Football Dynasty

"If we can compress and distribute words in sound, not just on paper, Amazon won't just sell books—we'll sell ideas, in every form."

That was what Richard said back in 1994, during one of his earliest discussions with Bezos about investing in Amazon.

Unexpectedly, the deal was obscure, buried among the experimental tech investments Bezos made as he dreamed beyond books. Amazon quietly acquired rights to an early form of digital audio compression technology—what would soon become known worldwide as MP3.

The purchase price was modest, just $1 million, which seemed like a side gamble compared to Amazon's main focus as an online bookstore.

But the problem was that the patents were still incomplete and fragmented. The real backbone of MP3 was controlled by Fraunhofer Institute and Thomson, who held the global licensing rights. Amazon had only secured a smaller, peripheral patent connected to compression techniques—not the core algorithm itself.

That's why, historically, Amazon's early attempt to launch downloadable audiobooks in the late 1990s failed. The deal looked visionary but ultimately became a "missed opportunity"—owning part of a technology that could change the world, but not the crucial patents needed to enforce or profit from it.

This is why Bezos, in his relentless hunt for capital, was willing to use the patents as leverage. In his meetings with Richard, he didn't just bring projections of book sales or talk about Amazon's growing customer base—he placed those digital audio compression patents on the table as the one thing he could trade.

As for Richard, he understood why. Many tech companies underestimated MP3's future in the 1990s. Even Microsoft and RealNetworks initially focused on their own formats, assuming MP3 would never take off—only to be proven wrong when it fueled Napster, iPods, and the digital music revolution.

And the fact that he held a significant stake in Apple shares… it was nothing short of a jackpot, especially after Apple's iPod success ignited a renaissance.

Richard placed his hand on Jeff Bezos's shoulder."I never expected you to actually follow my advice," Richard said with a faint smile, before turning to Marina. "She'll handle the patent acquisition. As for what you can gain from her work—remember this: every decision she makes, I'll stand behind. So it all depends on her ability."

He gave Bezos a firm nod. "Alright, time to head back to Manchester."

Bezos froze for a moment. His eyes shifted, his expression changing subtly. He had never expected Richard to place such trust—such responsibility—in that woman!

With that, Ricard, Stuart, Marina, and Jeff Bezos rose from their seats and quietly left the Camp Nou.

In a thrilling clash against one of Europe's top teams, Manchester City's entire squad felt invigorated after securing a victory on the road. Undoubtedly, this was a confidence-boosting, milestone match.

As for Barcelona, well...

After the game, Robson stated at the press conference that everything was still in play and that Barcelona would strive for a comeback in the second leg.

"Everything is still in play," he declared. "We will fight to come back in the second leg."

The words rang with determination, but everyone in the room knew the truth: the comeback was improbable. The attending journalists were unconvinced, seeing his remarks as nothing more than a brave façade. Even the local Spanish reporters noted that Barcelona had failed to create enough opportunities on home soil, raising serious doubts about how they could perform any better in Manchester.

In fact, rather than focusing on the match itself, there was something far more important and urgent at play. The whispers around the Camp Nou were louder than Robson's voice: his days at Barcelona were already numbered.

Even if no one asked the question directly, the answer was already written in the air. His fate was only a matter of time.

And they were not wrong.

High above the pitch, in the dimly lit VIP box, the real game had already begun. President José Luis Núñez sat with a few trusted directors, their eyes fixed less on the scoreboard and more on the future. Defeat to Manchester City had accelerated the conversations.

Plans, once whispered behind closed doors, now spilled into decisive negotiations.

The name on everyone's lips: Louis van Gaal.

Núñez, pragmatic as ever, had long admired the Dutchman's discipline and his Ajax empire that conquered Europe in 1995. Now, as Barcelona faltered, Van Gaal loomed as the savior waiting in the wings.

Carles Rexach, sitting near Núñez, also joined the conversation.

A Barça legend, Cruyff's old lieutenant, and now serving as club director, Rexach knew what such a move meant. He had watched Van Gaal's Ajax dismantle opponents with ruthless efficiency. But he also knew Van Gaal was no Cruyff. His methods were strict, his personality unyielding.

For Barcelona, it would mean the end of one era and the dawn of something entirely different.

Since Van Gaal could not travel—Ajax's season was still alive—he sent his envoys. Andries Jonker, a diligent coach, and Gerard van der Lem, his trusted assistant, arrived in Barcelona as messengers. They carried more than a proposal; they carried Van Gaal's conditions.

