Chapter 83: Leading the Premier League! A Gift Straight from the Sky!
The Danish national team manager, Morten Olsen, sent a fax calling up Leon Andreasen for international duty.
The French national team coach, Raymond Domenech, sent his own—calling up both Franck Ribéry and Pascal Chimbonda.
Croatia's national team manager, Zlatko Kranjčar, summoned Luka Modrić.
And England boss Sven-Göran Eriksson called up Aaron Lennon.
…
When all five faxes were laid out in front of Yang Cheng, his feelings were... complicated.
Happy? Of course he was.
His players were getting national team call-ups—more and more of them. That could only be a good sign.
Bayswater Chinese FC had produced internationals before—like Martin Rowlands and Škrtel.
But those were from smaller nations.
And U21 or U19 call-ups? Even more common.
This, though, was different.
Croatia and Denmark were strong teams—and France just called up two players in one go.
And then there was Aaron Lennon: a call-up to England's senior team. That was serious. A homegrown England international—major prestige.
Yet amid all that joy, Yang Cheng couldn't help feeling uneasy.
In his previous life, he'd been burned more than once by international breaks.
"Right now, national teams are basically just freeloading playboys," he complained aloud.
"They don't pay a dime, use our guys however they want, and if they break something? Not their problem!"
He was genuinely angry.
Brian Kidd had never seen Yang Cheng curse like this before—and burst into laughter.
To be fair, it was a pretty accurate metaphor.
"Best keep those kinds of comments behind closed doors," Kidd advised with a grin.
Yang Cheng knew that, of course.
Representing your country was an honor for any player.
Especially young ones.
He remembered how, in 2008, Hamburg refused to let Kompany join Belgium's Olympic team—and the defender got so mad he forced a move to Manchester City.
Worse yet, bad press from those spats didn't help anyone.
"I need to make some calls," Yang Cheng said, already dialing. "Just want to make sure they don't overuse my players."
National team games, club rehab—how many times had that played out?
"Also, let Mike Rigg and Gary Worthington know: our scouts need to follow these matches closely. I want real-time reports," Yang Cheng added seriously.
He wasn't exaggerating—this was serious business.
Especially for a club like Bayswater, whose squad depth was still fragile.
…
While Yang Cheng was fretting and planning like a general going into battle...
His players were on cloud nine.
After returning to London from Manchester, Bayswater Chinese FC faced Sunderland at home in Matchday 4.
Familiar foes—no need for pleasantries.
From the opening whistle, Bayswater took complete control.
A clear sign of the team's progress.
And those newly minted internationals?
Every one of them was buzzing.
In the first five minutes alone, they were caught offside three times by Sunderland's trap.
In the 7th minute, Ribéry stole the ball up top, dribbled alone, and charged into Sunderland's box on the left.
Even though Lambert in the middle and Lennon on the right were in better positions, he chose to shoot himself.
The ball hit the side netting.
Yang Cheng exploded on the touchline, screaming at Ribéry and jabbing a finger at him.
But in the 12th minute, Modrić floated a gorgeous ball over the top.
Ribéry ran into the left side of the box, brought it down with his chest, and smashed it into the net.
1–0, Bayswater!
After that, Sunderland were under siege.
Modrić unleashed a long shot.
Diarra followed with one of his own.
The Frenchman was clearly fired up—if Ribéry and Chimbonda could make the national team, why not him?
Sunderland were in for a miserable afternoon.
Same league, same newly promoted status—so why were they getting bullied like this?
They wanted to be the protagonists too!
Starting around the 20th minute, Sunderland finally woke up and launched a few counters.
Their first shot came shortly after.
But in the 36th minute, Lennon, drifting inside from the right, drew defenders before threading a pass to Chimbonda, who had overlapped on the wing.
The French full-back hit a low cross into the box.
Lambert met it and swept it into the net.
2–0.
At halftime, Yang Cheng gave the team a harsh talking-to.
"If we played with any teamwork at all, this game would've been over by now!"
"Sunderland? Who the hell are they?"
"How many chances did you let them create in the first half?!"
Not a single player dared respond.
After the restart, Sunderland made a sub.
Former Bayswater striker Jonathan Stead came on.
But the momentum had already swung too far.
Once Bayswater's top scorer, Stead could never have imagined that in just two years, his old club would rise to the Premier League—and outperform even his best days.
