Football Dynasty

In the opening round of 1998, Manchester City claimed a narrow victory over West Ham United, winning by a single goal.

After the match, attention shifted to the security situation. Although there were clashes among fans outside the stadium, the scale was far smaller compared to the previous year.

West Ham United faced fierce criticism from the media, with The Guardian using an image to sum up the match.

The illustration depicted a boxing ring, where a tall, muscular fighter clad in a Manchester City jersey ruthlessly pummeled his opponent—who cowered in the corner with his head covered—wearing a West Ham jersey.

However, all these incidents soon faded into the background with the emergence of surprising news that caught many off guard.

Amid mounting pressure from Europe's biggest clubs, who were increasingly driven by the financial rewards of continental tournaments, rumors began to circulate of a plan to establish a new top-tier European league designed to maximize profits. In response, UEFA sought to ease tensions by introducing reforms to the Champions League. B

eginning next season, qualification would no longer be limited to domestic champions; runners-up would also be granted entry, determined by their UEFA coefficient.

Fueled by the growing financial stakes of European competitions and the rapid development of broadcasting deals, the arms race among Europe's elite clubs—first ignited last summer—continued to escalate without pause.

1997 closed with Manchester City at the top of the Premier League table, with their closest challengers Arsenal in second place. They were followed by Manchester United, Chelsea, and Leicester City, while Liverpool trailed behind in sixth.

For Liverpool, the situation was dire. To bring the Premier League trophy to Anfield, they would now need nothing short of a miracle.

The winter transfer market, unfolding during Richard's absence, was full of twists and turns. Rumors swirled that both Manchester United and Barcelona had returned with identical offers to Manchester City—this time in pounds rather than dollars. At the same time, Serie A giants Inter Milan and Lazio entered the race, determined to lure away the star forward.

That forward was none other than Ronaldo.

The frenzy reached its peak just as the media turned on him, criticizing his dip in form during the clash against West Ham. Yet, despite the storm of scrutiny, the bidding war raged on, with all contenders placing offers around $20 million.

In the end, Ronaldo chose to stay loyal by rejecting them all.

Miss Heysen and Marina Granovskaia stepped into the negotiations as they crafted a vision for Ronaldo's future. They promised him not only a lucrative contract but also a central role in the project Manchester City was building—personally guaranteed by Richard himself.

Garden Court Hotel in Palo Alto.

Steve Jobs sat in silence, his expression tense, weighed down by countless thoughts.

Just three days earlier, in his office at NeXT, Steve Jobs received an unexpected visitor.

Richard Maddox. The youngest billionaire from the United Kingdom.

That night, Richard made a private vow: if he succeeded in taking control of Apple, he would not remain in the shadows. He would take the reins and claim the title of CEO, determined to steer the company into a new era.

Of course, Jobs rejected him outright.

After all, he had been unceremoniously ousted from Apple—why would he ever want to return to the company that had humiliated him?

But Richard pressed on, making a bold and unsettling statement.

"At first, it was NeXT," he said coolly. "If you refuse, I'll buy this company. And no matter what new company you build, I'll buy that too. Whatever you create, Jobs—it will end up mine."

The words cut deep. Jobs' face darkened, his anger boiling over.

"What do you want?" Jobs bellowed, slamming his hand on the desk.

Richard didn't flinch. He leaned forward, his voice steady and deliberate.

"To make you Apple's CEO again. That's my only request. I promise I won't interfere. I'll support every idea you have, every risk you take. The company will be yours to run—your vision, your rules. All I'll do is make sure the resources are there."

For a moment, silence filled the office. Jobs glared at Richard, torn between rage and temptation. The thought of returning to Apple, of reclaiming what was once his, was a wound he never allowed to heal.

And now, someone was offering him the keys.

Back at the Garden Court Hotel, Jobs stepped onto the stage, his presence commanding immediate attention. Dressed in his trademark black turtleneck and jeans, he paused for a moment, letting the murmurs settle. Then, without preamble, he began the presentation of NeXT.

