Football Card System

Gao Bo looked at David Morton sitting across from him with interest.

Today, David seemed more spirited than usual. His hair was slicked back with a thick layer of hairspray, looking like pine needles stuck to his scalp, while the back was combed into a shiny, greasy style.

The setting was a high-end bar. It was quiet, with only the occasional murmurs of patrons breaking the silence. There were none of the chaotic scenes typical of English pubs—no shouting, no drunken revelry—just the soft clinking of glasses and the faint shuffle of bartenders' footsteps, accompanied by a gentle classical symphony playing in the background.

This was an upscale venue, a place where the well-heeled gathered. Gao Bo didn't particularly enjoy this kind of environment, and he liked the glass of red wine in front of him even less. He preferred strong spirits over red wine.

"You're living it up, David," Gao Bo remarked.

Reluctantly, he raised his glass and took a sip of the wine.

"I've made some money from recent investments," David Morton replied smugly, his smile brimming with pride.

Gao Bo studied him. The year 2008 had just passed, and it was marked by a devastating financial crisis that had bankrupted many wealthy individuals. For David to have made money through investments in such a climate hinted that he wasn't just a typical rich kid.

Gao Bo swirled the wine in his glass, pondering whether he, too, should dabble in investments. He wasn't particularly drawn to financial products, but he did know of a few up-and-coming internet companies that would grow into global giants in the future.

"Have you heard of Facebook, David?" Gao Bo asked.

When it came to industries poised for explosive growth over the next decade, aside from major Chinese tech firms, the emerging internet giants in the U.S. would be at the forefront.

David, being a young man, was familiar with these new trends. "Yeah, they're doing great. I heard they've surpassed 100 million users."

"I'm very optimistic about them. Maybe you should invest some of your money in that company," Gao Bo suggested, taking another reluctant sip of his wine.

"You? Giving me investment advice?" David looked skeptical.

While he acknowledged Gao Bo's expertise in football coaching, David found it hard to take financial advice from him.

David, who had recently tasted success in investing, fancied himself a budding Wolf of Wall Street. If Gao Bo had been talking about football tactics, David would have listened attentively, but on matters of finance, he wasn't convinced.

Still, David didn't press the topic. He hadn't come to Gao Bo to discuss investments.

"Congrats on beating Chelsea and advancing to the FA Cup's fourth round!" David raised his glass in a toast.

Gao Bo raised his own glass in response.

"Is Adam White really as good as the media claims?" David asked curiously.

"If he can replicate his performance against Chelsea, he could become a player who rivals Robben," Gao Bo replied. Of course, he wouldn't reveal that Adam's extraordinary display was partly due to the tactical boosts Gao Bo had devised.

"How much do you think he's worth?" David leaned in, his eyes lighting up.

"Right now, big clubs might be willing to pay up to five million pounds for him," Gao Bo said honestly, though he frowned slightly.

In 2008, paying five million pounds for a second-division teenager was considered a steep price.

"Only five million?" David's disappointment was evident.

"You said he could match Robben," he added.

"Yes, if his development continues as expected. But in football, there are countless talented players, and not all of them reach their potential. Injuries, mentality, and even luck play huge roles in a player's career. Adam is still a raw talent," Gao Bo explained earnestly.

David nodded slowly. "But the English media are comparing him to Messi..."

"You believe the English media?" Gao Bo smirked.

"I'd sooner believe Wall Street is filled with honest brokers," David quipped.

Their laughter drew the attention of other patrons, who glanced at them disapprovingly.

Gao Bo understood what David was getting at. For him, owning a professional football club wasn't easy. Even a second-division team required an annual investment of hundreds of thousands of pounds—a significant burden for David, who had inherited his father's financial troubles.

Right now, most of Luton's income came from home game ticket sales, bonuses, and broadcast revenue from cup matches. However, player transfers promised far greater returns. While David was disappointed that Adam's current value was only five million, he believed the player could eventually be sold for over ten million pounds.

For David, ten million pounds was a staggering amount—more than his late father had earned in a year.

"If Adam continues to develop over the next two years, big clubs will offer huge sums for him. But right now, he's not worth that much," Gao Bo said after some thought.

Gao Bo didn't want to rely on selling players to make money. He had invested a lot of effort into building this team. With their young core, Luton could even push for promotion to the Premier League and compete there in the future. Constantly selling key players would only weaken the squad.

Changing the subject, Gao Bo added, "By the way, Chelsea is refusing to share the ticket revenue from the FA Cup match..."

David's smile froze.

The game's ticket revenue amounted to hundreds of thousands of pounds—a sum Luton desperately needed. According to FA Cup rules, ticket revenue was to be split equally between the two teams. Moreover, it was customary for wealthier clubs to donate their share to lower-division opponents.

But this time, Chelsea had refused, holding a grudge against Gao Bo for his pre-match comments. For Chelsea, the amount was trivial. For Luton, it was a lifeline.

David gave Gao Bo a resentful look. Clearly, he blamed Gao Bo for offending Chelsea.

Stepping out of the bar, Gao Bo pulled his black coat tighter against the drizzle.

Six months ago, David Morton had been a struggling rich kid saddled with debt. Now, he owned the most formidable team in League Two. If he sold the club's key players, he could pocket at least twenty million pounds in cash—nearly doubling his assets.

Gao Bo understood David's temptation. Earning so much in such a short time would tempt anyone.

But Gao Bo was the team's coach. He didn't want to see the players he had worked so hard to develop sold off.

Looking up at the gray, rain-filled sky, Gao Bo walked into the drizzle without an umbrella. He was used to this weather.