And Lambert? Once Stead's backup—now the starter. And outshining him.
In the 68th minute, Ribéry beat his man down the left and fed Lambert a sitter.
The English striker slid in and tapped it home.
3–0.
Lambert had a brace.
Sunderland were done.
In the 78th minute, they managed to pull one back via a corner, with center-back Stubbs heading it in.
But just four minutes later, Modrić played a perfect through ball to Lennon on the right side of the box.
Lennon stopped it, juked the defender, and smashed a low shot into the net.
4–1!
Loftus Road exploded.
Everyone could see it—the improvement, the maturity, the momentum of Bayswater Chinese FC.
At the very least, this wasn't the same team that had struggled against Sunderland last season.
Yang Cheng, though, knew exactly what had changed.
These guys had been triggered by the national team call-ups.
Everyone was playing out of their minds.
Of all of them, Modrić's growth made Yang Cheng the happiest.
"After two seasons of grinding, his physical strength has come a long way. He's no longer afraid of contact or pressing," Brian Kidd said, impressed.
Modrić wasn't tall. Looked skinny, even.
But that was an illusion.
Anyone who knew him could tell from his powerful thighs—that kid was built solid.
Low center of gravity. Strong core.
Best of all, gaining that strength hadn't dulled his touch or agility.
"He's still got a long way to go. So much potential left untapped," Yang Cheng said.
He knew Modrić's ceiling better than anyone.
A future Ballon d'Or winner. One of the best midfielders of his generation.
His passing, control, orchestration—he still had a lot of growing to do.
But through real match experience, that would come.
And based on this season so far, Yang Cheng was confident:
Modrić was becoming a finished product under his guidance.
As long as nothing went wrong—no injuries, no distractions—he could surpass even the Modrić from Yang Cheng's past life.
After all, this time, Yang Cheng had taken all the right steps.
…
With four Premier League matches played, the league paused for two weeks for the international break.
After a brutal August schedule, one thing was clear:
No team had managed to win all four matches.
After the first four rounds of the Premier League, the best record stood at 3 wins and 1 draw—10 points.
There were three teams with that record: Bayswater Chinese FC, Manchester United, and Manchester City.
Among them, Bayswater Chinese FC claimed top spot by virtue of their 4–1 home win over Sunderland in the latest round, bringing their tally to 8 goals scored and only 2 conceded, with a +6 goal difference.
That edged them past United (+5) and City (+3), placing the West London upstarts at the top of the table.
The news set off a storm—not only in the UK but around the world.
Sure, it had only been four matches, but a newly promoted team leading the Premier League? Unbelievable.
And it wasn't just anyone they'd overtaken—it was Manchester United and Chelsea, two of the league's biggest giants.
Chelsea had 3 wins and 1 loss, the lone defeat being to Bayswater. They were now in 4th.
Charlton also had 3 wins and 1 loss—their only loss also came against Bayswater—placing them 5th.
It was enough to leave many journalists and pundits stunned.
Yes, it was only four games. Yes, the season was young.
But holding a draw away at United, beating Chelsea at home, and defeating Charlton away—those were real, solid results.
And they were all against teams currently in the top five of the table.
After Matchday 4, The Sun was the first to declare Bayswater Chinese FC as the Premier League's biggest surprise package.
"This West London team is shaping up to be this season's most dangerous dark horse!"
"Yang Cheng and his young guns are on track to completely shake up the Premier League power structure!"
The Times offered similarly high praise.
A squad with an average age under 21, zero Premier League experience, and a manager who didn't even hold a coaching license...
And yet, they were top of the league.
Fans couldn't stop talking about it.
"What's even more impressive is how Yang Cheng used multiple different midfield setups in just four matches."
"We're seeing a level of ruthlessness and maturity that seems entirely at odds with his age."
Top of the table?
Yang Cheng hadn't even thought about it.
He was just taking things match by match.
Being at the top was great—but he didn't dwell on it.
Only four games in. Everything was still just getting started.
So the day after the Sunderland win, before the players departed for international duty, Yang Cheng gave one last speech.
He reminded them to take care of themselves, avoid injuries, and reach out to the club if anything happened.
"We've had an excellent start."
"But the road ahead is long—we've got plenty of tough battles coming."
"I hope every one of you has a fantastic experience with your national teams."
He may have been fuming inside, but he still offered his best wishes aloud.
