Football Dynasty

The 1996–97 season was a disaster for AC Milan—one of the worst in their modern history. They finished 11th in Serie A, just six points above relegation, despite having a squad full of stars.

Among the many problems, goalkeeping inconsistency was a major issue.

Sebastiano Rossi, once a rock in Milan's defense during the early '90s, began to show signs of decline. His reactions slowed, and he became increasingly prone to errors—including a notorious incident that earned him a five-match ban for punching a Piacenza player in the face.

The backline lost faith in him.

With Baresi retiring and Costacurta aging, Milan became more vulnerable—and Rossi's decline only magnified the chaos. Faced with this growing instability, Milan began testing out new options in an effort to restore defensive solidity.

In this, Berlusconi saw an opportunity in Jens Lehmann. The German goalkeeper had already proven himself in English football, and as part of Milan's effort to refresh and reinforce their goalkeeping options, they saw Lehmann as a promising solution.

As for Pirlo...

"Impossible!"

Richard rejected it instantly.

Buffon, Zanetti, Thuram, Pirlo, Lampard, Ronaldo, and Henry — untouchable.

Richard immediately instructed Marina to block any possibility of a transfer involving them.

Upon returning from Munich, he quickly found himself back in Manchester and caught up in a wave of unforeseen issues—most of them involving transfers.

Following Richard's return to the city, Lehmann, who had caught wind of the news, didn't go back to his dormitory. Instead, he went straight to Maine Road, knocked on Richard's office door, and directly approached him with a transfer request.

Richard sighed, motioning him to sit.

"Milan?"

Lehmann gave a small nod. "They spoke to my agent. "

'Damn Berlusconi,' Richard cursed.

There was no doubt now—It was clear that Milam camp had privately contacted Lehmann, no doubt about it!

Such matters were part of football's unwritten rules, and Richard—once an agent himself—had no grounds to complain. In truth, ninety-nine percent of transfers violated FIFA regulations in some way. Filing an official complaint would be pointless and self-defeating; it would only isolate him from the inner circle of the football world. Only clubs on the brink of collapse after losing key players ever bothered to protest—and even then, their cries were mostly ignored.

"You leave now, and you're just another transfer in a long list of Milan's experiments. Stay here, and you'll be part of something that actually matters. You'll be our foundation."

There was a pause.

For a brief moment, Lehmann didn't respond. Then he looked away, unconvinced.The truth was, he was still angry—not playing in the two finals had left a bitter taste.

Richard sighed at this.

Lehmann wanted to be the first-choice goalkeeper—but Buffon was simply too consistent. The young Italian was on fire, rarely making mistakes, and had firmly cemented his place in the starting eleven.

"Understood," Richard said.

If he had come directly to him, then it was likely that O'Neill and the rest of the coaching staff were already aware of the situation.

The 1990s were hell for strikers in Serie A, then for defenders—and goalkeepers—it was paradise, a proving ground for achieving greatness.

Lehmann, like many defenders and keepers, dreamed of Italy. To him, playing in Serie A meant reaching the pinnacle of goalkeeping excellence.

If Richard could hear what Lehmann was thinking, he would've just shaken his head.

'Don't say I didn't warn you.'

Because his time in Milan would turn out to be a disaster.

With the Lehmann case settled, Richard turned to the next item on his agenda.

Done with the Lehmann case, Richard moved on to the next item on the agenda. Manchester City received transfer faxes every single day—a constant stream of bids, inquiries, and loan requests for their young talents.

Richard had to sift through at least twenty offers a day, coming from clubs across Europe. But most of them were, in his view, nothing short of insulting.

Two or three million pounds for his players? It was laughable—even when the offer came from a so-called prestigious club.

Some bids were non-starters from the moment they arrived. One club had tabled £7 million for Robbie Savage, another offered £3 million for Theodoros Zagorakis—both were instantly dismissed, as Richard felt the offers were far too low. Even Larsson wasn't spared from the transfer radar, with City recently receiving a £12 million offer for him.

Most players, for their part, had little interest in leaving. Some stayed out of loyalty; others were simply unimpressed by the clubs trying to lure them away. If they were to move at all, it would have to be to a team offering a clear step up in ambition, competitiveness, and profile—not just a fatter paycheck.

Speaking of competitiveness, Parma—unexpectedly—became the first Italian club to make an official move for one of City's players.

"Ten million for Thuram and Buffon?" Richard was speechless.

