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Now reading: Chapter 69: The Scandal from Football Dynasty, a Adventure novel by Antonigiggs.

It had been a year since Richard had been absent from the English football scene, but that didn't an he wasn't keeping up with what was happening at Manchester City.

Even though his shares were blocked, he was still legally the club's majority owner. In fact, the club was required to keep him inford, as he remained the largest shareholder, holding more than 50% of the shares.

During his waiting period, he decided to catch up on everything that had been happening with Manchester City and English football in general.

First, start with the 1992/1993 season, when the newly ford Premier League officially kicked off.

This was the season when Richard's shares were frozen, and his agent license was blocked. Reassessing the situation, he started reading through the faxes one by one.

First, Manchester City was relegated to the Second Division of English football—a bittersweet start for Francis Lee as he began his tenure as the club's owner.

Although City had to look forward to a season of lower league opposition, there was so good news: City had a rebuilding opportunity with less pressure. The potential for promotion could allow for restructuring and long-term planning.

Richard shook his head before flipping to the second page.

Following two disasters that claid many lives in English football over the past five years, all-seater stadiums in the Premiership beca mandatory starting that sa season.

However, the newly seated Kippax was not yet ready. As a result, sellouts of around 25,000 were expected at Maine Road until February 1995, when the Kippax was set to fully open, increasing the capacity to approximately 32,500.

On the third page, there is the issue of the short-term replacent for the manager.

When Peter Swales sacked Peter Reid from his managerial position, he was replaced by Brian Horton. However, following a disappointing season, Horton himself resigned, causing a significant drop in player morale.

Richard was done with it for now and picked up the 1993/1994 season report. But as he glanced at the details of the ongoing season, he was stunned.

"Holy shit," he murmured. The season started with many controversial events.

First, at the season's opening, Chairman Francis Lee hailed the new season by announcing, "There is a great feeling of anticipation in the club that this is going to be our season."

Supposedly, there was no controversy here, but the problem lay with the jersey Francis Lee was wearing. It no longer featured the Umbro logo embroidered on the left chest, but instead had the Kappa logo.

Yes, it ant that the famous sky-blue shirts were now Laser Blue for the new campaign, as the club had signed with Italian kit giants Kappa.

Second, Francis Lee controversially appointed Alan Ball as City's manager to replace Brian Horton, who had resigned. It was a quick decision made by a relatively new chairman who didn't have a long history with the club.

Many observers and supporters even felt that Ball was appointed more for his na and his friendship with the chairman rather than for any credentials as a coach.

To defend his decision, Lee comnted, "Alan Ball says this is the manager's job he has been waiting for and that he is willing to die for the club. If the players go out with the sa determination, we will be on our way."

Richard frowned at this, then flipped to the next page before he was dumbfounded.

It read, "On his first day of training, Ball's wife was upstairs at Platt Lane, waving his World Cup dal to anyone who cared. Nobody did, much. His wife would often be at the training ground. Ball tried to stamp his authority, but having her flash his dal around like Tessa Sanderson at the Olympic Gas did nothing to help the cause."

So of the players weren't as enamored with Ball as Francis Lee, and the climax ca with a player speaking in the dia, saying, "We had no recognizable formation to speak of, and there was general confusion in our play. Unbelievably, it was a poor piece of business by the club, and those thoughts were echoed by our fans, who were also mystified."

Another player said, "In many ways, it put a huge question mark over Ball's judgnt in the minds of many regarding tactics. I had tried to talk to the assistant, but he told the writing had been on the wall, aning Ball was aware...!"

You must know about Cristiano Ronaldo's full interview with Piers Morgan regarding Manchester United. So, yeah, one could say the situation was just like Manchester United at that ti.

The dia joined the fray: The Sun wrote, "Chairman Francis Lee must have been thinking he made a grave mistake by bringing in his forr England teammate and friend, Alan Ball. Those fears increased as City were beaten back-to-back before Christmas, slipping to the lowest position in the second tier of English football!"