…
While the Premier League paused, far away in Nyon, Switzerland, UEFA was drawing lots for the third qualifying round of the UEFA Cup.
The difference between the Champions League and the UEFA Cup could be seen clearly in the draw ceremonies.
The Champions League draw was held at the Grimaldi Forum in Monaco—a massive event, practically an annual gala.
The UEFA Cup?
A quiet gathering at UEFA HQ in Nyon.
Most clubs didn't even bother sending reps.
Why?
Because the UEFA Cup didn't pay.
As the Champions League kept expanding, the UEFA Cup's value plummeted—both in prestige and revenue.
In elite professional sports, the top dogs always take the biggest share.
Even winning the UEFA Cup might net you only three to five million euros—not remotely on the level of the Champions League.
Still, Bayswater Chinese FC took it very seriously.
Home games still meant valuable matchday revenue.
And luck was on their side—they drew Mainz, a mid-table Bundesliga side who had finished 11th the previous season.
On paper, Mainz shouldn't have even qualified.
But UEFA had a "Fair Play ranking" system, awarding bonus UEFA Cup slots to the top-performing federations.
The top three federations in the 2005/06 Fair Play ranking were awarded one additional place each.
Norway topped the table, giving Viking direct qualification.
Six countries had scores above 8.0: Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Estonia, England, and Switzerland.
With only two spots left, UEFA held a draw among those six.
Germany and Denmark won, and they nominated Mainz and Midtjylland, respectively.
England had nominated Tottenham Hotspur—but they missed out.
From a competitive standpoint, Mainz weren't necessarily better than top teams from other leagues.
But geographically, they were close—travel between the UK and Germany was convenient.
More importantly, Mainz's coach was someone Yang Cheng had long admired.
A man who treated football like boxing.
…
With the league on hold, Yang Cheng gave his players two days off.
But he himself couldn't rest.
Phase I of the Brent training complex had just been completed—inspected and officially in use.
Busy with league matches, Yang Cheng had delegated the entire process to Xia Qing and Adam Crozier.
Now that there was a break, he made sure to check it out in person.
Even more importantly, he needed to review and approve plans for Phase II.
Not because he was a control freak.
But before Phase I even began, Yang Cheng had contributed a wealth of forward-thinking ideas, drawn from his personal experiences in 2024 and visits to top youth and training academies.
At the time, some thought he was just being a demanding boss.
But once the facility opened, it quickly became clear: everything just worked—from layout to functionality, down to the smallest details.
Yang Cheng wasn't surprised.
He was confident that as time passed, as the training level increased, people would only become more impressed with the base's futuristic design.
And Phase II? He had ideas for that too.
The biggest concern from outsiders had always been funding.
But Xia Qing, as always, was sharp and confident.
"Just go ahead and build. As long as you keep the budget under £10 million, leave the rest to me."
With her assurance, the whole team was buzzing with motivation.
…
"Are you really sure about this, Qing-jie?"
After the main meeting, Yang Cheng, Xia Qing, and Crozier huddled in a smaller, private one.
"What's the problem?" Xia Qing smiled confidently.
"We sold Joe Hart for £6 million, Dave Kitson for £8 million, Tom Huddlestone for £10 million—this year alone."
"And we can't squeeze out £10 million from that?"
Adam Crozier nodded, eyes flashing with admiration.
Yang Cheng said no more.
He had complete faith in her.
That, right there, was the key difference between Xia Qing and Lin Zhongqiu.
Lin had been too cautious—painstakingly calculating every risk.
That kind of mindset was fine for preserving an empire, but too conservative for building one.
And Yang Cheng's club was in an explosive growth phase.
Being overly cautious now would be tying their own hands.
Challenges? Of course. And big ones.
Sure, they'd made around £24 million from sales.
But just the summer signings had already cost them £7.55 million—that wasn't pocket change.
And more importantly, transfers—buying or selling—were all paid in installments.
This brought up some very complicated financial calculations, full of twists and turns—even Yang Cheng couldn't make sense of it all.
And then there was the expansion of the satellite training centers, which was another massive investment.
But Xia Qing brushed it all off with one simple sentence: "Leave it to me."
"We're in a great position right now. This season, we're going to push forward with everything we've got. And don't forget the UEFA Cup."
That was one competition Yang Cheng had no intention of giving up on.