At one discreet meeting, van der Lem spoke plainly.

"One of Louis' requests is simple but non-negotiable. Toni Bruins Slot must return as his assistant. If this is approved, Van Gaal will take charge of Barcelona."

The words hung in the room like smoke. Núñez raised an eyebrow. Rexach leaned back, silent, but the surprise was written across his face.

Toni Bruins Slot.

For Barcelona insiders, the name carried weight.

The quiet Dutchman had once been Johan Cruyff's shadow strategist during the Dream Team years. While Cruyff painted the vision and Rexach nurtured the players, Bruins Slot built the dossiers, dissected the opponents, and mapped out tactical weaknesses. He had been the hidden hand behind many of the club's greatest nights.

When Cruyff departed in 1996, Bruins Slot had slipped away too, returning to Ajax as technical advisor and scout. His notebooks filled with diagrams and observations were legendary in Amsterdam. Nobody had imagined he would set foot in Camp Nou again—until now.

Núñez and Rexach exchanged a long, knowing look. Van Gaal wanted his general back. And if granting that request meant delivering Barcelona's future, how could they say no?

What was clear in that tense, smoke-filled meeting was this: Bobby Robson's Barcelona was already the past. The club was preparing itself, quietly but surely, for the arrival of Louis van Gaal and the Dutch revolution he would bring.

As for Manchester City, when it was O'Neill's turn to be interviewed, the topic quickly shifted. It wasn't about today's performance, nor about how it felt to beat Barcelona. Instead, the journalists seemed intent on stirring discord by focusing on Henrik Larsson, who was in the midst of a goal drought.

O'Neill brushed off their concerns with ease.

"Henrik didn't score today, which is perfectly normal. He contributed significantly to both our attack and our defense. If he had disappeared on the pitch, or if he'd scored a goal but failed to work defensively, then yes, I would criticize such a forward severely. But that wasn't the case—he played excellently today, just a bit unlucky in front of goal."

The Spanish journalists' faces darkened. Even if they meant no harm, their questions carried a sharper edge. The reporters did not hold back—and so O'Neill didn't either.

The English journalists, on the other hand, remained quiet, waiting for their turn. Only after the heated exchange had passed did they finally pose their questions.

"Coach O'Neill believes Barcelona still has a chance to turn things around. What do you think?"

"Of course they do," O'Neill replied. "We've only played 90 minutes of a 180-minute tie, and the scoreline isn't overwhelmingly in anyone's favor. Barcelona absolutely still has opportunities. The second leg will be in Manchester, and while that reduces their home advantage, it doesn't eliminate their chances. The return match will be full of suspense and variables, and we'll take it very seriously. If we underestimate them, today's victory could end up meaning nothing."

After the press conference, O'Neill stepped outside and looked up at the clear Spanish night sky, laughing almost to the point of intoxication.

"What time do we head back to Manchester?" he asked the kit manager, Jim Rouse.

"We should be leaving for the airport now, boss," Rouse replied.

The flight from Barcelona to Manchester would take just over two hours.

"Alright then, let's go," O'Neill said, before gathering the players and staff onto the team bus bound for the airport.

By the time they boarded the plane, it was close to ten o'clock. The mood was euphoric—some players posed for group photos, others sang and danced in the cramped cabin, their joy spilling over into the night sky.

When the plane finally touched down in Manchester, the celebrations had taken their toll. Most of the squad looked exhausted and disheveled, but no one regretted it. Beating Barcelona was a victory worth celebrating.

Before they disembarked, O'Neill stood at the front of the aisle, smiling as he asked, "So, what are your plans once we land?"

"Go home and sleep!" the players shouted in unison.

Zanetti caught O'Neill 's surprised look and burst into laughter. "Boss, of course we know there's another match waiting for us the day after tomorrow!"

The others chuckled, their tired faces breaking into half-smiles. O'Neill laughed with them, then raised his voice in mock scolding:

"Good, I hope you can reassure me then. Rest tomorrow, report back the day after tomorrow in the morning—and in the afternoon, we'll beat Arsenal. You all agree with me, don't you? You don't want this winning run to end in defeat, do you?"

"Of course not—we want to be treble winners!"

Zanetti roared, and under his lead, the whole cabin erupted into cheers once more.