The first slide illuminated the screen behind him: a sleek, minimalist computer design. Jobs' voice was calm but precise, his words deliberate. He spoke not only about the hardware but about the philosophy behind NeXT—the power of design, the elegance of simplicity, and the potential to change the way people interact with technology.

"This is not just a computer," Jobs said, pacing slowly across the stage. "It's a platform for creativity, for education, for solving problems that the old systems couldn't even touch. It's about giving people the tools to dream bigger, to do more."

Jobs' sales pitch on the NeXT operating system was dazzling. He held nothing back, praising its virtues and strengths as though he were describing Olivier's performance in Macbeth—pragmatic, specific, precise.

Then Jobs turned toward his right-hand man, Avie Tevanian, whom he had brought along to handle the technical questions—a smart choice. The only setback came when an Apple senior engineer asked a pointed question, revealing potential shortcomings for Apple in using NeXT. But Jobs quickly recovered, demonstrating both his depth of knowledge and his commanding presence.

As Jobs concluded the demonstration, a polite round of applause filled the room. It was restrained but respectful, the audience acknowledging his presentation without much fanfare. Jobs nodded slightly, accepting the courtesy, and turned toward Tevanian, who gave a quiet thumbs-up from the side of the stage.

After Steve Jobs stepped off the stage to polite applause, Richard leaned back in his seat, nodding approvingly. Jobs had been every bit the showman—precise, persuasive, and unflinching.

Then it was the turn of Be's current CEO, Jean-Louis Gassée.

The room quieted in anticipation, but as Jean-Louis walked to the front, the contrast was immediate. Unlike Jobs, he carried nothing—no slides, no notes, not even a handout. He stood stiffly, hands clasped, his demeanor suggesting that a presentation was unnecessary.

"Well," he began confidently, "your technical people have already met with our technical people. So you know the strength of our solution."

"..."

Silence. A pause that stretched uncomfortably.

There was no pitch, no story, no vision. Hiss entire attitude seemed to rest on the assumption:

'you already know we're the best—because we are the best.'

Richard blinked, trying to process what he was seeing. No formal presentation, no discussion of strengths or future goals. Just a flat, complacent statement.

Slowly, almost involuntarily, he turned his head toward Gil Amelio. The Apple CEO sat frozen, his mouth slightly open, staring at the stage with a look of disbelief. It was as if even he couldn't fathom the arrogance of what they had just witnessed.

"Did you anticipate this?" Richard finally asked.

"I—" Amelio stammered, caught off guard.

"Well, to be honest, Gil," Richard cut him off, "now I understand why Apple is in this state—if this is the kind of man you choose to support."

Amelio opened his mouth to respond, but Richard was already on his feet. Without another word, he turned and left the auditorium, leaving the stunned CEO behind.

With this, the identity of Apple's next CEO was all but certain. The board could deliberate, papers could be signed, and formalities might drag on, but in Richard's mind the decision was already sealed. Amelio's days were numbered, and his exit from Apple was no longer a question of if but when.

Everything now pointed toward Steve Jobs and NeXT. Jean-Louis Gassée had made it no contest. For Richard, the decision was already a foregone conclusion. If Apple's board insisted on backing Be after such a disastrous showing in public, then their own careers would surely be at risk.

No wonder, as he would realize in the future he know, that even if Be's visual technology had been more powerful than NeXT's, it would never have mattered. What carried the day was not raw specifications, but vision, conviction, and the ability to connect technology with people. NeXT had that—and Jobs embodied it.

History proved the point.

Apple survived because NeXT became its foundation. The iPhone was invented and succeeded because it was built on NeXT technology. And that entire timeline had been set in motion here, on this day—all because Steve Jobs understood a truth that others ignored: great technology and design cannot speak for themselves.

But listening, persistence, and hard work can.

There's a lot to learn from here.

One person prepared, the other didn't. One person did their best to hear the concerns of the board, the other didn't. One person tried to be easy to work with, the other didn't.