A poll run in the Manchester Evening News claid that 83% of callers wanted Francis Lee to stand down, but Lee stated "I have made a commitnt and I am prepared to see it through. I will stick it out as long as the genuine fans want to stay."

Things beca very, very bad when Alan Ball sold all the players who spoke badly about him and instead signed the virtually unknown Martin Phillips from Exeter, a player he claid would beco "the first £10m player!" during the winter transfer market.

The question is, why did things beco very, very bad?

Well, it's simple. During the next match, the Monday after the ga at Stoke, Francis Lee was in the tunnel with Alan Ball when suddenly, one enthusiastic fan in the stadium decided to make a grand acrobatic leap and shouted, "You fucking bastards have got this man the sack!!!"

Did Alan Ball consider resigning? Did Francis Lee admit to his mistake?

The answer is no. What they wanted was a scapegoat, and who better to bla?

They didn't have the money to revitalize the first-team squad, so the brutal cost-cutting asures began, starting with the youth squad. Almost half of City's A-team, along with the B-team players, were not offered contract extensions.

But it didn't stop there.

In a controversial move, all of City's youth team backroom staff were dismissed, including Tony Book, Glyn Pardoe, and John Collins, who had led the City A-team to victory in the FA Youth Cup in 1986.

In front of the dia, Tony Book, Glyn Pardoe, and John Collins appeared and solemnly stated, "The youth section is being made the scapegoat for the club's lack of success."

Following the youth departnt's issues, both n targeted the scouting departnt. Ken Barnes and Ted Davies, along with many of their colleagues, beca targets, with the claim that the players they recruited could not bring Manchester City to the top. Instead, the club was relegated during Peter Swales' reign.

They believed that if the club had not been relegated in the 1992/1993 season, City wouldn't have been in such a dire situation. To summarize, they shifted the bla for their predicant to Peter Swales' managent and those behind him.

Ken Barnes resigned as the chief scout after a mass exodus of scouts who had worked with him for years. He stated, "There are enemies within and without. The quality of my life began to suffer, as did my family's. I have had four years of unfair pressures, and I have even been blad for performances on the pitch, why, I do not know."

The Blues seed to press the self-destruct button when the second half of the 1993/1994 season began.

The losing streak continued, and tension grew in the locker room. The dia had a field day, and City fans barracked the team throughout, chanting, "IT LEFT FEELING SICK~IT LEFT WONDERING~WHY I BOTHER~"

RING!

Before Richard could finish reading, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen of his new Nokia 2110 and saw it was Kelly—or rather, Graham Kelly.

He pressed the answer button, and soon, an anxious voice crackled through the receiver.

"Hello? Mr. Maddox! I'm right outside your door. We really need to talk—"

CLICK!

The line went dead with a sudden click.

Richard sighed as he missed the block function found on modern smartphones. His case was almost guaranteed—70% in his favor. Now, he just needed one final blow to make sure the FA wouldn't interfere with him in the future.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!

Richard glanced up from his desk. Talk about the devil, he thought. He stood up and walked over to the door. When he opened it, he was t with the unexpected sight of UEFA's Legal & Disciplinary Committee mber, Lennart Johansson, standing there with a tense look on his face.

"Kelly just called ," Richard said, stepping aside and motioning for Johansson to co in.

Johansson entered the room, his face a mix of exhaustion and anxiety. He walked straight to the window, glancing left and right at the road below as if checking for anyone following him.

Richard watched him for a mont before speaking. "Coffee?"

Johansson didn't imdiately respond, his eyes still scanning the street below. "Yes, please," he muttered, his voice distant, not even glancing over at him.

Richard didn't mind. He could tell Johansson's mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the case. In fact, this wasn't the first ti they had t in the last few days.

The crux of the problem was simple. For Johansson, the situation had beco more complicated than he'd ever imagined, and it was only getting worse for him personally—and potentially for his career.

