Chapter 304: Chapter 251: I Have Too Many Titles, I Don’t Need This One

After a heavy downpour, the sky cleared magnificently.

3:30 PM local time, Shizuoka Stadium. The temperature on the pitch was 28 degrees, with a wind speed of 1.4 meters per second and 47 percent humidity.

As fans filled the stands, a sweltering heat began to permeate the air.

"Dean, aren’t you hot?" From his front-row seat at the center of the stadium, Chen Yu—clad in a short-sleeved shirt, shorts, and sunglasses—turned to ask the tall man beside him.

The man’s name was Dean. He was a bodyguard assigned to Chen Yu by the FBI for security purposes, responsible for his personal safety until he returned to the United States.

He was also wearing sunglasses, but with a full suit. With his lips pressed into a thin line, he coldly scanned every person who passed by.

Just looking at his getup made Chen Yu feel hot.

Dean looked like a cold, ruthless agent, but after getting to know him, Chen Yu discovered he was quite the wisecracker.

Sure enough, Chen Yu could almost feel him rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. "What do you think? I feel like my underwear is soaked, okay? But I can’t help it. I’m carrying, so I’ve got to keep it concealed."

Just as he said that, someone approached and was immediately stopped by Dean.

It was a young man with glasses. He gave Dean a surprised look before addressing Chen Yu. "Dr. Chen, Mr. Blatter would like to invite you to the VIP box upstairs. It should be much cooler there."

Chen Yu hadn’t expected Blatter to be here in person. He thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"No, thank you. It’s fine here. I prefer watching the game from the sidelines." Since Contiguglia often complained about Blatter, Chen Yu didn’t have a very favorable impression of the old man.

Most importantly, the IRS was now involved. According to Contiguglia, wherever the IRS went, they left scorched earth in their wake. FIFA was a complete mess of corruption. This time, even if Blatter didn’t go down completely, he would at least lose a layer of skin.

It was best to keep one’s distance from people like that.

Seeing Chen Yu’s refusal and Dean’s persistently hostile gaze, the young man hesitated for a moment before leaving with a polite smile.

But a short while later, Blatter himself, dressed in a white shirt, came down to the sidelines.

He wasn’t putting on airs, bringing only the young man from before. He greeted Chen Yu with a broad smile.

However, the people nearby had already recognized him and were getting excited.

"Dr. Chen, may I sit here?" Blatter asked, pointing to Dean’s seat.

Dean silently rolled his eyes and gave Chen Yu an annoyed look, as if to say, ’Are you going to turn him down or not?’

The man was already here. What could Chen Yu do? He could only smile and nod.

Frustrated, Dean got up and stood to the side.

Blatter sat down. At 66 years old, he was still spry. He glanced at the two teams entering the pitch and asked with a smile, "Dr. Chen, which team do you think will win?"

"Me?" Chen Yu thought for a moment. "Brazil, probably. After all, Pele predicted England would win."

Just yesterday, not content to stay quiet while hospitalized, Pele had once again made a proclamation for the Brazil Team’s sake, lavishing praise on the England team and claiming they would advance to the semifinals.

In this World Cup, Pele’s infamous curse seemed to have lost its touch. For example, during the group stage, he predicted that both France and Argentina would advance from their groups, and they actually did.

But he did get one prediction right—he said that in Group C, Brazil would advance alongside the China Team. And as for the China Team... well.

Yesterday, back at the hotel, while chatting with Eriksson and the others, Eriksson had even complained about it, saying that Pele should be resting quietly in the hospital instead of making wild predictions while he was sick.

Blatter was taken aback for a second, then burst out laughing, assuming Chen Yu was joking. "Actually, I’m also quite optimistic about the Brazil Team. After all, Ronnie is the best player on the planet, especially when he’s healthy."

Chen Yu nodded in agreement.

Across three group stage matches and the round of 16, Ronaldo had been in fiery form, scoring five goals to top the scorer’s chart.

Blatter continued, "That’s why I’ve always believed that player health is paramount. Only a healthy star can consistently provide the most exciting matches for the fans."

Chen Yu turned to look at Blatter. ’This old guy is trying to get at something,’ he thought.

Blatter chuckled. "Dr. Chen, the match on the 18th was an accident. Just as I told the media, it was a disgraceful match in the history of the World Cup. I never imagined Moreno would be that kind of person. The Referees Committee also didn’t do their job well enough."

"By the way, how is your injured player, Landon Donovan?"

Chen Yu studied Blatter with suspicion, sneering inwardly.

’This sounds like an apology, but isn’t he just trying to distance himself from the whole mess?’

Moreno and Zheng Mengjun had been arrested one after another, and Moreno was about to be extradited to the United States for trial. The old man was probably getting desperate.

’But he’s apologizing to the wrong person, isn’t he?’

"His injury is severe, but I can treat it." Donovan was already hospitalized, waiting for Chen Yu to return to the States to perform the surgery.

"That’s good to hear." Blatter continued, "Dr. Chen, your medical skills are truly remarkable. You’ve cured so many star players; it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’ve saved this World Cup."

Another round of flattery.

Chen Yu had heard this kind of talk countless times and was used to it. He watched Blatter, wondering what other compliments he was about to lay on thick.

