Football Dynasty-Chapter 526: The Punishment

The next day was painfully early. The club gates were supposed to be closed, but Richard had arrived at the meeting room well before dawn. He settled at the head of the table, one leg crossed, fingers drumming lightly against the surface as if rehearsing a rhythm only he could hear.

British paparazzi are notorious, not just for the intensity of the scandals they expose, but also for being far more intrusive than their counterparts in other countries. Once a story surfaced, they didn’t stop. When it comes to tracking down scoops after news breaks, they excel, leaving even Germany, Spanish, or even Italian journalists far behind, who lack the same degree of sensitivity and awareness.

Richard knew this all too well from his playing days.

Having dealt with the media extensively during his professional playing career, he had weathered many storms and knew what kind of situation awaited him. Today, however, he wasn’t just a player; he was the club’s owner. To avoid unnecessary attention, he had quietly slipped out of his parents’ house, bypassing the usual crowd that gathered outside Maine Road in the early morning.

The meeting room door swung open, and Mourinho stepped in, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. He had received Richard’s call and come straight to the club. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

"I’ve heard about the situation. How should we handle it?" Mourinho asked, his voice tight.

As a rookie manager at a top club, he looked tense—an understandable reaction. This wasn’t a typical training or transfer issue; this was personal lives spilling over into public perception, a scenario he hadn’t prepared for.

Richard sighed. Why do things like this happen, even after he had already dismissed O’Neill?

In fact, something like this had happened before, but he had given O’Neill full control because he trusted him to handle it. But in Mourinho’s case?

Richard could help position him, as it was also his first time dealing with such matters. Typically, as long as players weren’t deliberately slacking off, a coach wouldn’t make a big deal out of issues related to club management. Especially with the exemplary captains in the first team, the other players dared not act out during training.

But when it came to personal lives outside the pitch, could he, as club owner, really intervene?

Perhaps yes, perhaps not.

However, when a player’s private life tarnishes the club’s image, Richard felt it was his responsibility as the owner to intervene—just like Florentino Pérez, who stationed security at Ronaldo’s door and even added extra guards to monitor the player’s behavior.

Mourinho sat down without taking a sip of water, his forehead creased with concern.

"They were all energetic young men, and it’s normal to be interested in women. But why did they have to go looking for call girls? Even Lampard was involved—well, he..."

Mourinho genuinely feared that the players might ruin themselves with their chaotic personal lives, and a string of anxious thoughts tumbled from his mind.

Richard felt nothing but anger and disappointment. Yet seeing José Mourinho’s distraught expression made him empathize with the young Special One, which in turn only heightened his anger toward the players’ actions.

What was it? Was it because Mourinho was a new coach? Or simply an inexperienced manager?

’Look at how much effort your coach puts into you, how he constantly thinks about nurturing your talent and helping you succeed—and what are you all doing?!’

Richard wanted to scream, but he restrained himself, exhaling deeply to control his temper.

He definitely chose to take a more personalized and lenient approach to the club management. His style of management had nothing to do with an iron fist; he preferred to communicate patiently with players rather than imposing a long list of "disciplinary" rules and punishing anyone who violated them without giving any room for appeal.

As he thought about this, Richard’s mouth twitched. He was instantly reminded of the falling-out between Rafael Benítez and Xabi Alonso at Liverpool FC.

To be honest, if Rafa Benítez were hearing Richard’s approach to the club management—even if it was meant to instill these ideas in Mourinho—he would definitely have disagreed. Benítez believed that teams should be managed like military units.

If Richard remembered correctly, there had been a historical incident at Liverpool involving Rafael Benítez and Xabi Alonso, a situation that lingered in football lore. Their relationship had soured, largely because Benítez’s style lacked emotional flexibility.

When Alonso had requested leave for family reasons, Benítez reportedly responded coldly, almost dismissively: "Go ahead, but don’t bother coming back."

Alonso did return, only to eventually leave the club, parting ways with Anfield for good.

Discipline was essential in a team, but management was more than a set of rigid rules or strict orders. It was about understanding human behavior, the pressures of personal life, and balancing authority with empathy.

A coach could demand professionalism, but an overly rigid approach risked alienating players, even the most talented ones. In his own philosophy, Richard believed in leading with a mixture of structure and understanding—knowing when to push, when to guide, and when to simply listen. That was the difference between a team that followed orders and a team that thrived.

For instance, last season, why did a player of Trezeguet’s quality never get playing time under O’Neill, despite performing well in the U-17 team?

Even such a talented player went through a phase where he took a lot of sick leave, using childish excuses to get time off—once claiming someone was ill, another time citing an "emergency." He even fabricated a friendly match involving the French U21 team to justify his absence.

O’Neill checked every match of the French youth teams and could never find any record of the games Trezeguet had claimed to miss. He then reported this to Richard.