The defeat in the Bosman case had already left UEFA's reputation in tatters, and they couldn't afford another scandal. The pressure was mounting, so knowing his chances of winning against Richard were slim, Johansson had already switched sides.

He had quickly reached out to Richard through his legal team, requesting a private eting to discuss anything that could be salvaged.

Without a word, Richard poured the coffee, setting the mug on the side table before he took a seat and leaned against the armrest, patiently waiting for Johansson to finish whatever it was he needed to do.

After ensuring everything was set, Johansson let out a quiet sigh of relief. He then sat down in front of Richard, his hands trembling slightly as he gulped down his coffee.

"Did you bring it?" Richard asked.

Johansson didn't speak. He only nodded. Slowly, he slid a brown envelope across the table to Richard but paused midway.

"Do you promise you won't trouble after this?" Johansson asked, his voice tinged with unease.

Richard was speechless for a mont. "In the first place, you and Kelly were the ones who troubled ."

Indeed, Johansson sighed at this. Kelly had received a large sum of money to suppress Richard, giving Francis ti to take control of Manchester City. In exchange for supporting him, Johansson and his team were granted leeway by Kelly to investigate the Heysel and Hillsborough disasters.

In his mind, it had been a fair trade: a small compromise for the benefit of his career. After all, wasn't it just about keeping things "manageable"?

The good thing was that he hadn't accepted Lee's bribe and had steeled himself, focusing solely on his career. Now, there was just one thing he wished for—that Richard would drop his case. His na was already glaringly attached to it alongside Graham Kelly, so he didn't want the precarious UEFA to sacrifice him in the end.

"Do you plan to expose Francis Lee's bribery to Kelly at the hearing?"

Richard didn't answer imdiately. Instead, he read through each docunt inside the brown envelope one by one. There were two key pieces of information.

The first docunt outlined Francis Lee's bribery, and as Richard read through it, everything began to fall into place. It wasn't just Graham Kelly at the FA—FA Chairman Keith Wiseman and Premier League Chief Executive Rick Parry were also involved in the bribery!

That explained why the FA had so easily interfered in the City's internal affairs, particularly how they had ignored City's covenant to allow Francis Lee to take control of the club by leveraging his frozen shares.

'No wonder,' Richard thought to himself.

The second docunt… As he read it, Richard's mouth twitched. He then slipped the docunt, including the transaction evidence, back into the brown envelope and looked at Johansson seriously.

"I need a favor."

Johansson's heart skipped a beat, but he composed himself. "If it's within my power, I will help."

"Can I still keep my agent license?"

"Impossible. The discussion about dual roles has been going on for a while. In fact..." He paused for a mont, thinking of how to explain it. "Do you know why they never officially implented rules against such a dual role?"

"Why?"

"Because they needed an example—to send a ssage. To the super-rich. You understand what I an, right?"

His chest tightened as he heard the reason. "Tell in detail."

"Actually, this matter is classified at a high level, but whatever. Let get straight to the point. Bernard Tapie of Olympique de Marseille, Christoph Daum of VfB Stuttgart, Brian Hillier of Swindon Town, and Richard Maddox of Manchester City—you're all on FIFA's Ethics and Disciplinary Committee's watchlist. One wrong move, and you'd be dealing with the Court of Arbitration for Sport."

Richard tapped the table anxiously, asking for clarification. "So, to be clear—am I officially under investigation or not?"

"Yes and no," Johansson admitted. "You're being watched, but there's not enough to take action yet. Your shares have always remained below the threshold for a majority stake. But the mont you beco the majority owner, congratulations—your na will officially be on the list."

"Is there any way to clear my na?"

Johansson shook his head firmly. "Either give up your license or sell your shares. The best choice? Stay a minority shareholder. Honestly, you should be thankful that all these years, you've never been directly involved in City's transfer market."