"Exactly. For a club like ours, with shallow roots, we need honors—real, weighty achievements. They build credibility and attract commercial partners and sponsors," Adam Crozier added.
After his trip to China earlier that summer, Crozier had made excellent progress.
As Bayswater Chinese FC's CEO, he'd gained attention from major media outlets and formed initial connections with a number of commercial partners.
He'd even appeared on national broadcasts on China Central Television.
Adam Crozier had always assumed this was due to Yang Cheng and his powerful family's influence behind the scenes.
But oddly enough, Yang Cheng himself found it puzzling.
He'd asked his "cheap old man," but the guy had no idea either.
Still, business was booming for his father. Whether it was the two sports brands or real estate, everything was taking off.
Before the season started, Yang Cheng had formally separated the two.
The front-of-shirt sponsor was still the Yang Group's real estate company—but they didn't pay a dime.
Call it debt repayment.
After that, debts were cleared, and ownership of the club officially belonged to Yang Cheng.
From now on, every aspect of the club—big or small—was under his control.
"Right, didn't you say before you wanted someone to write a club anthem and shoot a football culture promo?" Crozier asked, shifting the topic to another cost-heavy initiative.
"Yeah, everything lined up?"
"We've got one of the top bands in the UK lined up for the music, and we've contacted one of the best advertising film crews for the promo."
"Alright. Set up a meeting. I want to talk to the director about the script."
Yang Cheng paused, then added:
"As for the song, I'll record a demo and you can pass it along to them."
He couldn't compose or arrange, of course.
But he could sing.
"Wait a second," Crozier blinked, stunned. "You're writing the club anthem yourself?"
"What else? We're broke—gotta save every penny we can," Yang Cheng said, completely straight-faced.
"And the script? You're writing that too?"
Yang Cheng smiled smugly and nodded.
Crozier turned to Xia Qing in disbelief.
"You're letting him do this?"
In his mind, it was already insane that Yang Cheng could manage a Premier League club at age 25.
Taking them from the brink of bankruptcy to the Premier League? That was near-miraculous.
But now he wanted to write music and scripts too?
"He already talked me through the script. He even hummed the anthem for me. I think... it's actually really good," Xia Qing admitted.
She remembered her own shock when she first heard it.
But after listening to the lyrics and concept, she had to admit—it worked.
The only downside? Yang Cheng had said the song needed to be sung by a woman. He couldn't hit the notes.
Seeing Crozier's mix of shock, concern, and skepticism, Yang Cheng was secretly pleased—eager to show off in front of Britain's highest-paid public servant.
So, he sang his carefully prepared demo of "Dream It Possible."
It was one of his favorite songs from his previous life—a global brand anthem for a Fortune 500 company. Both the melody and lyrics matched the spirit of Bayswater Chinese FC perfectly.
Yang Cheng had made a few tweaks to the lyrics to fit the club.
The promo video? It would mirror the song's original music video—except football would replace the piano.
Yang's creative concept was to tell three very different football stories within a 4-minute video:
—A boy who herded sheep, freshly scarred from war.
—An overweight British teen, constantly rejected because of his body.
—A French kid with facial scars from a car crash, mocked and discriminated against everywhere he went.
One washed dishes in a restaurant.
One hauled bricks on a construction site.
One was rejected time and again—by clubs, by coaches, by society…
Until one day, they arrived at Bayswater Chinese FC.
"The final scene has to be real footage. I want a packed stadium, the roar of the crowd—tens of thousands of fans in the stands."
"They're on the pitch now, confident, flying, showing their skill. The crowd's cheering for them."
Yang Cheng had thought this through countless times.
With the right execution and this song, the result would be explosive.
Adam Crozier immediately understood who those characters were.
And he grasped the message behind it all—what Yang Cheng wanted this club to represent.
As long as you persevere, no matter the setbacks, dreams really are possible.
Crozier was sold.
Just like Xia Qing had been.
"Also, we're not hiring any famous singers to perform this song."
Another surprise from Yang Cheng.
"Why not?"
"Because if they're already famous, it loses impact."
Okay, that reasoning was a bit shaky.
Xia Qing glanced at her increasingly unpredictable junior and guessed:
He just doesn't want to pay for a real singer, does he?
After all, top singers don't come cheap.
"I know a school in South London—Croydon. The BRIT School."
Crozier frowned—he hadn't heard of it.
Xia Qing looked equally puzzled.
