Chapter 24
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Who to Sign for the 99/00 Season?
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We'd prepared for player signings, but the transfer market was buzzing right back at us.
"Chris Sutton and Jason Wilcox have both submitted transfer requests."
"No way, weren't they performing well in the second half of the season?"
"That's just pro behavior. They played out the full season without slacking off and then made their requests official."
Kenny Dalglish shrugged.
He stayed laid-back no matter the situation, fully embodying the vibe of a lame-duck manager who was leaving in a year anyway.
"Can we just let both of them go?"
"They'd help if they stayed, but their departures wouldn't leave a huge gap. Not with where they are right now."
The stats backed that up.
Chris Sutton.
Just two seasons ago, he'd been the EPL's top scorer, but his slump was the biggest reason for Blackburn's downfall last season.
Eighteen league games, four goals—a steep drop. Even Marco van Basten had coldly assessed him: "His physical balance is completely shot."
"Mr. Lee said he'd bring in James Beattie, and if we sign one more alongside him, I think we can let Sutton go. Ian will cover the sub striker role anyway."
"What about Wilcox?"
"We need to develop Duff long-term, so shipping out Wilcox now makes sense. Truth is, he's been with the team a long time, but those injury aftereffects mean he can't play consistently anymore."
Dalglish wasn't just talking about this season—he'd been key to Blackburn's glorious 94-95 title win.
That's why he knew better than anyone the old guard Jack Walker had brought in for millions back in the day.
"If Wilcox transfers out, I'll register Ian's son Shaun in the first team and develop him properly as a winger. Left—Duff, right—SWP. Yoo Sung-chul will alternate between right back and right wing."
And if I signed Barry, he'd play left wing and left back early on, instead of central midfield.
Not a bad plan at all.
"Sounds good. Sell 'em if the fee's right."
"Combined, we'll get at least seven million pounds for the pair. Looking forward to it."
"Kenny, lunch meeting time—let's head out."
"Ah, right, meeting Peter."
I stepped out with Kenny.
We were meeting Peter Schmeichel's agent, who'd graciously offered to talk in person.
Mario Romano had invited us to his new Italian restaurant in Blackburn.
There were plenty of eateries, but good food set the right tone for talks—and we didn't want some mediocre British pub turning negotiations sour.
"This Italian stuff's pretty good, huh?"
Across the table, Peter Schmeichel was shoveling pasta onto his fork.
Nearing two meters tall, with reflexes and leap that remained elite even past thirty-five.
Last season alone, he'd been Manchester United's starting keeper in their Treble-winning squad—league, FA Cup, Champions League.
"Mr. Lee, my client has delegated all contract matters to me. We're just here to eat. Deal through me."
The player's right there, but no talking to him—negotiate with the agent.
Fair enough; that's standard. Schmeichel didn't even need to be here.
I'd just said I wanted to see the man in person, and since he was a free agent post-Man U with time on his hands, he'd shown up.
"First off, my client demands a substantial sum to join Blackburn."
"How much?"
"Starting at one point two million pounds per year."
I glanced at Schmeichel after hearing that.
"Is that really what he wants?"
"Mr. Lee, I said no talking to the client."
The sharp-featured Danish agent, Hans, adjusted his glasses and laid out his pitch.
"Of course, he also requests guarantees of twenty-plus starts, housing for his family in Blackburn, and a specialist tax advisor hired under the club's name to handle UK tax issues."
"One point two million salary? I was thinking more like nine hundred thousand to start."
"!?"
Why nine hundred?
Being tight with the UK press helped.
Our Blackburn office staff had checked, and some reporters confirmed Schmeichel had extended for nine hundred to nine hundred fifty thousand two years back—complete with the old articles handed to Section Chief Park.
So that's where I pegged it.
A thirty-five-year-old leaving Man U for a new team? Matching his United wages seemed fair.
"We can handle the rest. Plus one more: if Peter's family comes, we'll sign his son to the Blackburn Rovers youth academy."
"My client's son?"
"We already brought in Ian Wright and got his two boys in too—so father and sons can all play for Blackburn."
And we'd keep doing it. Signing vets copies over prospects.
"My Blackburn philosophy is the 'mentor-mentee' system. Bring in classy veterans to guide and inspire the youngsters, building the team as they grow."
That was when it happened.
"Min søn er kun 14år gammel nu."
"Danish?"
