Chapter 478: Chapter 478

After leaving the private room, Richard rejoined his players and staff to enjoy the party. After all, this was Manchester City’s private celebration — he had to make an appearance, right?

But throughout the night, Richard couldn’t quite shake off the weight on his mind. Though he smiled, toasted, and laughed when needed, there was a distant look in his eyes. Something about that dinner with Wiseman and Thompson lingered, stirring thoughts he couldn’t easily dismiss.

As the event wound down, instead of returning to Manchester that night, Richard decided to stay in London. It was already late, and he figured everyone could use a bit of rest after the long day.

He arranged for the team — players, staff, and their families — to stay overnight at the hotel as well.

"Enjoy the night here," he said with a small smile. "It’s on me."

The room erupted in cheers. Many of the younger players shouted in excitement, while the staff exchanged surprised, grateful looks. For them, it wasn’t just a gesture of generosity — it showed that their boss cared about them as more than just employees.

Richard watched the joy ripple through the group, quietly pleased. For a brief moment, the heavy thoughts that clouded his mind seemed to fade.

Tonight, at least, was for them — a celebration of how far they’d all come together.

Done with the arrangements, Richard excused himself and headed upstairs to his suite. The noise of laughter and music faded behind him, replaced by the gentle quiet of the night.

He stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the hotel’s private garden — a small oasis of calm in the heart of London. The faint scent of wet grass and blooming flowers lingered in the cool night air.

In his hand, he held a glass of orange juice. Not wine, not whiskey — just juice. He took a slow sip, his gaze drifting over the softly lit garden below, where the glow of lanterns shimmered against the polished stone paths.

It should have been a peaceful moment, yet Richard’s mind refused to rest. Deep down, irritation stirred.

Why did these people think they could manipulate him?

The FA wanted something, and the moment he refused, they acted as if the world had ended. The truth was, the world didn’t revolve around the FA. Everyone could stay civil — cooperate when necessary, and if not, simply walk their own paths without hostility.

He finished his orange juice and leaned wearily against the railing, his eyes tracing the quiet garden below. Perhaps, he thought, giving a private answer later might have been the smarter move — less direct, less confrontational. It would’ve spared their pride, at least.

But Richard had never been one for games of pretense.

Two years of managing Manchester City had taught him something vital: he thrived in the rhythm of football — the tension, the strategy, the unity of the team. It was in this world that he felt most alive.

He wasn’t afraid of the FA, not in the slightest. But football grounded him. It was the peace he had been searching for — yet today, that peace was broken.

Is it because his money?

If he ever had to choose between his business empire, the Maddox Group, and Manchester City, deep down he knew his heart would pick the club every time. Football wasn’t just a job — it was his passion, his escape, his truest self.

Still, passion alone couldn’t sustain a dream. He couldn’t be the owner of a great club without financial strength.

And that — that was why the Maddox Group was born.

"FA..." Richard muttered under his breath, the word lingering in the quiet night air

Although the FA’s control over the Premier League was largely nominal, the league had operated independently since its inception. The Premier League managed itself and kept all its revenues without sharing them with the FA. The long-standing tension between the FA and the Premier League committee stemmed from the fact that the league’s success had come at the expense of the three lower-tier divisions in English football.

The FA couldn’t control the Premier League, but it still wielded considerable influence over individual clubs. Over the years, Richard had managed his club not only through internal leadership but also through careful diplomacy. Fleet Street — home to the nation’s most influential newspapers — often amplified the voices of those invested in the "Big Four," portraying the Premier League in the best possible light.

It was always about competition.

Manchester United, Arsenal, Liverpool, and Chelsea — these were the giants. Originally, Leeds United, Blackburn Rovers, and Newcastle United had stood among them, but their recent performances had faltered.

Now, however, Manchester City was being hailed as the rising force that could change the balance of power — turning the Big Four into a Big Five.

It was probably also because of his stake in Sky Sports. To be honest, Richard had already done his best to stay balanced. As a football club owner, he knew that any sign of interference could easily backfire on him.

