Football Manager: Running a Rip-off club

That night, Arthur arrived in Madrid with Allen, and Shakira came along with her assistant Naya.

Allen had already arranged a meeting with Real Sociedad's manager, Miguel, for the following day in San Sebastián.

By the time they reached their hotel, both Arthur and Shakira were exhausted. They didn't go anywhere that evening and simply rested. Shakira had rehearsals the next day anyway, so it was better to keep things light.

Early the next morning, Arthur said goodbye to Shakira, who was preparing to leave for her rehearsal, and then headed off with Allen to San Sebastián.

Once they arrived at Real Sociedad's club facilities, Arthur was led to a conference room where Miguel was already waiting.

Miguel, truth be told, was still confused about the meeting. He had met Allen once before at a cocktail event the previous year. They had exchanged contact details, but there had been no real follow-up. So when Allen called yesterday, mentioning that Leeds United wanted to explore cooperation regarding players, Miguel was curious and somewhat puzzled.

His first assumption was that Arthur had his eyes on one of Sociedad's young prospects. After all, Arthur had a growing reputation across Europe for scouting and investing in youth talent.

But no matter how hard he tried to guess, Miguel couldn't think of any youth player in his squad that Arthur would be particularly interested in.

So after sitting down, he went straight to the point.

"Mr. Morgan, it's a pleasure to meet you," Miguel said with polite formality. "Yesterday, Mr. Allen mentioned your interest in some kind of cooperation involving players. I hope you don't mind me asking—have you taken a liking to any of our young talents?"

Arthur smiled and shook his head. "Mr. Miguel, I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding. I'm not here to sign anyone. I've actually come to offer players."

Miguel was briefly stunned. He hadn't expected that response.

"I see…" he said awkwardly, scratching his chin. "But to be honest, Mr. Morgan, our current budget doesn't allow us to consider buying anyone, especially not from a club like Leeds. Our performances this season haven't helped either. I'm not sure players from your club would be interested in joining us right now."

Arthur kept smiling and responded calmly, "No, Mr. Miguel, that's not what I meant. I'm not here to sell anyone. What I'm proposing is a loan arrangement. I want to send a few promising young players to your club to gain first-team experience."

Miguel was taken aback again. From the way it sounded, Arthur wanted to treat Real Sociedad as a feeder team. The idea didn't sit well with him.

He frowned and got up slowly from his seat. His voice lost its earlier friendliness.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Morgan," he said stiffly, "but I'm afraid I can't agree to that. Our youth training resources are already stretched thin. We don't have the capacity to help develop players for another club."

Arthur didn't change his tone or expression. He had expected this kind of response.

He gestured calmly and said, "Please, Mr. Miguel, there's no need to get upset. Just hear me out. This isn't a one-sided deal. If we do this right, both clubs stand to benefit."

Miguel paused. Seeing Arthur's tone was still composed and respectful, he picked up his water glass, took a sip, and sat back down.

"Alright," he said finally. "I'll listen. Go ahead."

Arthur leaned forward a bit and spoke steadily.

"As Allen probably mentioned, I know that Real Sociedad has been focused on getting younger. That's something I truly respect. I believe in building through youth too. What I'm offering is to loan you a few highly capable young players—players who are ready for senior-level football but need game time. You wouldn't have to cover their wages. That's our responsibility. You just provide the environment and opportunity."

Miguel listened but didn't respond immediately.

Arthur continued, "These are boys who've trained in a professional setup and have the potential to help your team. If they perform, they help your results. If they don't, you're not burdened financially. Simple as that."

Miguel still wasn't fully convinced, but his anger had faded. He looked at Allen, then back at Arthur.

"So you want to loan us players for free?"

"Yes," Arthur nodded. "On the condition that they get a chance to play, if they meet your requirements."

Miguel narrowed his eyes slightly. "You're proposing we rotate them into our first team? That would depend entirely on their performance."

"Of course," Arthur agreed. "All we ask is they're treated fairly. If they prove themselves, they play. If not, they return to us."

Miguel crossed his arms and considered the idea for a moment. After a pause, he said, "Alright. I'll review this further. But I need to know exactly what kind of players we're talking about."

But no matter what, these players will take up the playing time of other players in the team after they come. If Miguel doesn't get some money, he will feel uncomfortable.

Just like Miguel, Arthur took a calm sip from his water glass. He adjusted himself slightly in the chair, leaning back to find a more comfortable position before speaking in a composed tone.

"Mr. Miguel," he began, "I think there's been another misunderstanding. You don't need to worry about limited youth training resources on your side. I'm not about to throw a bunch of twelve-year-olds your way. The players I'm talking about are all sixteen or older—physically and technically ready to play in La Liga."

He paused, letting the words settle. "And I'm not overestimating them. You've probably heard that I have a decent track record when it comes to identifying young talent. And it's not just me. Our head of youth development at Leeds is Thomas Tuchel. I trust his eye completely. The boys we're offering? They're not prospects for the distant future. They're ready to contribute right now."

Miguel's eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise. "Wait, Tuchel? As in Thomas Tuchel, former Stuttgart U19 coach?"

