"Robbie!"
Robertson shouted urgently from the sidelines as Robbie Savage, still fuming, was being held back by Neil Lennon and Van Boml in the middle of the pitch. The referee wasn’t showing favoritism toward West Ham—his decision was purely based on ensuring the safety of everyone on the field.
Savage’s face was a mask of fury, but there was nothing more he could do. The red card had already been raised. Like it or not, he had to accept the decision and leave the pitch.
"Dumbass!" Robbie Savage cursed as he strode purposefully toward the players’ tunnel. Coach Walford quickly approached him with a jacket to shield him.
Because as he walked toward the tunnel, it really did start to "rain"— coins, lighters, plastic cups, bottles...
Damn it, West Ham fans!
Even Robertson didn’t dare stay on the sidelines any longer. As objects rained down from the stands, he quickly jogged over to the players’ bench—at least there was a roof to shield them there.
O’Neill, already seated, patted Robertson’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. "You did the right thing," he said quietly, his voice low but firm.
There were only a few minutes left in the West Ham vs Manchester City match, and City was already comfortably ahead. Getting dragged into a full-blown conflict now—especially on enemy turf—would be utterly pointless. Worse, it could cost them more than just this ga: disciplinary action, suspensions, fines. Not to ntion the damage to their image.
It simply wasn’t worth it.
PHWEEEEE~
Finally, the match ended. West Ham suffered a crushing defeat at Upton Park, falling 3–0 to a dominant Manchester City side.
It wasn’t a derby match—but the clash between West Ham and Manchester City still descended into chaos, all because of the fans.
A roar of boos filled the stadium. Fortunately, the unrest was limited to small-scale clashes, but even with the tropolitan Police deploying a strong presence to maintain order, they couldn’t prevent tempers from flaring.
Harry Redknapp, in his post-match interview, weakly condemned Manchester City’s "thuggish behavior," blaming their fans for the chaos surrounding Upton Park—leaving everyone speechless.
Of course, that was the pot calling the kettle black. Neither side was composed of gentlen, and it was pointless to argue over who was worse.
Naturally, Robertson—still serving as interim manager—didn’t stay silent. Since this was his last match at the helm with O’Neill already recovered, he didn’t hold back.
"The whole process was clearly captured on cara. The opposing fans invaded the pitch, breaching stadium regulations first. Then they insulted my players. Many of you probably thought he just wanted a photo, but with those insults and aggressive gestures? I didn’t see it that way. He could’ve hard Robbie, and Robbie simply acted first to protect himself."
"Is there any chance City will appeal the red card?"
"Of course. The referee already explained it wasn’t because of what happened on the pitch but due to the pressure coming from the stadium—specifically from the ho fans. I don’t bla the referee for that; he’s a good man."
The reporters quickly took note—Manchester City was planning to appeal.
Sure enough, the mont Richard arrived at Maine Road, he imdiately instructed Marina to prepare the appeal. "And tell PR to prepare a neutral but assertive statent. Sothing like, ’We respect the officials’ decisions but believe this incident warrants further review. This sets a precedent.’"
Marina nodded, already scribbling everything down. "Understood. I’ll loop in legal and comms imdiately."
Richard gave a tight nod and exhaled — but just as he was about to delve into his work, suddenly Marina Granovskaia called out to him.
"What’s wrong?" Richard asked, confused.
"The boy you asked to keep an eye on—he’s already reached out to us," Marina replied.
"Huh? Which one?" Richard grew more confused.
"The one your father told you to recruit. The futsal player," Marina said helplessly.
Only then did Richard realize which boy she ant.
The prodigy—Ronaldinho!
"Is the competition over?"
Originally, Richard intended to recruit Ronaldinho the mont he heard the boy’s na from his father. However, after learning that Ronaldinho would be competing in the U-17 Futsal World Championship in Egypt, he held back.
He wanted Ronaldinho to develop as much as possible before joining Manchester City. Transitioning from futsal or beach football to full-field football isn’t easy—but thankfully, Marina had managed to privately approach Ronaldinho and his family with a generous offer. Thanks to that, everything had gone smoothly so far.
"Apparently, Brazil’s U-17 squad finished their run in the Futsal World Championship. They were knocked out in the quarterfinals. Ronaldinho had a standout performance—scored five goals in the tournant. Word is, he’s already turning heads across Europe." Marina said
Richard smiled faintly. "Of course he is."
He rembered the first ti his father who couldn’t stop raving about a boy who played like he was dancing on air. ’He’s not just a street footballer,’ his father had said. ’He’s pure joy with a ball. Get him before Manchestrr united or Arsenal do.’
