Chapter 46
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: The Century's Transfer Begins.
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[Luis~ Real Madrid~ Victorious Barcelona!]
Barcelona's championship parade.
Luis Figo raised the trophy high, basking in the cheers.
After delivering peak performances throughout the 99-00 season, Luis Figo was taking a well-deserved break to prepare for the next campaign.
Then, during the off-season, a phone call came in to Figo's home.
"Do you really think that's a serious offer?"
[Come on, if it goes through, you'll pocket 6 million euros yourself.]
Figo's agent, José Veiga, could only let out a hollow laugh at the absurd proposal.
It was insane—Real Madrid stepping up to sign Barcelona's very heart, Luis Figo?
"If you're going to joke, at least make it believable. I'm hanging up now, Paulo."
[Wait, hold on! Don't hang up, just give me one minute.]
The line grew chaotic on the other end, and then the voice changed.
It was a gravelly tone, belonging to someone Figo had seen plenty of times on TV.
[Hola, this is Florentino Pérez of ASC.]
"Why is Real Madrid's chairman candidate calling Barcelona?"
Veiga's patience was wearing thin when Pérez finally got to the point.
[Tell Luis this: I'm running for Real Madrid chairman. If I win, Luis Figo joins Real Madrid.]
"Listen, Mr. Pérez."
[I'll write you a check for a million dollars in my name right now.]
"!"
[If I don't become chairman, you keep the million. But if I do, I'll officially pursue signing Luis Figo.]
Pérez was straight-up offering a million dollars on the spot.
Veiga pondered for a moment before responding.
"I'll talk it over with Luis. But transferring from Barcelona to Real? That's a deal that'd curse anyone involved."
[Good, good. Tell Luis good luck with Euro 2000.]
After hanging up with Pérez, Veiga approached Luis Figo, who was leisurely grilling barbecue with his wife and daughter at home.
"Hey, Veiga. The meat's coming along perfectly."
"Luis, do you know who just called me?"
"?"
Veiga sat down and explained everything that had happened.
Figo first stared in disbelief at the ridiculous story, but his eyes narrowed at the mention of the million dollars.
"So, Pérez signed over a million dollars that I hold onto, and if he loses the chairman race, I just keep it?"
"Exactly. But if Pérez wins and becomes chairman, you take that million as a signing bonus and join Real Madrid."
"Haha, is the guy nuts?"
"They say he's the CEO of Spain's top construction firm, and he's splashing cash in the most creative way."
Figo clutched his stomach laughing, then scooped up his approaching daughter and set her on his knee.
"Go tell our Barcelona boss. Real made this offer, but I'm not going anywhere—though they should sort out my salary properly."
Luis Figo figured he'd snag a free million dollars and use it as leverage in salary negotiations with Barcelona.
Madrid TV.
A debate was underway among Real Madrid shareholders for the elected chairman position.
Incumbent chairman Lorenzo Sanz appeared relaxed, aiming for re-election.
This season, he'd led Real Madrid to their 8th UEFA Champions League title in the 99-00 campaign—a crowning achievement.
His opponent, Florentino Pérez of ASC Construction, hammered away with negativity: "What's a Champions League win worth if we're only 5th in the league? That's not Real Madrid caliber."
Pérez pushed his vision for the club's next big plan.
[I'll bring in the world's best players to make Real Madrid Europe's undisputed powerhouse. Not some 'whose son-in-law' type, but real class acts.]
On live TV, Pérez mocked Lorenzo Sanz by pointedly referencing Real Madrid's Michels Salgado, who was married to Sanz's daughter.
[New Real Madrid Project. We'll build a Galácticos team. I wouldn't hesitate to spend 100 million euros on the best.]
[You think money buys everything? Who the hell are you even planning to sign?]
[We'll sign Barcelona's Luis Figo, plus Juventus's Zinedine Zidane, Roma's Francesco Totti, and more.]
[This guy's full of hot air!]
Pérez declared on live TV, watched by every Real Madrid shareholder: "If I'm elected chairman, I'll sign the world's top players—including Luis Figo."
That single statement rocked Spanish football and became the turning point in the Real Madrid chairman election.
Meanwhile, after signing Baggio, I'd been reviewing Hainke's recommended coaching staff and reports on incoming and outgoing transfers.
[Liverpool's made another offer for Henchoz. 7.5 million pounds is their final ultimatum.]
"Henchoz, Henchoz, Henchoz..."
Stéphane Henchoz, the Swiss defender whose name we pronounced the English way.