"It's a secondary performing arts school jointly run by the Department for Education and Employment and the British Record Industry Trust. It's been backed by major labels for years."
"That school is full of talented girls chasing their musical dreams."
Crozier instantly got it.
Now that made sense.
"Alright. Have them finish the arrangement, then we'll take it to the school, hold auditions, and pick the best-fitting girl to sing our anthem."
Yang Cheng had, once again, talked his way into a full plan.
Crozier had to admit—it was a brilliant idea.
It fit the message perfectly.
Xia Qing still suspected the real motive was to save money.
Only Yang Cheng knew the full truth.
In his previous life, the original version of Dream It Possible was sung by an American girl named Delacey.
They called her "Little Adele."
So then why not go straight to the real thing?
Adele.
Yang Cheng had been a massive fan in his past life, and he knew her story inside out.
At this moment in time, Adele was still a student at that very school—set to graduate in 2006.
It was only after uploading a few recordings online that she was discovered by the labels.
Yang Cheng wasn't worried about altering her destiny.
With a voice like hers, Adele was destined to go global sooner or later.
And when that happened?
Bayswater Chinese FC would be the one that gave her the stage.
That would give the club anthem even more meaning.
As for auditioning girls at the school—come on.
Who made the final call?
Yang Cheng, of course.
After all, when you're the client—you're the king.
These plans involved highly complex financial calculations, with plenty of twists and turns—even Yang Cheng couldn't fully make sense of them.
And then there was the expansion of the satellite training centers, which was another massive investment.
But Xia Qing had waved it all off lightly with one sentence: "Leave it to me."
"We're in a good place right now, and this season we're going all out—not just in the league, but in the UEFA Cup as well."
That was one competition Yang Cheng had no intention of giving up on.
"Exactly. A club like ours, still lacking deep foundations, needs prestigious honors and strong performances to build credibility—and to win over sponsors and commercial partners," Adam Crozier added, fully supportive.
After his summer trip to China, Crozier had made a real breakthrough.
As Bayswater Chinese FC's CEO, he had been well received by several respected media outlets and had established early relationships with potential business partners.
He had even appeared in interviews and features on China's most authoritative national television network.
All of this, Crozier assumed, was due to Yang Cheng—and the powerful family backing him.
Yang Cheng, meanwhile, found the whole thing a bit strange.
He had even asked his "cheap old man," but the man had no idea either.
Still, business was booming. Whether it was the sportswear brands or real estate, everything was thriving.
Before the start of the season, Yang Cheng had officially severed ties.
This season's shirt sponsor still featured his father's real estate company, but no money changed hands.
It was written off as debt repayment.
With that debt repaid, the club's ownership was now entirely Yang Cheng's.
From now on, every decision—big or small—was his.
"By the way, didn't you mention wanting a club anthem and a football culture promo video?" Crozier brought up another budget-heavy initiative.
"Yeah, are we set on that?"
"I've contacted one of the UK's top bands for the music, and the promo will be handled by one of the best ad film crews."
"Alright. Find a time for me to meet the director—I want to go over the promo script."
Yang Cheng paused, then added:
"As for the anthem, I'll record a demo version later and you can let them hear it."
Of course, Yang Cheng couldn't compose or arrange music.
But he could sing.
"Wait… you're planning to write the club anthem yourself?" Crozier asked, stunned.
"What else? We're broke. Saving money where we can," Yang Cheng replied matter-of-factly.
"Are you writing the script too?"
Yang Cheng gave a proud nod.
Crozier turned to Xia Qing, baffled.
"And you're okay with this?"
From his perspective, it was already wild enough that Yang Cheng was managing a Premier League club at age 25.
Getting them promoted and into the top flight was proof of his coaching talent.
But now he wanted to write music and scripts?
"He walked me through the script. Even hummed the anthem. Honestly? I think it's really good."
Xia Qing remembered her own shock when she first heard it.
But after listening to Yang Cheng sing it, and hearing the story behind the script, she had to admit—it was genuinely impressive.
The only issue?
Yang Cheng admitted it was written for a female voice. He couldn't sing it properly himself.
Seeing the mix of shock, worry, and disbelief on Crozier's face, Yang Cheng felt a surge of pride—eager to show off in front of Britain's highest-paid public official.
So, he sang the song he'd prepared all along: "Dream It Possible."
