naaapseattle Chapter 312: £85M DEAL!
Chapter 312: £85M DEAL!
Michael sat in his office at the Barnsley FC training complex, feeling exhausted.His phone had been vibrating non-stop for three hours.
Sky Sports News was playing on the television mounted on his wall, and the presenters were completely losing their minds.
The headline flashing in bright yellow at the bottom of the screen was simple but devastating:
BREAKING: ARDA GÜLER SIGNS FOR BARNSLEY FC IN SHOCK £85M DEAL!
Michael smiled. He felt a deep, overwhelming sense of pride. He had done the impossible. He had traveled to the mighty Real Madrid and stolen their golden boy. The transfer had sent shockwaves through the entire footballing world.
Suddenly, his private mobile phone chimed with a unique ringtone. It was a WhatsApp message.
Michael picked it up. He was very surprised to see an unknown number with a Spanish country code.
[Unknown Number]: Arda Güler to Yorkshire... You are either completely crazy, Michael, or you are a terrifying genius~
Michael raised an eyebrow. He typed back quickly.
[Michael]: Who is this?
[Unknown Number]: It is Pep. I was drinking my coffee and I nearly choked when I saw the news. A remarkable signing... truly.
Michael sat up straight. Pep Guardiola. The legendary manager of Manchester City. The man who had won everything. To get a personal message from him meant that Barnsley was no longer flying under the radar. They were officially a threat.
[Michael]: Thanks, Pep. We are just trying to build something special here. No magic, just hard work.
[Pep Guardiola]: Oh, please... Don’t give me the humble act! I know a masterstroke when I see one. But I am curious... how are you going to balance them all? You have Kaito Tanaka. You have Enzo Moretti. Now you have Arda. There is only one ball on the pitch, my friend...
Michael leaned back in his chair. He loved talking tactics. He felt a surge of excitement as he began to explain his vision to one of the greatest minds in the sport. He decided to be completely honest.
[Michael]: It is simple. I am shifting from our old 4-3-3 to an asymmetric 4-2-3-1. We are not relying on individual miracles or playing like gods. We are going to rely on human endurance and brutal efficiency.
[Pep Guardiola]: Ah! The double pivot? So Enzo drops deeper?
[Michael]: Exactly. Enzo becomes the deep-lying playmaker. He dictates the tempo from the back. Arda plays as the pure Number 10, but he has total freedom to drift to the right half-space. This creates an overload. Jax will stretch the width on the right wing, pulling the left-back away.
[Pep Guardiola]: I see... And that leaves the entire left channel isolated for Kaito... Very clever~ If the defense shifts to stop Arda and Jax, Kaito is left one-on-one. And Kaito with space is lethal. But what about the defensive transition? Arda does not like to tackle...
[Michael]: That is where the sweat comes in. Our new midfield destroyer, ’The Butcher’ from Argentina, covers the ground behind Arda. We press high, but we press as a synchronized unit. No one gets to walk. Not even the superstar.
There was a long pause on the chat. Michael could see the ’typing...’ indicator flashing for almost a full minute.
[Pep Guardiola]: It is a bold system, Michael. Very aggressive. It requires lungs of steel. You are relying on human achievement and perfect physical conditioning. If they get tired, the system collapses...
[Michael]: They won’t get tired. I will make sure of it.
[Pep Guardiola]: Good luck in the Champions League draw tonight, my friend. We might see each other in Europe. Just remember... my Erling Haaland has upgraded his software this summer~ See you on the touchline.
Michael locked his phone. He was extremely satisfied with the conversation. It clarified his own thoughts.
[Ding!]
[Football Empire System]
[Hidden Objective Completed: Tactical Discourse with a Mastermind!]
[System Note:] You have successfully defended your tactical philosophy against a legendary manager. Your understanding of the ’Asymmetric Overload’ has reached maximum level!
[Reward: Squad Tactical Familiarity increased by 20%. Arda Güler’s integration time reduced by half.]
"Perfect," Michael said aloud.
Suddenly, the door to his office burst open.
