Naturally, they want to observe the situation first before jumping in. Don’t forget, soccer is going to be a tough sell in the U.S., especially when it’s up against giants like the NFL and NBA.
"No," another executive replied. "I’ve spoken with the General National Football Foundation. We’ll borrow NFL stadiums first—it’s the safest route for now."
At the end of the day, the investors weren’t taking bold risks. After all, the creation of MLS wasn’t because of expected profits—it was to honor FIFA’s condition for awarding the World Cup: the U.S. had to create a permanent, top-level professional soccer league.
The next item on the agenda was player recruitnt. Currently, there was no established national player pool. They didn’t want one team hoarding all the stars like the Cosmos did in the NASL, nor did they want unsustainable spending—Pelé’s signing in 1975 had been iconic, but also enormously expensive.
So MLS planned to create a system for fair talent distribution, and required each club to operate youth academies. There was, after all, no real developnt pipeline for Arican talent yet.
The eting to set up the league lasted more than four hours, and Richard didn’t stay for all of it.
In his mind, there was no need—what he really wanted to know was how the league would be structured. That way, in the future, when MLS started generating profits, he could possibly establish his own club—just like David Beckham did with Inter Miami.
Richard was busy, and so was Manchester City—especially John Maddock, who had flown to France to et with AS Cannes.
anwhile, O’Neill was also dealing with a series of challenges and responsibilities himself as the current manager of Manchester City.
"...This isn’t going to be easy," O’Neill muttered.
"Wouldn’t it be better to play the younger ones? We’re going to need physicality for the next match," Robertson, his assistant, asked with concern.
Their next opponent?
The Crazy Gang—Wimbledon.
Indeed, they needed more than just skill to face them. Just as Leeds United fans had earned a reputation for extre racism, Wimbledon were infamous for their bruising, no-nonsense, almost boxing-style approach to football—brutal, aggressive, and unapologetically physical.
O’Neill felt a headache coming on just thinking about it. He could already foresee another injury happening to one of his players.
As the year drew to a close, the weather naturally turned colder. But what surprised them most was that the players getting injured weren’t the foreign ones unfamiliar with the English winter. No—it was the hogrown lads, the ones supposedly used to this kind of climate.
With the injuries piling up, the team now leaned heavily on their full-backs and strikers to break down opponents. O’Neill was placing his faith in their creativity and the tactical freedom they’d been given to make things happen on the pitch.
Rebuilding the team during the winter break was always going to be a risk. Only minor tweaks could be made, and at this point, all they could do was experint with the players still available.
Currently, City had to rely on the few midfielders who were still fit: Mike Phelan, Jamie Pollock, Jeff Whitley, Keith Gillespie, and Graham Fenton.
On the other hand, the injury list was a grim sight—Ian Taylor, Tony Grant, Steve Lomas, Ian Ferguson, and Paul Lake were all sidelined.
"Why did it have to be them getting injured at a ti like this?" Robertson sighed, glancing over at O’Neill, who was frowning at the tactical board.
"What’s the update from the physio team?" O’Neill asked.
Robertson shook his head. "At least two weeks—minimum—before any of them can play properly again."
"Then there’s no use complaining," O’Neill muttered. "They won’t be back anyti soon."
He and his staff had pinned high hopes on the loanees Ian Taylor and Tony Grant. But both had gone down with untily injuries just before the year ended, throwing their plans into disarray.
If only they had a complete central midfielder—soone who could sit deep as a playmaker, hold the line defensively, or even go box-to-box. Right now, that kind of versatility felt like a distant luxury.
"Then let’s go with two defensive midfielders in the next match. Keith Curle and Mike Phelan will anchor the back, and Jamie Pollock will partner them this ti." O’Neill said finally.
Up to this point, both Curle and Phelan had logged only around 300 minutes in midfield. One was known for his precise passing, the other for his sharp ability to read the ga.
"We caught them off guard," O’Neill explained. "We played long balls from deep at the back. As long as we can snatch one or two goals in the first half, then we sit back and defend in the second. That’s the strategy."
However, reality often turns out quite different from what you plan.
Deviation.
A tactical shift that’s hard to predict doesn’t automatically lead to victory.
If the opposing team can’t read it, that usually ans it’s never been used before in an actual match. In other words, it’s unfamiliar and untested—not just for them, but for them as well.
If the players on our side can’t coordinate or adapt to the change, it could easily backfire—with disastrous consequences.
Everyone was watching: the players on the pitch, both benches, the ho supporters, and the away fans.
At the end of December 30th, Manchester City were set to face the notorious Crazy Gang—Wimbledon—at Maine Road for their 18th league match. O’Neill was eager to see how his recent tactical adjustnts would hold up in a real test. More than anything, he needed a win to validate and reinforce his new approach.
"Wimbledon is a very dangerous team," O’Neill said as he addressed the players in the dressing room after their warm-up. "But this will be a great test of everything we’ve worked on over the past week."
He paced slowly in front of them, eyes sharp with focus. "Just a few things I want to see out there—be fast, be simple, be direct, and above all, be productive. That’s all I’m asking. Go on, lads. Let’s do this."
After the briefing, the players clapped, stood up, and headed out to the pitch with determination in their steps.
anwhile, across the Atlantic in the U.S., Richard was just settling in and tuning into the radio broadcast. Since Second Division matches weren’t televised, radio was his only way to follow the ga.
"Welco! You’re listening to coverage of the FA Cup’s fourth round—a classic David versus Goliath clash between Second Division Manchester City and Premier League side Wimbledon!"
Monts later, a shout rang through the radio.
"Oh no! Phelan loses the ball—what a costly mistake! Clark seizes the opportunity... but Curle steps in with a crucial challenge! Wait—he’s down! Curle is writhing in pain on the pitch! That has to be a card—he was scissored from behind by Barton!"
"And..."
"That’s it—Warren Barton gets a yellow card and a warning!"
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