It was one of his favorites from his previous life—the brand anthem of a Fortune 500 company. Both the music and lyrics were a perfect fit for Bayswater Chinese FC.
He'd made some minor lyric adjustments.
As for the promo, it was inspired by the music video for the song—except instead of a piano, it would feature football.
Yang Cheng's concept: in just four minutes, tell the story of three players, each with a different life path:
—A shepherd boy who had survived war.
—A British teen constantly rejected for being overweight.
—A French boy with facial scars from a car accident, bullied and discriminated against.
One washed dishes and served drinks.
Another worked construction, dripping with sweat.
All were repeatedly rejected and abandoned…
Until one day, they arrived at Bayswater Chinese FC.
"At the end of the MV, it has to be real match footage—with real crowd noise. Tens of thousands of fans in the stands."
"They're finally on the pitch—playing with confidence, showcasing their skill, cheered on by the world."
Yang Cheng had imagined this concept dozens of times.
And if executed right, paired with the song, it would be electrifying.
Just listening, Crozier instantly realized who those characters were.
And he understood exactly what Yang Cheng wanted the club's brand to convey.
As long as you persevere—no matter the setbacks—dreams can come true.
Crozier was sold.
Just like Xia Qing had been.
"Also, let's not get a famous singer for this anthem."
Another twist from Yang Cheng.
"Why not?"
"Because if they're already famous, it loses credibility."
Okay, that was a bit of a stretch.
Xia Qing glanced at her increasingly unpredictable protégé, suspecting the real reason was simple—cost.
Famous singers were expensive.
"I know a school in South London—Croydon. It's called the BRIT School."
Crozier frowned. He hadn't heard of it.
Xia Qing was even more confused.
"It's a performing arts secondary school co-funded by the Department for Education and the British Record Industry Trust. They've been supported by top record labels for years."
"The school is full of talented girls—each chasing their dream of becoming a singer."
Crozier immediately understood Yang Cheng's plan.
It made sense—and fit the club's narrative perfectly.
"Alright. Let them finish the arrangement first. Then we'll go to the school and audition some of the girls. We'll pick the one who fits the anthem best."
Yang Cheng's roundabout plan had once again come full circle.
And Crozier had to admit—it was a great idea.
The key was that it aligned with the club's message.
Xia Qing still thought the real goal was saving money.
Only Yang Cheng knew the truth.
In his past life, "Dream It Possible" was performed by Delacey, a young American singer often called "Little Adele."
So why not just go with the real Adele?
She'd be even better.
Yang Cheng had been a huge Adele fan in his previous life—deeply familiar with her music and her story.
At this point in time, Adele was still studying at the BRIT School. She wouldn't graduate until 2006, after which she would upload a few demos online and finally catch the attention of the record labels.
Yang Cheng wasn't worried about changing her fate.
With that voice, Adele was always going to be global.
And when that happened?
Bayswater Chinese FC would be the ones who discovered her—who helped launch her career.
Wouldn't that give their anthem even more meaning?
And as for the audition? Come on.
Who they chose or didn't choose—that decision belonged to Yang Cheng.
He was the client.
And in this world, the client is always king.
Didn't Yang Cheng have the list of all bankrupt clubs in Greater London memorized?
He told Chris Hunter that youth development would become increasingly valuable in the future, and that Greater London was destined to be a battleground.
Bayswater Chinese FC had to plant their flag in key areas ahead of everyone else.
Based on memories from his previous life, Yang Cheng pointed out several districts in and around London that would see large population influxes in the coming years. He told Hunter to keep a close eye on these areas.
Only after listening to Yang Cheng's explanation did Chris Hunter fully understand why this "infrastructure department" needed to exist.
Building, operating, and maintaining ten satellite training centers was already an enormous undertaking.
Add in the Brent training base—and later on, an even bigger, more ambitious stadium project…
Just thinking about it lit a fire inside Chris Hunter.
He even felt that if he hesitated for even one second, he'd be betraying his own talent.
Hunter told Yang Cheng on the spot that he would immediately submit his resignation upon returning to the office.
"Over the next few weeks, I'll be gathering all relevant information from the City and Greater London. I'll compile a detailed report, and once I'm officially on board, I'll begin project assessments right away."
That "take-action-now" mindset was exactly what Yang Cheng appreciated.
Adam Crozier was excellent at day-to-day operations, but for this particular task, Chris Hunter was the expert.
