NOVEL WEB Chapter 16: Chapter 16 – Defeating Ferguson
Chapter 16 – Defeating Ferguson
"I finally understand your insistence."
As Yang Cheng was called back to the technical area by the fourth official, Brian Kidd was still smiling.
Having played professionally since youth, won the Champions League with Manchester United, and coached for decades, Kidd understood better than anyone what this match meant for Bayswater Chinese FC.
Three points?
No, it meant far more.
This game marked the first time the team had fought back from adversity, pulling two goals back while down.
Winning or not—it didn't matter as much.
What mattered was that, after this match, Yang Cheng's team would reach a new level—tactically, mentally, and emotionally.
"I told you, Modrić is going to be one of the best midfielders in the world!"
Yang Cheng said it with absolute certainty.
Kidd couldn't say for sure whether that would happen—but he now clearly saw Modrić's value to this team.
To any team, in fact.
Technique? Passing? Vision? Tempo control?
Sure, but that wasn't the rare part.
What truly set Modrić apart was his fearlessness under pressure—his ability to receive and release the ball under intense pressing.
That kind of player had always been rare throughout football history.
Modrić wasn't fully mature yet—still thin, still developing.
But Yang Cheng had spotted his potential early.
He'd used the Exceptional Talent Clause just to sign him.
And when Modrić made costly mistakes, Yang resisted the critics, keeping him in the starting XI.
Today, Modrić had rewarded that faith with growth and impact.
Kidd found himself admiring Yang Cheng even more.
"That link-up between Ribéry and Modrić was really something," he added.
In Yang Cheng's system, Ribéry's dribbling and Modrić's midfield control were the twin pillars.
Meanwhile, the team's top scorer Stead and best passer Rowlands were almost supporting cast.
Or rather, not indispensable.
"It's a shame our right winger isn't strong enough. And our fullbacks, especially on the right, lack offensive ability. If we had better options there, we'd already be flying."
Kidd chuckled at that.
That was life in the lower leagues. Talent was limited.
…
The match ended 3–3.
Bayswater hadn't managed to beat Brighton at home—but a draw was still a decent result.
As Yang Cheng walked out to greet his players, Brighton's manager Steve Coppell approached Brian Kidd.
Both were United men and knew each other well.
Coppell had one burning question: Why would Brian Kidd drop to League Two as an assistant?
If he were the head coach, that might make sense.
But assistant? Really?
"They pay well," Kidd said, completely straight-faced.
Coppell didn't buy it. His eyes shifted toward Yang Cheng.
This 3–3 draw had revealed a lot.
And from the match itself, it was clear—Bayswater were the ones controlling the game.
Those fluid, rapid-fire passing sequences—they stuck in Coppell's mind.
Such tactics were rare in English football.
"He reminds me of Wenger," Coppell muttered, "but even more aggressive."
Kidd followed his gaze to where Yang Cheng stood, leading the players in thanking the fans, and smiled.
"Maybe he can give me what I've always wanted. That's why I came here."
Coppell blinked, then looked at Yang Cheng again, this time more seriously.
"Then I wish you luck."
Because he knew what Kidd meant.
And not just Kidd. Every coach who came from Manchester United.
Every coach in England.
They all knew.
Ferguson was the mountain they could never climb.
To defeat Ferguson—that was the dream they had all chased.
It was the ultimate tribute.
…
That night, Stamford Bridge was lit up like day.
When referee Mike Dean blew the final whistle, the over 40,000 Chelsea fans were far from happy.
2–2.
Chelsea had been held at home by Blackburn.
It was Round 4 of the Premier League.
Club owner Roman Abramovich, accompanied by chairman Bruce Buck, agent Pini Zahavi, and others, watched from his VIP box.
And he was deeply disappointed in Ranieri.
This summer, the Russian billionaire had spent heavily: Crespo, Duff, Mutu, Verón, Makélélé, Bridge, Geremi, Joe Cole…
He had dropped nearly £120 million.