Blatter was still all smiles. "I heard that you’re also an honorary consultant for the United States Anti-Doping Agency. So, I have a proposal. Would you consider joining FIFA? Our Medical Committee is in need of a top-tier doctor like you to guide its work."

FIFA has 15 standing committees, with the Medical Committee being one of the more important ones. When FIFA organizes a competition, the Medical Committee is required to assess and approve the medical standards and training environments of the host locations.

It is also responsible for player medical supervision and anti-doping efforts.

It held real power.

Chen Yu sized up Blatter again.

’Is this a bribe?’

’But what’s the point of bribing me? If you’re worried about being implicated by Zheng Mengjun, go talk to the FBI. Bribing me is useless.’

Blatter seemed very confident in his proposal, adding with a chuckle, "Dr. Chen, surely you wouldn’t refuse an old man like me, would you?"

Chen Yu chuckled inwardly. ’What’s with the high-and-mighty act? Has this guy never been turned down before?’

"I’m sorry." Chen Yu shook his head. "I have too many titles as it is, which means I have too much to do. My energy is limited, and I can’t handle so many responsibilities."

Blatter’s smile froze on his face. He quickly said, "Dr. Chen, you can give it some serious thought."

"There’s no need. Like I said, I have too many titles already. I don’t need another one." Chen Yu’s rejection was clean and decisive.

In Contiguglia’s words, FIFA was like the Everglades in Florida: it looked glamorous on the surface but was full of pitfalls. You never knew when you might step into one and be doomed beyond recovery.

Blatter probably thought that if he took over the Medical Committee, he would enjoy FIFA’s high benefits, wield the power of approval, and receive no shortage of "tributes" from host organizers. The perks were numerous.

But Chen Yu was genuinely afraid that if he earned that kind of money one day, he’d be sent to prison by the IRS the next.

He could earn clean money with his own skills, so why would he want to earn this kind of dirty money?

Blatter stared blankly at Chen Yu, completely taken aback that he would be rejected so bluntly.

He was even losing control of his expression.

Chen Yu ignored him and turned his head toward the pitch.

The players from both teams were on the field. The match was about to begin.

Not giving up, Blatter left a business card with his private number, telling Chen Yu to think it over again. Then, using the excuse that he had guests in his box, he got up and left.

Dean sat back down with a disgruntled look and muttered, "I think he’s scared."

Chen Yu turned to look at Dean.

Dean adjusted his trousers and said casually, "Don’t you watch the news? Yesterday, our dear president gave a public speech. He said the United States Team could have gone much further, maybe even won the World Cup, but was eliminated due to unsportsmanlike refereeing and malicious fouls. He also urged FIFA to give the United States an explanation."

"He really said that?" Chen Yu asked in return.

No wonder Blatter was in such a panic.

It was like getting pinged by the world’s biggest boss.

Still, where did the president get that baffling confidence? Claiming they could have won the World Cup... wasn’t he afraid of being ridiculed for saying something like that?

"Forget it. None of this has much to do with me anyway." Chen Yu waved his hand dismissively. He had done what he needed to do. The rest had nothing to do with him, and he didn’t want to get involved.

The atmosphere in the stands was electric. Thanks to Beckham, Japan had practically become England’s home turf.

A single glance revealed Japanese fans everywhere, dressed in the red jerseys from England’s 1966 World Cup victory. Every time Beckham touched the ball, cheers erupted from the female fans in the stands.

In contrast, the game on the pitch was rather dull.

England stuck to their usual 4-4-2 formation, while Scolari deployed a 3-5-2, reinforcing midfield control and interceptions.

From the start, both teams played cautiously, as if they were probing each other for weaknesses.

At first, Chen Yu wasn’t used to such tedious matches, but after watching more of them, he had come to understand.

This was a duel between masters: they wouldn’t strike unless they were sure it would be a killing blow.

Beside him, however, Dean was the first to start complaining. "Football and basketball are still more interesting. Hockey, too. Hey, Chen, did you know I played hockey as a kid? The only reason was so I could legally beat people up."

He shook his fists.

"By the way, is O’Neal really going to the Suns? The draft is just a few days away, right?" Dean asked.

Chen Yu paused for a moment. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

’That’s right. It’s the 21st here, which means it’s the 20th in the States. The draft is in six days.’

If they couldn’t finalize a deal with the Lakers before the draft, dragging it out any longer could get complicated.

Whether or not they could trade for O’Neal would directly impact the Suns’ strategy in the free-agent market.

"I don’t know either." Chen Yu shook his head. No news meant the talks were still ongoing.

Just as he spoke, the dull match was struck by a sudden bolt of lightning as a lethal opportunity appeared.

Gerrard, positioned as a defensive midfielder, made an interception deep in his own half and immediately launched a counterattack. On the right flank, Beckham exploited a gap left by the Brazil Team’s high press, sending the ball forward with his signature Beckham’s Arc.

There, Michael Owen was sprinting at full tilt, his white jersey fluttering in the wind as if he were chasing the breeze itself.

Chen Yu rose to his feet involuntarily, a media comment about Owen suddenly coming to mind.

What a "Wonder Boy"!