"My client says his son is only fourteen."
"Perfect timing, then. Early start's ideal for learning. And living in England? English lessons on lock. For his future."
Schmeichel shot me a quick look and smirked.
Then he spoke to his agent in Danish and stood up.
"Thanks for the meal."
"Calling it here?"
Speaks great English, but sticks to Danish with the agent.
"Everything else checks out. We can work out the salary step by step."
Peter wiped his mouth with a napkin and extended his hand to me.
"See you next week. With a proper figure guaranteed."
"Of course. Our starting keeper this season."
"Hahaha."
Peter shook hands with a satisfied grin and left.
I took a waitress-provided ashtray from the restaurant and lit a cigarette.
"Kenny, he's coming."
"Matching what Man U paid? That sealed it. No other club would match that."
"We'll settle at nine hundred fifty thousand, with clean sheet bonuses and such."
"No more keeper worries."
Then Chief Scout Hobson's call came in.
[Mr. Lee, Doug Ellis wants to talk in Birmingham about the Gareth Barry proposal.]
"Meeting's on. Great, I'll go."
Doug Ellis was the type to sell anyone for the right price.
I got ready and prepped for Birmingham.
Arriving at Aston Villa's offices in Birmingham, a few things stood out.
More photos of Ellis's business ventures than team trophies.
And on the way over, Aston Villa fans had banners everywhere demanding Doug Ellis step down.
"You've come all the way from Blackburn. Can't leave empty-handed, eh?"
"Of course not."
"You want Barry? Five million pounds—that's his set price."
"!"
"That lad's England international material. Plus, we owe Brighton two million. Sell-on clause for England caps."
"So you're asking seven hundred thousand including that Brighton clause?"
What a tangled transfer this was.
"Sign for seven million, take him right then. Morning departure, evening unveiling."
Pricey.
"Three lions on his chest? Value hits ten million easy. Buy now or never."
No haggling.
Owner sees every player as cash, the club as his personal farm—explains the attitude.
"So, what's it gonna be?"
"Five million's steep. I'd like to negotiate options, assuming the Brighton clause transfer."
"No chance. Plenty want Barry besides you. Two or three teams already sniffing."
"Any chance I can know which?"
"Why would I tell you?"
Bluff, obviously.
Who else saw Gareth Barry's true worth besides my Blackburn?
Left-footed midfielders were rare, but no one was paying seven million plus right now.
"Hmm, we're comparing Barry to other midfield targets. Guess we'll shop around."
"What?"
"Planning a few days here. Got Leeds business too."
"Selling to Leeds? Buying?"
"No obligation to answer."
I stood up, ending the first meeting.
"Buyer's not supposed to play coy like that."
"Transfer windows need time."
Bet on it.
No call from me? Two days tops, and Doug Ellis would reach out first.
I checked into my booked Birmingham hotel and called Dalglish.
"They're asking seven million for Gareth Barry."
[He's a helpful addition for sure, but seven million... steep for a nineteen-year-old.]
Nineteen years old, but last season he'd filled in everywhere for Aston Villa—left back, left mid, defensive mid—thirty-two games, two goals.
At this pace, Euro 2000 squad material easy.
Meaning seven million was actually the bargain basement now.
[Barry aside, got a partner lined up for Henchoz at center back?]
Dalglish bringing up defenders.
With 2000 looming, EPL clubs were about to go wild with cash, inflating fees sky-high.
[Leeds is signing Rio Ferdinand for twenty-five million. If it goes through, record defender fee.]
"Forget Barry for a sec—I want a defender from Aston Villa too."
[Haha, anyone specific? Defender besides Gareth Barry... Gareth Sout...]
"Exactly."
[?!]
Gareth Southgate.
Current England starter and Aston Villa captain.
"Big Gareth and Little Gareth—both. Southgate and Barry."
[Possible? If both come, that's a clear upgrade over last season.]
Wilcox had Leeds interest, Sutton from Chelsea.
Leeds paying top dollar, Chelsea betting on a revival from the Golden Boot king, not the four-goal dud from last year.
Sell those two, free-agent Schmeichel plus Gareth Barry and Gareth Southgate inside ten million total.
"Transfer window's young. Plenty of time to negotiate."
[Haha, now we're talking. I trust you, Mr. Lee.]
After missing S-tier Lampard and Henry, I'd keep moving for one S and two A's.