In pounds!
And this was the result? Two wins and two draws? Sitting fourth?
Meanwhile, Arsenal had started with four straight wins and already pulled four points ahead.
Yes, the season was long.
But Abramovich hated falling behind at the starting line.
"Ranieri doesn't look like a man who can bring success," he said coldly.
As someone who'd dealt with countless people in business, Abramovich trusted his gut.
Ranieri didn't have the aura of a winner.
Pini Zahavi nodded politely, smiling.
He'd made a fortune off this summer's transfers.
Just in commissions alone.
"Don't worry, Roman. I'm already scouting. I'll bring you the best coach in Europe."
Abramovich turned to him with a teasing grin.
"You also said we'd have that amateur club from up north wrapped up in a month. How long's it been?"
Zahavi laughed awkwardly. "Didn't expect that kid to be so difficult."
"He really made himself coach?"
"Yes. Total nonsense."
It was League Two. Most people didn't even know.
But those who did thought it was absurd.
Twenty-three years old. The owner's son. Head coach?
What kind of rich kid mess was this?
"A little nonsense might not be bad. But you need to figure it out—and fast."
Money wasn't a problem for Roman Abramovich.
Zahavi paused, then nodded. "I've been talking to that guy Lin, but they're not interested in negotiating right now. I think we might have better luck going after the firm that loaned them the money."
"I had Cash Harris look into them. Small firm. Nothing special in the City. Should be doable."
"Then get on it."
Abramovich turned back toward the pitch.
He'd disliked Stamford Bridge from the moment he first saw it.
He already had land for a new training center—and he couldn't wait to buy Bayswater Stadium.
He wanted to build the most luxurious stadium in Europe—maybe even the world.
Only something that grand would be worthy of the powerhouse he was building.
…
Next morning.
While media across Europe (and the world) mocked Chelsea's back-to-back draws, over at Elvino Asset Management, Chris Hunter was summoned to the boss's office.
"Take a look."
The boss handed him the latest Sun weekend sports page.
In a small, easy-to-miss corner, the League Two table and match results were printed.
Bayswater Chinese FC 3–3 Brighton, now 15th in the table.
Brighton had slipped one place to fourth after the draw.
"I don't know what you were thinking, believing that club could turn things around."
"Look at them—five rounds in, 15th place. No different from past seasons. They're clearly a relegation-tier team."
Hunter held back through the tirade, only speaking when his boss paused for breath.
"Sir, the season's just begun. I've been monitoring the club closely. Long-term—"
"Don't talk to me about long-term," the boss cut him off.
"I never intended to play the long game."
"If we let that Chinese kid keep running wild, the club's getting relegated for sure. Not even Brian Kidd can save it."
"You've seen what disasters happen in the Championship and League One—even the Premier League. Countless clubs have blown it."
"All I care about now is my £3 million!"
Hunter twitched slightly.
Wasn't it £2 million...?
But he said nothing.
"I've been thinking—we can't just sit back and let them make a mess. It's time we did something."
Hunter blinked.
The money's already loaned—what else could they do?
"The land…"
The boss's eyes gleamed.
There was greed in that glint.
"I know there are other clubs and companies interested in that land. We need to move. Pull it out, sell it. Flip it."
Hunter's brow furrowed.
That was... dark. Ruthless.
The boss sneered. "Don't forget, Chris—according to the contract, if they sell the land within two years, we get 20%."
That's when it clicked.
The boss never believed Bayswater would recover.
The moment he lent the money, he'd already planned to seize the land and flip it.
High interest from the club.
20% commission on the sale.
A fat bonus for brokering the deal.
Maybe even a cut from the buyer.
One asset, multiple profits.
"Keep your mouth shut for now. Watch them closely."
"When I've lined up a buyer and everything's ready—we'll make our move."
Chris Hunter sighed inwardly.
This was the difference between an employee and a boss.
So damn ruthless.
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