Arthur nodded with a faint smile.

"That's the one."

Miguel leaned back and let out a low breath. He knew Tuchel's name well. In fact, before their current manager had taken over, Real Sociedad had tried to bring Tuchel in for their youth setup, but he'd turned them down.

"And you managed to bring him to Leeds?"

"Yep. He's heading our youth system now," Arthur said casually, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb.

Miguel nodded slowly. The offer was beginning to sound more serious than he'd thought. But still, he wasn't about to agree so easily.

"Even if you're offering good players," Miguel said after a pause, "you're missing the point. We have a tight budget. Our board won't allow us to pay for players we don't own—especially ones who will just return to Leeds in a year or two. Unless you're telling me one of your loanees is going to win us La Liga, there's no way they'll approve it."

His tone was polite but edged with challenge. Arthur could tell he was being tested.

Miguel had clearly seen the press conference from a few days ago—where Arthur had confidently stated that Leeds United was aiming for either the Premier League title or the Champions League this season. Now, Miguel wanted to see just how far Arthur's ambition (or ego) would go. Was he arrogant enough to promise Real Sociedad a championship just to get this deal across the line?

Arthur didn't blink. He understood the tactic. And he wasn't falling for it.

He leaned forward with a slight smile. "Mr. Miguel, with all due respect, I think you might be misunderstanding me again. I never said you'd need to pay for anything. There are no fees here. No purchase, no rental costs. This would be a nominal loan. Leeds United would continue paying the players' full wages."

Miguel's brow furrowed slightly. That caught him off guard.

"No salary burden at all?" he asked.

"None whatsoever," Arthur replied. "All we ask is that they're treated like any other squad member. If they're good enough, they play. If not, they return to us without complaint. But there's no cost on your side. You get depth, talent, and options—without risking a euro."

Miguel didn't respond right away. He leaned back, tapped a finger lightly on the edge of the table, and thought. It was tempting—very tempting. Free players, fully trained under a professional system, scouted and vouched for by two respected names in youth development.

And Arthur wasn't exaggerating his reputation. Over the last few seasons, his ability to scout and develop young players had made waves across Europe. Several media outlets had already begun comparing him to Arsène Wenger—praising him as one of the most forward-thinking minds in the Premier League when it came to nurturing talent.

It wasn't just hype either. Arthur's teams had already begun showing the benefits of his philosophy. Young players like Diogo, James, and Bennett were proving that with the right guidance, they could perform even under top-tier pressure.

Now, he was offering that same talent pool to Real Sociedad. For free.

Miguel looked at him again, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why us, then? Why Real Sociedad, and not a team higher up the table?"

Arthur was ready for that question.

"Because I respect your approach," he said. "You've been gradually moving toward a younger, more dynamic squad. That's not easy to do in today's football world. Most clubs panic after a few poor results and go back to signing thirty-year-olds. But you've stuck to the plan. I respect that."

He continued, "You're trying to build something long-term. So are we. That's why this can work. We're not throwing you players we want to offload—we're offering you players we believe in. This isn't about using your club. It's about helping each other move forward."

Miguel said nothing, but his posture shifted. The defensiveness was easing.

Arthur could see he was getting through.

He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and waited—letting Miguel process it all.

Miguel took a moment to collect his thoughts. His fingers tapped lightly on the table as he feigned hesitation, then he looked at Arthur with a slightly conflicted expression.

"Mr. Morgan," he began cautiously, "I think your proposal could work. It's promising, no doubt. But as you know, something like this still has to pass through our board of directors.

And… well, you see… if your players are loaned here, they'll naturally take up game time that could've gone to our own youth. That's going to raise concerns internally."

He scratched his temple, deliberately sounding awkward. "So… if you could contribute a little more—financially, I mean—then the chances of the board approving everything would be much higher."

Miguel sat up straighter after delivering his point, preparing himself for what he expected to be a round of negotiations. He was sure Arthur would push back. Maybe offer a token amount, maybe stall. That was what most club executives would do—clamp down the moment money entered the discussion.

But to his surprise, Arthur didn't hesitate at all. In fact, he chuckled.

"Perfect!" Arthur said cheerfully, flashing a bright grin. "Mr. Miguel, I'm glad we see things the same way. I didn't just come here to bring you players—I came here to bring you money as well."

Miguel blinked, caught off guard. Before he could process what Arthur meant, the Leeds manager leaned forward with a more serious expression.

"To be clear," Arthur said, locking eyes with him now, "what I really came to San Sebastián for today… is to buy shares in Real Sociedad."

"Buy shares?" Miguel repeated, stunned.

Arthur nodded calmly. "That's right. This is actually the main goal of my visit."

Miguel's hand instinctively lifted, a reflexive move to object, but Arthur reached across the table and gently pressed his palm down before he could speak.

"Please—just hear me out before you decide."

He gave Miguel a moment to settle, then continued.

"I know Real Sociedad has faced serious financial pressure in recent years. If that weren't the case, you wouldn't have been forced to sell off key players, or fast-track youth players into the first team. I understand that kind of situation well."

