Football Dynasty

7:30 AM, Maine Road

The players began arriving in waves, while the coaching staff busied themselves setting up the equipment.

It was genuinely amusing to see a group of big men with sleepy eyes and expressions that looked like they wanted to complain—but didn't dare. Fortunately, the atmosphere remained relaxed.

Richard stood on the edge of the pitch, watching as the players shuffled onto the training ground.

Some were still stretching their stiff muscles, others stifled yawns, clearly battling the lingering grip of sleep.

Early morning training clearly wasn't their favorite routine—but none of them dared voice their complaints. At least, not out loud.

In the past, training sessions usually started at 10:00. But due to Ronaldo's underwhelming physical performance in the last match against Newcastle, Richard had called for an emergency session. In other words, it was time to sharpen the squad's fitness for the next fixture.

Leeds United.

They had suddenly appointed former Arsenal boss George Graham as their new manager.

With his one-year ban from football now over, George Graham was reportedly set to take charge of Leeds United—18 months after being sacked by Arsenal for accepting illegal payments.

The next match definitely wouldn't be easy. Everyone knew exactly what to expect from Graham's tactics: ultra-defensive, "park-the-bus" football. That meant one thing—stamina would be crucial. If City wanted to suffocate Leeds and leave them breathless, they'd have to outwork them from the first whistle to the final minute.

Javier Zanetti was among the first to arrive—already dressed, boots laced, and fully prepared even before Jens Lehmann and Henrik Larsson stepped onto the pitch.

Richard nodded when he saw them. History doesn't lie.

The three veterans, seasoned at the highest level, embodied true professionalism. Their punctuality, discipline, and intensity immediately set the tone for the rest of the squad. These were players who treated every training session with the same seriousness as a competitive match.

Sometimes, fitness isn't just about physical capability—it's about willpower. Many players have overcome limitations through sheer determination. And Zanetti for example, a true fighter, was living proof. The fact that he would later become an irreplaceable captain at Inter Milan spoke volumes about his character and professionalism. There was nothing to criticize about his attitude.

As for the main protagonist—the one responsible for this early morning session in the first place—Ronaldo…

Richard's mouth twitched.

Despite his recent fitness concerns, the Brazilian carried himself with an easy smile, greeting everyone he passed with his usual laid-back charm.

Ronaldo gave Richard a nod and moved to greet him as he passed, but Richard simply waved his hand and pointed toward Robertson—whose expression was anything but cheerful. Ronaldo caught the message immediately. With a sheepish smile, he diverted course and headed straight to the stretching area.

Everyone struggled to hold back their laughter as they looked at Ronaldo, who arrived looking like he'd just rolled out of bed.

He rubbed his eyes, let out a long sigh, and then flashed his trademark lazy smile. "Morning, boss," he greeted Robertson in his usual laid-back tone—somehow sounding more relaxed and friendly than he had the day before.

Thankfully, although Robertson looked visibly unimpressed, his tolerance was leagues above that of O'Neill. Instead of snapping, he couldn't resist cracking a joke.

"Did you sleep here or what? You look like you haven't even woken up yet."

Ronaldo chuckled. "Maybe I should. That way, I can just roll straight onto the pitch."

That set off a small wave of laughter. Ferdinand leaned in and grinned, "Just make sure you don't roll back into bed, yeah?"

Robbie Savage chimed in with a laugh, "Or we'll have to start dragging you out with a forklift every morning."

Even Ronaldo couldn't help but laugh along, shaking his head as he joined the others for warm-ups.

The new guys—like Buffon, Pirlo, Lampard, and Capdevila—seemed unusually friendly, and Richard couldn't help but wonder if Robertson's quiet charisma was already influencing the atmosphere.

As for Nakata and Okocha, they still weren't fluent in English, so they remained a bit isolated for now. However, Richard had already arranged for a translator and English lessons, so it was understandable if they seemed a little withdrawn at the moment.

Only Okocha, who had played exceptionally well in the previous match, had started to blend in more with his teammates. The bond he built during his goal celebration seemed to carry over, helping him open up and connect with others more naturally.

CLAP!

A single, sharp clap echoed across the training ground.

All heads turned.

"Alright," Robertson said, his voice calm but commanding. "Today's session will be led by Dr. Schlumberger. Focus on him the same way you'd focus on a match. No shortcuts."

There were murmurs and glances among the players—some curious, others trying to gauge how intense things were about to get.

"Morning, gentlemen," Schlumberger began, voice steady and with a slight German accent. "Today we are doing a full diagnostic session—movement patterns, cardio thresholds, and joint mobility."

Everyone nodded, having grown used to these sessions but then came the unexpected part.

"I want baseline data for every player," Dr. Schlumberger announced. "This includes GPS tracking, lactate thresholds, hamstring flexibility, and explosive power tests."

For a moment, silence hung over the training ground like a fog.