To avoid arousing suspicion within the FA, he rarely intervened in their affairs. Still, thanks to City’s recent rise, he had built valuable connections — not absolute power, but enough influence to open doors when needed.

Now, after his falling-out with Wiseman, Richard couldn’t help but worry about the potential impact on Manchester City’s relationship with the FA.

"After all... they control the referees," he murmured under his breath.

He exhaled softly and shook his head, forcing a small, dismissive smile.

’It’s probably just paranoia,’ he told himself

"See? That’s what happens when you get too involved in politics. It never ends."

After spending over half an hour gazing at the garden, Richard brushed aside his worries and went for a shower before getting some sleep.

Time passed, and nothing significant happened during the interim. Once the City players who had been on FIFA duty returned, training resumed.

On the training ground, however, the returning players spotted some very unfamiliar faces: André Villas-Boas and Antonio Pintus.

Both had completed all the necessary formalities and officially joined Manchester City.

After the first day of training, Antonio Pintus, dressed in sports gear, crossed his arms. Richard quickly noticed that Pintus seemed deep in thought, his brow slightly furrowed.

Richard shifted his gaze from the pitch, with a hint of amusement, asked, "Was my invitation too abrupt?"

Pintus snapped back to reality, shaking his head though the frown lingered. "No... it’s just that, to be honest, I find our training too easy. The intensity is low. Is that the secret? Letting the players conserve energy during training so they can unleash it during matches? Is that why the team performs so well?"

Richard was taken aback. "Not really. The past couple of days were an exception — many players have just returned from national duty and are still jet-lagged. If we pushed them too hard right now, they’d not only be physically drained but mentally resistant as well."

Pintus nodded thoughtfully, realizing his oversight. "Ah, yes... I suppose I’d forgotten about that."

Richard thought for a moment before asking, "Do you have any idea what you want to do?"

"I mean, I won’t restrict you here. You can do whatever you want, as long as you consult with the physio team and your manager."

Hearing that, Pintus laughed. "To be honest, if I did that, I’d probably make it very unpleasant for them."

Richard’s mouth twitched slightly. It seemed the carefree pace of the past few days would soon be shattered with the arrival of this sergeants.

He then stayed silent, simply looking at him.

"...You’re kidding, right?"

Richard shook his head, "go for it."

In fact, he hoped Pintus could bring valuable expertise from Serie A, showing the players not just tactical insights but also how professional athletes in Italy trained their bodies.

At first, when City’s results had been somewhat disappointing, Richard had considered recruiting a famous ex-footballer as a coach.

Coaching, however, is about guiding others. An ex-footballer turned coach can use their experience to inspire players, design training sessions, and motivate the team effectively.

For example, when Chelsea recruited Ruud Gullit, they didn’t just hire him for his football knowledge. They aimed to leverage both his superstar status and his coaching persona. His presence could make players more enthusiastic during training and instill professionalism, showing that influence and experience often matter as much as technical ability.

After some consideration, Richard decided to settle on Villas-Boas and Pintus. Training under a non-ex-footballer also had advantages. Even without professional playing experience, they could evaluate players objectively, identifying strengths and weaknesses purely through observation and analysis.

Antonio Pintus, hearing Richard, smiled but said nothing.

As the other players trickled out, the team began warming up before training. Richard pulled O’Neill aside to discuss a few matters, while Mourinho briefly outlined the day’s training tasks to the rest of the coaching staff. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ nοvelfire.net

Pintus, especially, was very serious about his first day as City’s fitness coach. He listened attentively, jotting down key points. What satisfied Richard was, he wasn’t trying to assert his own opinions; he was simply absorbing Mourinho’s instructions.

Once he became comfortable in his new role, he would start sharing his insights, adjusting them to fit the club’s culture. For now, any suggestions he made would largely stem from a player’s perspective, which wasn’t fully mature yet.

Having spent nearly a decade in Italy, Pintus was no stranger to training or adapting to new clubs. Moving between teams was already second nature to him. Richard nodded, noting his professionalism.