Arthur Milton practically fell into the room, holding a clipboard like a shield. Behind him was Bastion King, the giant offensive coach, who was dragging a shivering Kaito Tanaka by the collar of his jacket.
"Boss! Disaster averted!" Arthur panted, shoving a red jelly baby into his mouth to calm his nerves. "We got Kaito out of the new German cryo-chamber! He accidentally locked the door from the inside while making a TikTok video!"
Kaito was wrapped in three thick Barnsley towels. His teeth were chattering loudly. "B-B-Boss... I thought I was going to freeze! It was negative one hundred degrees! I saw penguins, Boss... I swear I saw penguins..."
Michael sighed, feeling a mix of amusement and sheer disbelief. "There are no penguins in Yorkshire, Kaito. Are you injured?"
"N-No," Kaito shivered. "My hamstrings feel very fresh... but my soul is cold."
"He’s fine," Bastion grunted, dropping Kaito onto the office sofa. "He just needs to run ten laps around the pitch to warm up. But not now. The draw is starting, Michael. Kenji has the television ready in the VIP lounge."
The Champions League Group Stage Draw.
The weight of those words hit Michael like a physical punch. This was the moment of truth. He stood up, adjusted his gray suit, and walked out of the office, followed by Arthur, Bastion, and a very cold Japanese winger.
The VIP lounge was packed. The entire first-team squad was there. Jax was nervously biting his nails. Enzo Moretti was sipping an espresso, trying to look calm but failing. Arda Güler, who had just arrived from the airport two hours ago, was sitting quietly in the corner, taking in the chaotic energy of his new team.
Kenji Sato was pacing back and forth in front of the massive 100-inch television, wearing a bespoke suit made entirely of purple silk.
"Quiet! Quiet everyone!" Kenji shouted, waving a piece of premium sushi in the air. "The bald man in the UEFA suit is touching the balls!"
On the screen, the glamorous ceremony in Monaco was underway. The UEFA officials were pulling small plastic balls from glass bowls, deciding the fate of Europe’s elite clubs.
"Group F," the announcer on the television said smoothly. "The first team drawn from Pot 1 is... FC Bayern Munich."
A collective groan echoed through the Barnsley lounge. Bayern Munich. The German giants.
"It’s okay," Arthur whispered, writing furiously on his clipboard. "We can handle Bayern. We just need a lucky draw for Pot 2..."
The official opened the next ball. "From Pot 2, joining Group F... AC Milan."
Enzo Moretti spilled his espresso on his trousers. "Mamma mia..." he whispered. "The San Siro. They will eat us alive."
Michael felt a surge of adrenaline. This was not a lucky draw. This was a nightmare.
"And now, from Pot 3," the official continued, reaching into the next glass bowl. He twisted the plastic ball open and pulled out a small piece of paper. He smiled at the camera.
"Barnsley FC."
The room went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop.
Group F: Bayern Munich. AC Milan. Barnsley FC.
It was the undeniable, undisputed Group of Death. They were going up against the absolute royalty of European football.
Jax looked like he was about to cry. "Boss... Bayern Munich has Harry Kane... AC Milan has Rafael Leão... we are going to get cooked on international television..."
"I don’t want to play in Germany," Kaito whined, still shivering in his towels. "It is very cold in Germany..."
Even Arda Güler looked slightly pale. He had left Real Madrid to find glory, but this was a terrifying mountain to climb.
Michael walked to the front of the room. He turned off the television. The sudden silence forced everyone to look at him. He needed to establish their mindset right now.
"Look at yourselves," Michael said, his voice completely calm but carrying an intense authority. "You look terrified."
He walked over to Jax. "Jax. You are scared of AC Milan? Good. Fear is a human emotion. It keeps you alert. It makes you run faster."
He turned to the whole room. He felt the absolute certainty of his tactical plan and the strength of the system backing him.
"The media is going to say we are dead," Michael told them, making eye contact with every single player. "They are going to say that Bayern and Milan are football gods. But let me tell you a secret... there are no gods on the football pitch. There are only men."
Michael pointed at Arda. "We have the best young playmaker in the world."
He pointed at Kaito. "We have a winger who can outrun a sports car."
He pointed to his own head. "And you have me~"