So Yang Cheng personally took Hunter over to the admin offices to introduce him to Xia Qing and Adam Crozier, and they held a brief internal meeting.
…
After having lunch together and taking a short break, the club welcomed another piece of good news in the afternoon.
Back in December of last year, Bayswater Chinese FC had placed an order with German luxury coach manufacturer MAN for two Lion's Coach Generation 2 buses, at a total cost of £700,000.
Now, over six months later, MAN officially delivered the two coaches to the club.
Along with the buses came drivers, onboard staff, and all relevant support systems, already fully arranged.
That afternoon, a simple handover ceremony was held at Bayswater Stadium in front of the first-team squad.
To Yang Cheng's surprise, the young players seemed even more excited than he was.
They rushed onto the buses, touching everything, inspecting every corner—
It was like watching a bunch of kids on a school field trip.
A few members of the media were also present, organized by Adam Crozier.
According to the CEO, this was currently the most luxurious, high-end team bus in English football, and the club should absolutely promote it—let the world know how well Bayswater treated its players.
And he wasn't wrong.
The reporters in attendance were visibly impressed.
At least in the UK, no other club had spent this much on a team bus.
£700,000—you could buy a decent player for that.
More than that, Yang Cheng explained the full functionality of the bus, and the journalists began to realize that—while not glamorous—it was actually really important for players.
…
"What kind of BS is 'sense of belonging'?!"
The next morning, when the news of Bayswater's luxury buses hit the papers, Roman Abramovich—reading from his Knightsbridge mansion—was thoroughly irritated.
He couldn't stand seeing anything about Bayswater Chinese FC.
His mood soured immediately, and his temper followed.
"They just got lucky. They're temporarily on top. Just watch—soon we'll kick them right back down."
He still hadn't gotten over losing the land at North Hyde Park.
"It's just two bloody buses."
He turned to Marina Granovskaia.
"Didn't you say the club was due to order new buses?"
She nodded.
Chelsea's old buses were outdated and overdue for replacement.
"Then get these exact ones. Same model, same specs—must have that cooking station, the kitchenette, all of it. Order five."
"No—make it ten!"
Marina was surprised.
"Boss, the first team won't need that many."
"Then use the extras for the youth teams once Cobham is finished. Let them all ride in style."
This made headlines?
A bunch of frogs in a well.
…
Two days later, at Bayswater Stadium.
Adam Crozier walked into Yang Cheng's office.
"Yang, I just got off the phone with MAN in Germany."
"Something wrong?" Yang Cheng asked, startled.
Did the buses have a defect?
Crozier laughed.
"No, they called to say thank you. After the news coverage of our buses, the very next day they received an order from Chelsea—for ten buses."
"Ten?!" Yang Cheng was surprised.
That was… aggressive.
"Yep. Same specs as ours. But MAN's charging them £500,000 per unit."
"Wait—they raised the price?"
"They said a lot of our customization was a first for them. They had no experience with it, and realized after the fact that their original quote—£350,000—was too low. So they bumped it to £500k for Chelsea."
"No big deal. Let the rich boys pay for it."
For someone like Abramovich, £5 million was pocket change.
"Anyway, MAN was very happy with how this all turned out. They're hoping to continue working with us."
"You mean...?"
"I'll fly to Germany and see if we can secure a sponsorship deal. Even if we can't get a direct payout, maybe they'll cover the cost of some buses. Our youth teams are still renting vans for away matches."
Even Crozier laughed at that point.
Who would've thought?
Sometimes the sky really does drop a meat pie in your lap.
"Go for it. However you want to handle it, I trust you."
Crozier left, satisfied.
Yang Cheng thought to himself: Maybe I should send Abramovich a thank-you letter?
…
For Yang Cheng, the MAN buses were just a fun little detour.
He had already shifted his focus to the return of international players from their call-ups.
He had prepared thoroughly in advance, but this was the club's first time handling such matters.
Both staff and players lacked experience.
Mistakes were inevitable.
Yang Cheng had originally been most concerned about Yaya Touré going back to Africa, but the Ivorian returned without a hitch.
The real issue was Luka Modrić, who had flown with Croatia to Malta. His return flight got delayed.
Leon Andreasen, traveling with Denmark to Georgia, also returned a day later than planned.
And just like that, Yang Cheng's carefully laid plans were thrown into chaos.
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