Richard exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "But now that I'm a majority shareholder, does that an—"

"Actually..." Johansson cut him off.. "Your situation isn't that bad. You should thank Kelly, honestly. By keeping you tied up with the hearing, he let Francis Lee run City. If not, you'd already be answering a summons from the Ethics and Disciplinary Inspectors. Also..."

He rubbed his chin before continuing. "I believe there will be a slight delay before the rule is formalized. With so much happening, the FIFA Congress will probably push it back for another year."

"Which ans I still have ti before giving up my license?"

Johansson was speechless upon hearing this. He could only nod.

Richard's shoulders relaxed instantly. "That's fine, then," he said. "Alright, by the way, since you can't do anything about my license, then help with this instead. I need UEFA's consent to challenge the restrictions on how many non-EU players can play in the Premier League."

Johansson's eyes widened. Before he could curse, Richard stopped him. "I don't need UEFA to do it. I just need your support to stay silent when the ti cos."

Johansson gulped. "What do you want to do?"

Richard thought for a mont, deciding honesty would be the easiest route. "Bosman challenged UEFA's restrictive trade practices..." He paused, then continued, "Let's say, while the case is still hot, I want to challenge the maximum number of non-EU players per club in court. You understand what I an, right?"

"FUCK!" Johansson gasped, rising to his feet and pointing at Richard.

Richard could see his hand trembling. He didn't care, though. He watched as Johansson paced back and forth, shaking his head.

"No, this is impossible. You know UEFA insists on a maximum of three foreign players per club, right? Even with Bosman—"

"I don't plan to change the rules forever," Richard emphasized. "I just want to ride the wave. What I need is for UEFA to stay silent when the ti cos."

"What about FIFA? The FA, the Premier League, even the PFA—you're basically challenging all of them!"

"Well, the FA will definitely support to avoid a prolonged legal battle. The Premier League, didn't you rember this?" Richard waved the brown envelope, clearly irritating Johansson.

"But what about FIFA and the PFA?" Johansson shot back.

"Can you help with FIFA?" Richard pressed. "Let's say, if I support them with £10 million, and also UEFA—of course, I won't forget this favor. Another £10 million for UEFA. What do you say?"

"Y-you—" Johansson wanted to protest, but the words got stuck in his throat. He could only mutter, "Aren't you afraid of trouble?"

"Of course, I'm afraid," Richard replied coldly. "But I'm not naive enough to use my na or my company's na to suddenly give out money. You and FIFA can find a way—CSR, fake charities, money remitters, I don't care, as long as my na doesn't appear. And you get your £10 million. How's that?"

Johansson continued to pace back and forth, muttering, "Crazy... crazy..." as he weighed the pros and cons. With £10 million, not even demotion could hold him back. He could use this advantage to rise through the ranks at UEFA.

"What about the PFA?" he asked.

"The Professional Footballers' Association…" Richard thought for a mont before responding, "I think if the FA, Premier League, UEFA, and FIFA all stay silent on this issue, do you really think the PFA will be able to do anything?"

Well, the PFA could do nothing. They could only fight through criticism and complaints in the end. The worst outco? None of City's players would be voted for the PFA Player of the Year or included in the Team of the Year awards—which was perfectly fine.

After all, who would vote for a City player anyway?

With that question, there is nothing to be afraid of, so Richard sealed the deal with UEFA.

Ti passed since then, and night ca so quickly that Richard didn't even realize it, busy as he was with his court case. Since he had additional material, he imdiately sent it to Adam and Nick, as they were his legal team for the trial.

"We have a case that could blow up English football. Which one do you want to drop the bomb on?" Adam Lewis, Richard's lead counsel, smirked as he flipped through the stack of docunts Richard had brought in.

Even Nick grinned. "This is like watching a gossip column co to life, right?"

Richard settled into his chair, resting a hand on his chin in thought. "What do you think? How likely is this to work?"

