Football Dynasty-Chapter 559: The Project for David Silva

"I guess it would be easier with Valencia or Barcelona." Richard said to himself with a sigh.

Rather than Valencia or Barcelona, at Manchester City—a club in Manchester—you have to consider the language barrier, the cultural differences, and the personalities of players from all over the world.

While waiting for David Silva and his family to make a decision, Richard kept himself busy by closely following Manchester City’s matches in the Premier League.

Wimbledon 1 vs 2 Manchester City

Nottingham Forest 0 - 3 Manchester City

Manchester City 2 - 0 Liverpool

The upcoming match against Liverpool was the most anticipated fixture for Manchester City in their last three games. For Richard, it wasn’t just another game—it promised to be both challenging and manageable in different ways.

Challenging because Michael Owen had been in brilliant form this season. Yet manageable because Liverpool seemed to have lost much of their motivation. They were no longer mounting a serious title challenge and appeared to be a side in transition, adapting to a new head coach and style of play.

This was evident in their transfer activity: the arrival of new signing Rigobert Song, and the departures of players like Jason McAteer and Rob Jones, as well as the club’s longest-serving player Steve Harkness, who joined Benfica on 7 March 1999 after nearly ten years at Anfield.

By January, Liverpool’s squad had been reshuffled. The appointment of former France national team coach Gérard Houllier as joint manager alongside Roy Evans was initially seen as the club’s best chance to mount a title challenge. However, Evans did not enjoy the partnership and resigned by the end of march, leaving Houllier in sole charge.

As if this weren’t enough, the club’s failure to retain Steve McManaman, who transferred to Real Madrid at the end of the season in a deal labeled the Bosman scandal of the year, also hurt Liverpool financially. Performance-wise, their position in the league was insufficient even to challenge for a Champions League spot, marking the club’s lowest finish in five years.

In the end, they traveled to Maine Road for a highly anticipated encounter with Manchester City—but lost 2–0. The defeat left them in sixth place in the league, while City moved up to third, overtaking Chelsea, who had drawn in their last match against Tottenham Hotspur.

The league standings were now:

Manchester United — 72 points

Arsenal — 70 points

Aston Villa — 68 points

Manchester City — 68 points

Chelsea — 67 points

Liverpool — 63 points

"Well done..." Richard muttered to himself, focusing on Manchester City’s upcoming schedule.

Next on the agenda: the FA Cup sixth-round clash against Barnsley, followed by a challenging league fixture against Aston Villa.

Barnsley, the only non-Premier League team to reach the FA Cup sixth-round, promised to be a tricky opponent.

Manchester City traveled directly to Oakwell, Barnsley. For this match, Richard had invited David Silva to watch the game with him from his hotel. Of course, Silva’s mother accompanied them as well, though she mostly spent her time with Marina, leaving Richard once again alone with the 12-year-old David.

PHWEEEEE~

The Barnsley vs. Manchester City match was underway!

Early in the game, Hidetoshi Nakata opened the scoring for Manchester City in the 17th minute with an incredible strike from 30 yards. Richard winced as the ball sailed into the net.

Soon after, Barnsley thought they had equalized, but Richard saw their goal disallowed for offside against Ashley Ward. The frustration was palpable, yet the game was far from over. Midway through the second half, the Barnsley fans could be heard chanting the name of their once-influential captain, Neil Redfearn.

Hearing that clearly on the television, young David Silva turned to Richard, curiosity written all over his face.

"Who is Neil Redfearn?"

"What?" Richard asked, slightly surprised.

"Neil Redfearn. Who is he?"

"Oh, him." Richard nodded. His Spanish wasn’t perfect yet, so sometimes he misunderstood what he said.

"You could say he’s a legend for Barnsley," Richard explained.

"Legend?" David’s eyes widened. "But why are they shouting his name?"

"They’re not angry at him," Richard shook his head. "They’re angry at the club." He leaned back, trying to find the right words. "You’ll understand when you see it happen: a player who’s already made 338 first-team appearances suddenly leaves the club out of nowhere. He’s earned every bit of respect and admiration—he’s a legend, and they’re shouting because the club let him go, not because of him."

David looked thoughtful, absorbing the lesson.

In the opening seconds of the second half, the unexpected happened: Gennaro Gattuso was sent off for a foul on Ashley Ward, earning his second yellow card and giving Barnsley a penalty.

Richard’s mouth twitched involuntarily at the sight.