Parma had embarked on a remarkable rise in the early 90s, having competed for the Serie A title over the past three years and winning the UEFA Cup and the Cup Winners' Cup. Plus, the significant investment from their owner, Stefano Tanzi, allowed Parma to emerge as a force in Serie A.

Although Parma wasn't one of the traditional giants and had never won the Serie A title, the league itself was immensely prestigious. The reputation of Serie A as the "Little World Cup" was no exaggeration. In the eyes of many, even a team finishing third or fourth in Italy was often seen as more formidable than the champions of the Premier League, Ligue 1, Bundesliga, or even La Liga.

Thuram and Buffon—two key pieces who, in theory, should have been at Parma by now—were instead wearing Manchester City colors. And now, seemingly out of nowhere, Parma had begun to show interest in both players.

It was almost ironic. In the real trajectory of football history, both Thuram and Buffon were meant to be part of Parma's golden era. But here they were, playing for Manchester City.

Because of this, when the £10 million offer from Parma reached Manchester City, Richard rejected it immediately, without hesitation. To make his position clear, he added in his reply:"£10 million—plus Dino Baggio!"

Naturally, Richard's bold reply was met with silence from Parma. However, just as Richard thought Parma would pull out entirely from pursuing any City players, they came back with another offer!

27 billion Italian Lira—or £15 million—for Materazzi and Lehmann!

Richard was baffled. 'Why was Parma suddenly so eager to pursue Manchester City players?'

With that question lingering, he asked Markna to investigate. The answer left him deep in thought.

Parma's president, Callisto Tanzi, had publicly stated that several of the club's star players would need to be sold to improve their financial standing.

Key names such as Enrico Chiesa, Hernán Crespo, Zé Maria, and Dino Baggio had already been linked with top clubs across Europe. It was clear Parma might be offloading talent to raise the funds necessary for a major squad rebuild next season. After winning the UEFA Cup Winners' Cup in the 1994/1995 season, Parma indeed began to falter in Serie A, clearly falling behind clubs like AC Milan, Inter Milan, Roma, and Juventus.

"Financial difficulties?"

Parma was not yet experiencing major financial difficulties, but warning signs were beginning to appear. The club was starting to feel pressure to balance the books. While they still appeared financially healthy and ambitious, this illusion was largely sustained by the aggressive and unsustainable financial practices of Parmalat—the dairy conglomerate led by Calisto Tanzi. Please read this chapter on its original platform—M|V|L1EMPYR.

Parmalat had been covering the club's expenses through creative accounting and mounting debt. However, as everyone knows, injecting money endlessly is neither sustainable for a football club nor for the company behind it.

"It seems their top officials are starting to feel a bit of internal pressure to generate funds," Mairn explained, referring to what she had heard from the rumors.

"Internal pressure?"

Squad balancing, wage structure, and resale value had become key concerns. The club had benefited greatly from Parmalat's money, which allowed them to sign top players like Hernán Crespo, Enrico Chiesa, Gianfranco Zola, Hristo Stoichkov, and Tomas Brolin so far. However, over the past two years, their spending hadn't matched their performance on the pitch.

"I also heard they're planning to cash in on one of their best players."

"Who?"

"Fabio Cannavaro."

Richard shot up from his seat.

"Who?!"

His outburst startled Marina, who had been calmly reading the report on Parma's situation.

"I—I'm sorry," Richard quickly apologized upon seeing the alarm in her eyes. But really—who wouldn't be shocked by news like this? Fabio Cannavaro!

"Why would they want to sell him?" he asked, unable to contain his disbelief. It made no sense.

Marina slowly composed herself as she saw Richard begin to calm down. Then she replied, "According to the media, Cannavaro is likely reconsidering his future if Parma decides to sell some of their players. He believes the club will lose its competitiveness, but nothing is certain yet. Right now, 50 percent of the decision lies with him, and the rest is up to the management."

"Who's interested in Cannavaro?"

"Roma, Lazio, and Juventus are all big admirers—but so far, there hasn't been anything concrete regarding a transfer."

Richard nodded. There would be no shortage of clubs lining up for the 23-year-old Fabio Cannavaro.

Realizing that all the interested parties were from Serie A, Richard made a firm decision.

"Accept Milan's bid for Lehmann," he said, pausing briefly before retracting his words. "No—spread the rumor that Lehmann is headed to Milan first. Then, make an inquiry about Cannavaro. We have to get him, no matter what it takes."