For someone who valued discipline, O’Neill would naturally have dropped him. But Richard thought it was better to correct him rather than punish him outright. He not only scolded Trezeguet, but also explained his reasoning: he showed him his performance ratings and training reports, encouraging him to see for himself the downturn in his skills and how the quality of his training had shifted. Then he let Trezeguet reflect on whether he wanted to keep taking leave for trivial excuses or commit fully to playing honestly and achieving his childhood dreams—realizing the true value of his life.

And see this season?

Look at how many goals Trezeguet bang.

Under this management style, he turned his life around. He apologized, came clean about everything, and made a comeback, quickly regaining his form.

To be honest, Richard really didn’t want to pry into the players’ private lives; he felt it would make him come across as a nagging parent or a babysitter.

"I want to call their agents immediately, but I think I need to say something to you first—how we should handle this."

Richard reassured Mourinho and then closed his eyes for a moment. Handling such matters was embarrassing for him. Fortunately, it was after hours, and the U-17 squad was still on break, home for the holidays. Otherwise, who knew how many players might have been drawn into this scandal?

Legally speaking, the players weren’t breaking any laws—seeking out call girls was legal. Money was exchanged, and the intention was mutual.

But morally, it was utterly disgraceful.

Most men, if given the chance, might fantasize about such indulgences, perhaps even a wild night with attractive companions. But what goes on in one’s mind is one thing—having it play out in public is something entirely different.

"Goddammit!"

Richard was growing impatient, realizing that the main culprits at the center of the storm were probably still fast asleep after a night of debauchery.

Time passed, and soon it was already 9 a.m.

As always, the players were standing on the training ground in twos and threes, while the coaches remained on the sidelines. The new manager, José Mourinho, and his assistant, Baltimar Brito, were standing at the entrance to the passageway, facing the direction of the locker room.

Pirlo, who was still in his recovery phase, found this a little strange. Why hadn’t training started yet? Wasn’t everyone here? What were they waiting for?

He looked left and right and noticed that his teammates were equally perplexed. ’Isn’t it usually time to warm up by now?’

With no other choice, he decided to follow the staff, facing the direction of the locker room along with everyone else who had already arrived. Just as he and the others were feeling uncertain about the situation, the main protagonist finally appeared.

Seeing him, Brito stopped the stopwatch and handed it to Mourinho.

Mourinho looked at the time displayed: five minutes and forty-nine seconds. Tossing the stopwatch back, he muttered to his assistant, "Women change clothes faster than he does."

Brito shrugged.

With his head lowered, Ronaldo was still fastening the belt on his shorts as he walked out. He clearly did not see Mourinho and Brito standing to the side. Just as he was about to pass them without looking up, a sharp "shhh-shhh" from the training field stopped him.

Mourinho turned his head and glanced at the players, and the noise stopped immediately. Brito called out to stop the last man.

"Ronaldo."

Hearing his name, Ronaldo finally raised his head. Seeing the two men standing in front of him, he immediately realized he might be in trouble.

The assistant manager, Baltimar Brito, and an unfamiliar man both wore the same expression—straight-faced and unsmiling.

"Uh... what’s the matter, coach?" Ronaldo asked.

Mourinho did not speak. Instead, Brito said, "Ronaldo, winner of the Ballon d’Or 1997/1998, scored more than 50 goals last season, and managed City to two prestigious trophies. These statistics are not bad at all." His words left Ronaldo confused.

"But..." Brito continued, holding up four fingers, "this season, only four goals so far, right?"

Ronaldo was taken aback. He could not understand what this man was trying to do. He could only stand there, silent.

"You’re in the wrong place for today’s training," Mourinho said. Not wanting to linger, he suddenly pointed toward the northeast side. Beyond a row of trees and a wire fence, there was another training ground. "You should be training on the second field."

"...What?" Ronaldo thought he had heard wrong.

Mourinho nodded. "Congratulations, Mr. Ronaldo. From now on, you’re a member of the U-17 team. Since we do not currently have a reserve team, you must set a good example for them."

The shock on Ronaldo’s face was mirrored by the confusion of everyone else on the field, waiting for training to start. No one expected that the new manager’s first move would be to change the locker room atmosphere after hearing about the general situation there.

"Why?" Ronaldo asked, growing anxious. He knew the straight-faced man in front of him was the new manager. "Why do you want me in the U-17 team?"

"Because today, that’s where you’re training," Mourinho replied, shrugging his shoulders. After saying this, he turned and walked toward the training field, ignoring the poor player who was now tardy.

"Ah, by the way," he stopped and added, "for anyone else heading to the training ground late, please inform them as well. Anyone late today will also train with the U-17s. Okay? Thank you very much."

This answer stumped Ronaldo for a moment. He looked at the back of Mourinho and then at his teammates on the field. Only after noticing the missing players did he realize...

"I’m screwed this time."