He then shared his idea—using the first docunt to challenge the restrictions on non-EU players in European competitions.

Nick's eyes widened. "You want to blackmail them?"

Richard nodded without hesitation. "It's just to make them back off for a while."

Adam and Nick exchanged uneasy glances.

"And what if they retaliate?"

"Then I'll pay them off handsoly," Richard said confidently, but his words only made the two lawyers share another uncertain look, montarily at a loss for words.

"I think you've already made up your mind, haven't you?" Nick said after a mont. "Legally, it's possible. The PFA doesn't hold any real power in this matter. The worst you'll face is so criticism, and then it'll all blow over."

"Then it's settled," Richard said, keeping the first docunt for his own use. He carefully placed the second one into a brown envelope before handing it to Adam and Nick for their upcoming trial.

Adam and Nick soon bid farewell and headed to their own rooms, leaving Richard alone to relax.

The three of them were staying at Sofitel Brussels Europe, the only five-star luxury hotel just a short walk from the European Parliant, saving them valuable ti.

RING.

While watching TV, Richard's Nokia 2110 buzzed to life. He glanced at the caller ID and let out a quiet curse—it was Graham Kelly again, the Chief Executive of the FA.

With a sigh, he picked up the call.

"Thank God, I finally reached you," Kelly's voice ca through, tense and urgent. "Mr. Maddox, I'm terribly sorry to disturb you at this hour, but it's —Kelly. I need to speak with you in person. We really need to talk."

Richard remained silent, letting the man ramble.

"Mr. Maddox, we need to clear up so misunderstandings. Mr. Johansson and I have always considered you a friend. There's no need for things to escalate any further. You know we—"

'Oh, poor Kelly'

Kelly's voice faltered as he realized there was no response. A flicker of doubt crept in. Was the line still connected?

"...Hello?"

The silence stretched—an unbearable, suffocating pause.

Kelly groaned in frustration, his patience wearing thin. Unable to endure the silence any longer, he finally snapped, launching into curses and threats.

"Maddox, even if you ruin my career, I have plenty of friends in the FA. I have people backing . If I go down, you won't get off easy either! You still want your license, don't you? So let's make a deal. We'll loosen the regulations, and we can still reach a win-win solution here, and—"

Beep, beep, beep...

"FUCK!!!"

The call had ended. Kelly, seething with frustration, grabbed an ashtray and hurled it across the room with a loud BANG. His breath ca in ragged bursts, his hands trembling as he tried to steady himself. He was cornered now, out of options—except one.

Johansson.

"What the hell is this guy waiting for? Acting like he's untouchable," Kelly muttered under his breath, his fingers jabbing at the keypad as he dialed.

Click.

The call connected. Johansson's voice ca through, sharp and urgent. "How's it going? Did he take the bait?"

"No."

Silence.

That was the only response Johansson got—followed by the sound of slow, heavy breathing. The kind that ca from soone struggling to contain their anger.

"Johansson. Now it's truly just you and . Tell , can your UEFA—"

"Mr. Kelly," Johansson interrupted, "I'm truly sorry, but next week, I'm being reassigned. I probably won't be able to assist further in this case."

Kelly's voice turned cold. "What do you an?"

"…"

"WHAT DO YOU AN?!" Kelly's voice cracked with anger. "Johansson, are you betraying ?!"

Johansson snorted. Betray him? It wasn't him who had caused this ss in the first place. Did Kelly think he was stupid? It wasn't him who had taken money from Francis Lee in the end.

Kelly's frustration boiled over. "I don't have ti for your half-assed excuses, Johansson. This isn't about you running away and leaving to clean up. You made a choice when you got involved in this. Now you owe ."

"I don't owe you anything," Johansson finally said, his voice ice-cold. "I don't have ti for this. Good luck, Kelly. You're going to need it."

Beep… beep…

"FUCK!!!" Kelly roared, smashing his phone in anger.

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