"…Lactate what?"

"GPS?"

"Thresholds? Explosive power?"

A few players glanced at each other, their expressions a mixture of confusion and mild concern.

They had never heard anything like this before!

English football (and most of the world's football, to be fair) was still largely traditional in its approach. Advanced sports science methods simply weren't widely adopted or accessible yet.

The reason?

First, they were too expensive.

Second, this kind of equipment didn't even exist in usable forms for athletes.

Basically, all the equipment being used here was sourced through Richard's request from Wythenshawe Hospital, which was currently in collaboration with Manchester City.

Thanks to the creativity of Schlumberger and Fevre, they managed to modify bulky, non-portable, technician-reliant hospital equipment into something that could be used ahead of its time—long before such tools were expected to appear in football.

"Come here, everyone needs to use this."

Since no real GPS sports technology existed yet, they could only rely on pedometers or accelerometers from hospital gait labs to measure distance and movement patterns.

Sure enough, everyone's premonition was confirmed. Schlumberger, thinking about the training session planned for the day, suspected that any good first impressions might fade very quickly.

With this thought in mind, he decided to be frank—and since Ronaldo, the main reason this training session was happening, just so happened to be nearby, he gave the Brazilian a pat on the shoulder.

"Don't worry," he said with a grin. "This session will wake up every cell in your body."

But Schlumberger's version of a reassuring pat only made Ronaldo shudder.

CLICK!

The sound of a camera shutter and murmurs outside Maine Road could be heard.

The interaction between City staff and players was discreet—until some clever paparazzi found a gap in the fencing around Maine Road and captured the moment. After all, Manchester City were the talk of England, especially after their ruthless win over Newcastle.

Richard could only sigh. He felt helpless dealing with these people.

No matter how much they tried to shield Maine Road from prying eyes, the paparazzi would always find another angle. By tomorrow, they'd surely discover a new vantage point, making all their efforts feel pointless.

Curious about what was unfolding behind the scenes at the newly revitalized Manchester City, many had started arriving early—desperate for a glimpse of what made this team tick.

Other than Okocha and Larsson, who were widely praised for their performances in the last match, the media and fans in England recently found another hot topic: John Robertson vs. Martin O'Neill.

4-3-3 vs. 4-4-2.

One embraced a possession-based style, while the other favored a counter-attacking approach.

The British media had a knack for hyping up managers or players as the next big thing—elevating them as geniuses or future legends—only to tear them down at the first sign of failure. This kind of spotlight could drag Manchester City into the public eye long before they had accomplished anything meaningful.

Still, today's training session, Richard thought, was part of a deliberate effort to build momentum and keep the buzz alive. So, for now, he decided to let the paparazzi have their moment.

Once the equipment was fully introduced and laid out, Dr. Schlumberger stepped forward to address the squad.

"Okay, guys, today marks the official start of our preparation for the upcoming match against Leeds United—four days from now. I hope you're all ready for what's coming. As Manchester City players, it's honestly disappointing that if—despite the huge investment—we failed to qualify for any European competition this season."

"…"

"What I mean is this," Schlumberger said, pointing to the pedometer and video setup used for manual GPS tracking.

"Do you know how much we've invested in each of these pieces of equipment?"

"…"

"No one? Let me tell you."

Silence followed his words. He paused, letting the weight of his message sink in.

"Three point nine million."

The players exchanged glances. Those who needed translators, like Okocha and Nakata, looked visibly taken aback.

Schlumberger nodded. From his perspective, their reactions were encouraging—it meant they understood the magnitude of what they were a part of.

"We have the squad. We have the resources. Now we need the mentality," he continued, his tone firm but composed.

"This season, we have two main objectives. First, we must get back into Europe. Whether it's the Champions League or the Europa League, we belong on the continental stage—though I doubt anyone here would choose the Europa League over the Champions League."

"Second, we will play football that demands respect—not just from our fans, but from every opponent we face. Every club we play must feel both respect and fear, no matter the result."

He took a breath before delivering his final message:

"Believe in yourselves. You all have the ability to achieve greatness. The fact that you're wearing this jersey proves it. Don't let us—the fans, your families, me, the coaching staff, or your teammates—down. Prove to the world that you have what it takes to achieve greatness."

Richard and Robertson glanced at each other, eyebrows raised. They had no idea this doctor could motivate people. They thought he was just here to poke knees and measure hamstrings.

Clearly, Schlumberger's words had cleared the haze hanging over most of the players. The younger ones—like Pirlo, Lampard, and Capdevila—were fired up and full of fighting spirit, while the veterans, including Ronaldo, who had looked half-asleep earlier, now stood tall, focused, and ready for battle.

"Now, disband and start warming up. Today's training will be very hard—don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, he returned to the sidelines, becoming a spectator as Robertson and the others took charge of the warm-up.