Arthur's tone was calm, but purposeful now.

"To be blunt, your current squad isn't in a great place. And if nothing changes—if you can't reinforce properly this winter—relegation is a very real possibility. But that doesn't have to happen. If you accept our loaned players and my investment, then not only can we help stabilize your lineup, you can also make crucial additions in January."

Miguel sat quietly, listening.

"And more than that," Arthur added, "if I become a shareholder, there's a long-term partnership at stake. The young players I send on loan would be protected, nurtured. We'd both benefit. I'm not looking to interfere with how your club is run—I've got my hands full with Leeds United already. That remains my home, my project."

He leaned back slightly now, giving Miguel space to think. "But this partnership would allow both of us to grow. You get talent and capital. I get development opportunities for my future stars."

Then he released Miguel's hand, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms casually.

The expression on his face was relaxed—but his eyes were sharp, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed Miguel's face.

Miguel didn't respond immediately.

He stared at Arthur, clearly weighing every word that had just been said.

And Arthur said nothing more—waiting patiently for the answer.

****

It was just after 8 p.m. when Arthur finally returned to the hotel, his body heavy with exhaustion. The long day of travel and meetings had left him drained, but the soft glow of the room's lights and the faint sound of television offered a welcome sense of calm.

As he opened the door, the scent of the hotel shampoo and faint traces of perfume greeted him. Inside, Shakira was already lounging on the sofa, legs curled up, watching TV in a loose robe. The moment she saw Arthur, her face lit up with the kind of joy that could revive even the most tired soul.

"You're back!" she beamed, practically bouncing up from the couch like a spring. Before he could say a word, she dashed across the room and jumped into his arms, wrapping herself around him like a koala. Then, without hesitation, she kissed him—long, warm, and full of the affection that only distance can build.

Arthur smiled against her lips and, after a breath, gently pulled back. "Missed me, huh?"

"Hmm, maybe a little," she teased with a wink. Then she leaned her head on his shoulder and asked with curiosity, "So? Did it go well?"

He ruffled her hair softly, chuckling at how eager she was. "Almost wrapped up. Allen's staying behind to handle the boring paperwork and number crunching. I figured I'd come back early... for someone who's been waiting."

Shakira's eyes sparkled. "That means you're free tomorrow?"

"Completely," Arthur nodded. "Didn't I promise I'd spend the day with you?"

Without waiting for a reply, he bent slightly, hooked his arms under her knees and back, and lifted her into a princess carry.

"Arthur! Hey—put me down!" she giggled, squirming half-heartedly.

"Too late," he grinned. "You're mine now."

But before he could make it to the bed, Shakira wrinkled her nose and smacked his chest gently. "Ugh! You stink. Put me down and shower first, you sweaty caveman."

Arthur laughed, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I am going to shower—was just planning to take someone with me."

Her protests didn't last long.

Soon enough, the sounds of splashing water and soft laughter filled the suite. Playful banter melted into warm intimacy, and time slipped away between steamy glass and stolen kisses.

After the shower, Arthur emerged first, carrying Shakira in his arms like a victorious knight. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, and her cheek rested lazily against his chest. She looked up at him with mock exasperation.

"Really now?" she muttered, her voice still hoarse from giggling. "You couldn't wait till dinner? Now I don't even have the strength to chew."

Arthur chuckled and lowered her gently onto the bed, brushing a few strands of hair from her face.

"Alright, my lady. Get dressed. I'll carry you to the table and even feed you myself if I have to."

Her eyes lit up at the offer, though she still played coy. "Hmmph, it's the least you could do after that disaster. You've turned me into a rag doll."

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Hey now, don't act so innocent. One minute you were talking about rest, next minute—boom! Shower turned into a warzone."

She raised an eyebrow and pointed dramatically at him. "You started it!"

"Oh please," he snorted. "You were the one giving those come-hither eyes the moment I walked through the door. Sitting on the sofa like a temptress."

"Temptress? Me?" she gasped, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him. "You're the one who can't go five minutes without turning into Romeo with a six-pack."

Arthur laughed and caught the pillow mid-air. "Guilty as charged. But can you blame me? You, in nothing but a hotel robe, walking around like that... what man could resist?"

Shakira rolled off the bed with exaggerated exhaustion and reached for a robe, muttering as she wrapped herself in it. "Well, resist next time. I'm tired. I don't care if you give me massages, whisper poetry, or even promise breakfast in bed—I might not let you do anything tonight."

Arthur leaned against the headboard, arms folded, trying to look serious. "You might not? So there's still a chance."

"You're hopeless."

"And you," he grinned, "are adorable when you pretend to be mad."

She turned away, trying to hide the smile playing on her lips. "Just get dressed. And don't even think about touching me until I've eaten."

"Touch you?" Arthur raised both hands in mock surrender. "Me? Never. I'm an innocent man."

She groaned dramatically. "You're about as innocent as a wolf in a tuxedo."

Arthur stood and walked over, pressing a kiss to her temple. "A wolf who's about to order room service. Now go sit down before I decide to prove just how hungry I still am."