Over the two years I'd run Blackburn, he'd been a rock at center-back.
At 26, he had prime years ahead, but injuries plagued him—every full match seemed to bring a crisis.
The agent had spoken directly to Henchoz about the Liverpool move, and after some thought, I decided.
"At 7.5 million pounds, sell him. Tell Henchoz—or Anselmo, whatever—to do well there."
[Thank you for approving the transfer, Mr. Lee.]
No matter what anyone said, Henchoz had performed well enough for Blackburn.
And heading to Liverpool? Well, if a player wants to go, I'm cool with sending them off.
Knock knock—
Just as Henchoz's transfer was settled, the door opened and Hainke walked in.
"That Swiss fellow's leaving?"
"Yeah, it's done. Leaves us with Southgate, Martin Taylor, and Marlon Broomes at center-back."
"That Korean chap, Ryu, seemed to know center-back play too."
With that, Hainke handed me the transfer list.
There were several center-back candidates, but one circled in red caught my eye.
"Erik Melberg?"
"Erik Melberg—call him Melberg for short. Swedish defender currently at Racing Santander in Spain."
Ah, Melberg it was.
Twenty-four years old this year, nearly 190cm tall, and he'd debuted for Sweden at Euro 2000 this season.
Built like a Viking warrior with a massive frame, he was a powerhouse center-back, excelling in aerial duels and physical battles.
"I looked at a ton of lists, but this guy's the best."
"Expected price?"
"Racing says 5 million euros should get negotiations going."
"Got it. Sign him."
A light was flickering on in Hainke's face, like an Osram bulb warming up.
Other big names were on the list too.
"Brad Friedel..."
"That American keeper's a free agent from Liverpool. Since we're sending Henchoz their way, how about priority negotiation? Long-term successor to Schmeichel."
"Okay, next—Haaland?"
"Free agent too, perfect fit. He's a 'sechsor'—defensive midfielder—but can play center-back or right-back."
"Sechsor?"
"In Germany, they call number-six defensive mids 'sechsors' from the old rules."
Anyway, Alf-Inge Haaland from Alf-Inge—fine by me.
Hainke liked a solid midfield with two hardworking, defensive central mids, so reinforcements under Baggio were always welcome.
"I'll recommend any other good deals that pop up on the market."
"Please do."
"And soon, candidates for the coach interviews will arrive."
Hainke's recommended coaches were each a force of personality.
Tactics coach Peter Hermann.
Leverkusen's legend from his playing days, and since '89, their head coach to this day.
Leverkusen wanted a 500,000 euro buyout fee, but I said just pay it.
Goalkeeping coach Walter Junghans.
The one German coach Hainke took everywhere during his Benfica days—fluent in English, Spanish, and German. Approved.
"Werner Leuthardt... Isn't he a German tennis player? Even did the Olympics."
"Yeah, just retired and starting a second career as a fitness trainer. He's got a sports education degree, so we'll bring him on for conditioning."
"Mm... sure."
Hainke's Osram bulb was now fully lit, nodding vigorously.
"You're really giving me everything. No matter what, we'll win trophies this season."
"Take it easy, take it easy. I'm not demanding a treble or invincible season in our first year. Year one is adaptation time."
I grabbed the remote to watch some TV, and sports news came on.
[A transfer of the century might be brewing in Spain. A team has stepped up to pay the full 'buyout' clause—long a paper tiger.]
"Ho?"
"Ah! A team actually paying the buyout?"
[Florentino Pérez, newly appointed Real Madrid chairman via shareholder vote, has Barcelona rival Luis Figo as his top target.]
[Figo has a 60 million euro buyout clause. The record is Christian Vieri's 46.5 million euros from Lazio to Inter in '99. That's impossible money.]
[Barcelona chairman Joan Gaspart declared, 'No one can pay that,' vowing to keep Figo.]
"Real Madrid's really going for the 60 million euro buyout."
"We have to let them. Then we swoop in with the same."
"!"
We can't bid first—Pérez would just scoff, "What backwater English club dares match our bid?" and complicate things.
So we shadow Real Madrid's moves without a peep, then stick right behind them.
When Figo actually negotiates, we jump out, smack Real in the back of the head, and snag Figo. That's my plan.
I pulled out my checkbook from the drawer, grabbed a pen.
And wrote out exactly 60 million euros, just like Real Madrid's prep, showing it to Hainke.
"Coach, not a word. Proceed with training. Prep Figo's spot."
"Ha, hahaha! Understood, Mr. Lee."
The transfer of the century began quietly, just like that.