"And Ward steps up... a golden opportunity for Barnsley... Robinson leans left... and he makes the save! Incredible composure under pressure! Ward thought he had him, but Robinson reads it perfectly!"

Thankfully, Paul Robinson guessed correctly, diving to his left to save Ward’s penalty. The ball ricocheted harmlessly off his outstretched hands and rolled away harmlessly, and the crowd erupted in a mix of relief and disbelief.

David Silva, sitting beside him, gasped in amazement. "He knew... he knew where it would go!"

"Or course he know it." Richard nodded.

And the next... is magic.

In normal time, Robert Pires pounced on a loose pass from Barnsley’s Sean McClare just inside their half. With a sudden burst of speed, he accelerated past Darren Barnard, who lunged in vain for a tackle. Pires’ first touch was silky, barely giving the defender time to react, and his low center of gravity allowed him to glide past Barnard.

First kill.

The Barnsley fans groaned as Pires approached Arjan de Zeeuw, who tried to block the angle. But Pires shifted the ball effortlessly from his right foot to his left, a subtle feint that sent de Zeeuw sliding harmlessly past him.

Double kill.

Next came Scott Jones, the third defender, who squared up, trying to force Pires wide. But Pires’ vision and composure were sublime—he leaned slightly, as if inviting Jones to commit, then threaded a narrow gap between the defender’s legs and surged forward.

Triple kill.

The stadium erupted in cheers and disbelief. The commentator’s voice boomed:

"Absolutely phenomenal! Robert Pires—three defenders left in his wake!"

The crowd leaned forward, sensing something extraordinary about to happen. Lars Leese, the Barnsley goalkeeper, advanced cautiously, narrowing the angle. Pires measured his run, took one precise touch, and with a delicate left-footed strike, sent the ball soaring into the roof of the net.

"And he finishes with absolute composure! What a masterclass of skill, balance, and vision! Absolutely phenomenal!"

The stadium erupted. The commentator’s voice boomed over the speakers:

"What a goal! From Robert Pires! He’s danced through four defenders—and yes, he’s counted them all! Absolutely sensational! That’s a masterpiece of skill and composure!"

David Silva’s eyes widened. "Three... no, four! He’s beaten four players in one run—and finished it?!"

He was enthralled. ’Did he just do all that alone?’

It could be hailed almost immediately as one of the greatest goals ever scored in the history of the FA Cup. Every commentator, every fan in the stands, and every viewer at home knew they had witnessed something extraordinary—a moment of pure brilliance that would be replayed for years to come.

David Silva, still wide-eyed from Pires’ run, nodded eagerly. "I want to be able to do that someday," he whispered.

Richard smiled. "Of course you will. There’s no doubt about it."

Seeing Richard say that with such conviction left David Silva confused. He studied Richard for a moment, then asked, "Mr. Richard, I’m curious... why did you want me on your team when I was still just a ’kid’ in your eyes? Your team clearly needs players in their prime."

"But I can’t afford stars," Richard continued, his tone firm yet patient. "I can only develop them myself. You may not believe this, but I have a video on my desk of you playing for a San Fernando community team as a kid. I have scouts at my club, and you were one of the gems they discovered. Your potential, your belief in your own future—that’s why I want to bring you to Manchester, so you can grow into a leading figure at Manchester City."

Of course, the words "can’t afford stars" were a little bullshit. It was more of a rhetorical flourish than the truth. But, the project to involve David Silva in the future of Manchester City was very real. In fact, David’s destiny seemed inextricably linked to the club.

From the very beginning, Richard had seen it: Silva’s skill, vision, and intelligence were meant for Manchester City. And in the years to come, if he could gather players like Yaya Touré or Fernandinho...

Richard shook his head. That was for the future. Right now, he wanted to build a team capable of defining an era—just like Barcelona did with their magic under Xavi, Iniesta, Busquets.

David Silva’s eyes widened in disbelief. "You wanted me... to be captain?"

Richard waved his hand dismissively. "Not necessarily. Being a captain isn’t just about skill. It requires qualities like influence, the ability to unite a team, charisma, fighting spirit, and the ability to set an example. Strength alone isn’t enough. When I say ’leading figure,’ I mean that, in seven to eight years, you could become a benchmark for players your age. Others would aspire to match your skill, and it would be an honor for them to compete with you. Leadership comes with that too."

David stroked his chin, curiosity and awe mingling in his expression. "You think so highly of me?"

Richard leaned back, studying the boy. "Don’t you believe you can become a great player?"

David fell silent, lost in thought, imagining the future Richard had laid out.