Marina crossed her arms. "He said he’s ready."
That line caught Richard off guard.
"He said that?" Richard asked softly.
]Marina nodded. "In his own words: ’If City still wants , I want to co. I’m ready to learn. I’m ready to play real football.’"
The timing couldn’t have been better. The club was entering a new era—O’Neill returning from injury, the team climbing the table, their image growing. And now, this.
"Does the whole family agree?" Richard asked, keeping his voice low.
Legally, this could border on a violation. While the consequences might not be severe, it could certainly deliver a massive blow to both his and Manchester City’s reputation.
Based on what Richard rembered about Ronaldinho’s real-life career, there was a ti when Arsenal had shown serious interest in signing him. However, the move collapsed after Ronaldinho failed to obtain a work permit. As a non-EU player who hadn’t played enough international matches, he didn’t et the criteria set by UK immigration.
After that, there was talk of him joining Scottish Premier League side St. Mirren on loan. But that move also fell through due to his involvent in a fake passport scandal in Brazil. As a result, any imdiate move to a European club collapsed completely.
Richard didn’t know the full details of what had happened—but he definitely didn’t want to repeat the sa mistakes. Especially when it ca to sothing as serious as the fake passport scandal.
Marina Granovskaia nodded gravely. "They can’t wait to get out of the slums, Richard. You don’t realize—because you’ve never seen the favelas up close. When you asked to look into the boy personally, that’s when it hit —how incredibly lucky the kids in Moscow or Manchester really are. In those Brazilian slums, they either make it as footballers and escape... or they end up pawns for drug cartels or local gangs. Compared to that, Manchester is a paradise. Do you know how normal it is for them to be woken up by gunfire at midnight?"
Richard had so understanding of the chaos in South Arica—he’d been there while recruiting Ronaldo’s group. But he had stayed in relatively safer areas. Hearing Marina speak so directly made it hard for him to respond with any certainty.
Unbuttoning his jacket and placing his hands on his hips, Richard closed his eyes for a mont before asking, "How much is this going to cost?"
"To get them to the UK will cost £1.05 million," Marina answered. "Additionally, providing for their living expenses, housing, and job opportunities, I estimate you’ll need to invest over £2 million in the family over the next five years. Honestly, Richard, I feel this is a bit risky—and perhaps not worth it."
Marina cautiously expressed her concerns.
Richard gasped.
£2 million?
Was it worth the risk?
Of course!
This was Ronaldo de Assis Moreira—or simply: Ronaldinho. And unbelievably, the Brazilian prodigy had been scouted by his own father!
After learning about Ronaldinho’s family situation, Marina had hired external scouts in Brazil and began quietly probing for contacts.
The family’s livelihood depended almost entirely on his mother and older brother—but the money his brother earned at Grêmio was barely enough. The Brazilian football market hadn’t yet exploded the way it would a decade later. That’s why so many Brazilian stars were eager to move to Europe. Two decades later, many would choose to stay ho, where salaries beca competitive. But not yet.
Their father had already passed away. There was also a sister in the family. It was a story all too familiar—more than half of Brazil’s football stars shared similarly tragic childhoods.
Richard had only wanted Ronaldinho. But that was impossible. Ronaldinho’s loyalty leaned toward Manchester City because of his family situation—it gave the club leverage.
If Richard wanted to act first, he had to bring the entire family to England, minus the already self-sufficient brother. But money wasn’t the issue.
"Can the immigration office handle that?"
"No problem," Marina replied. "As long as we follow procedure, it’s just a matter of ti. Let the Frank and Gordon handle the paperwork."
"Then help make it happen," Richard said, resolute. "I can’t use club funds—but I’ll arrange sothing privately. I’ll give you £2 million. Just ensure two things: First, once they’re here, the family’s living conditions must be stable—his sister’s school, a job for the mother, whatever they need. No mistakes. Second, Ronaldinho must join City’s U-17 squad. I’m not going to do all this just to see him run off to another club."
After a long pause, Richard made up his mind—channeling that no guts, no glory spirit.
If he’d never discovered Ronaldinho, that was one thing. But now that he had, how could he hesitate?
Even if it ant spending heavily, he had to bring him to Manchester.
Marina blinked in surprise, then looked at Richard with a serious expression. "Are you absolutely sure? This is a £2 million investnt."
If it failed... the consequences wouldn’t just be financial—it’d be personal.
After a mont of silence, Richard clenched his jaw and gave a firm nod.
Marina didn’t say another word. She simply picked up her phone and got to work.
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