Chapter 65
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Gattuso Transfer Saga (2)
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Winter transfer window was just around the corner, so I called in the press.
Not just the English reporters, but even the correspondents from Korea—all of them packed the room, creating a sea of people.
'Is Gattuso announcing he's accepted Milan's offer?'
'They say it's 20 million euros? That's top-class money.'
'Even the mighty Lancashire Trumpet can't stand up to AC Milan. Can they find a replacement this late?'
Amid the murmurs, I yanked the mic right out of its stand.
Not just the mic—the whole stand came up with it, dangling awkwardly.
"Oh, just like Freddie Mercury, huh? Could be fun walking around with this thing for a big announcement."
The reporters burst into applause and laughter as I hoisted the mic-stand combo.
"Alright, enough joking around. Time for the real announcement."
"What's the big news today, Mr. Lee?"
"Listen up, everyone. What did I say mid-season? That after Rio Ferdinand, if a better, greater defender came along, I'd bring him to Leeds—no, to Blackburn."
"Are Blackburn signing a defender in the winter window?"
"They spent 60 million euros on Figo last summer, and now more?!"
Shocked faces all around. I plopped down on the podium stage, mic stand in hand, to meet their eyes at eye level.
"You all know this already. AC Milan has made an offer to Gattuso—up to 20 million euros."
It was common knowledge.
They figured I'd talk about finding a replacement.
"Milan expects us to take 20 million in cash plus a player in trade for Gattuso. So today, I'm making one announcement."
"!?"
"We're targeting one of Milan's players too. His name is 'Maldini'."
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The press room exploded like a bomb had dropped.
A few reporters even asked if they'd misheard.
"Mr. Lee, did you just say Maldini?"
"Yes."
"Is there some prospect named Maldini?"
"No, the great captain of AC Milan—that Maldini."
"N-no way! You mean Milan's handing over their heart?"
Even the prideful English press, overflowing with domestic league bias, shouted that it was impossible.
Okay, fair enough.
Honestly, I didn't think Maldini would up and join us either.
But this? This was a counterpunch to Milan's first strike.
"Milan's after Gattuso means they're rebuilding big-time. They're offering cash and players to snag him. We're targeting Maldini with that player."
"No matter how promising Gattuso is now, why would Maldini go—and with extra cash on top?"
"Exactly. So if it's Maldini alone, we'll offer 30 million euros in cash."
"!!!"
"Ferdinand set the record for a defender at 23 million, right? This tops it."
They were speechless. All they could mutter was "insane."
Who was Maldini?
His father, Cesare Maldini, was a legendary Milan franchise star and former AC Milan manager—a one-club man who joined as a youth and never left, the core of Italy's national defense.
And now this upstart Asian billionaire thought he could buy that Maldini, just because recent form was good?
"Of course it's a tough transfer. Like Roberto Baggio or Luis Figo. But 30 million euros is the respect due to the world's best defender and Milan's legend."
"H-how do you even come up with that money? More parent company support?"
"You know Master Blackburn Plan? Barclays Bank's moving into the new town under construction. They say if Blackburn signs a world-class player, they'll gladly help."
"!!!"
"Oh, and my dividend from parent company shares this New Year could buy one or two decent players anyway. Clear enough?"
I'd poured money into IT stocks and real estate, flipped it overseas for massive gains, bought back shares, and pocketed the dividends.
Money just cycles around. I wasn't Abu Dhabi or Qatar oil money, but I wouldn't lose to most clubs financially.
Ever.
[England's Mad Owner Targets Maldini!]
[Blackburn Rovers Officially Bid 30 Million Euros for Paolo Maldini.]
[AC Milan Fans: 'If Maldini Is Sold, We'll Burn the San Siro!']
The walls of AC Milan's Renaissance-style, stately club office were splattered with countless egg yolks and tomato stains.
RRRRR-RRRRR-
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP- BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-
Ding- DING-DING-DING-
"Nothing's confirmed right now."
"Yes, yes! Paolo is the team's heart. Where would he go?"
"It's just English nonsense. No way it'll happen—they're threatening to burn the club down. Mamma mia! Don't say such horrible things!"
The Milan office phones were ringing off the hook. Staff sweated bullets explaining to furious callers.
Inside the chairman's office, thick cigar smoke hung heavy.
Berlusconi puffed away as Galliani sat rigid, cold sweat dripping.
"Who was our most expensive signing?"
"Andrei Shevchenko, 23 million euros."
"Our most expensive sale?"
AC Milan had a policy of buying and selling cheaper than other Serie A clubs—even rivals like Lazio, Roma, Juventus, or Inter in the derby.
Their transfers were always smooth.
"Who was our priciest sale? Adriano?"
"Probably Kluivert. Last season to Barcelona, 12.5 million euros."
Berlusconi exhaled a long plume of smoke and eyed the transfer proposal for Paolo Maldini from England.
"30 million euros—that'd break Milan's record. For a 33-year-old veteran?"
"Ch-Chairman!"
"Luis Figo left Barcelona for a new challenge in that English backwater. Doesn't our Paolo want one?"
The staggering 30 million euros had dollar signs gleaming in Berlusconi's eyes.
Galliani could only gape in horror.
'This crazy chairman! Only a madman would even consider it! Football second to money?!'
Berlusconi was infamous for using soccer for personal gain—a media and political titan.
But as club owner, he invested generously.
Yet here, 30 million for the team's heart—Maldini—and he was seriously pondering it.
"It'd help fund next season's targets: Rui Costa from Fiorentina, Filippo Inzaghi from Juventus."
"Absolutely not! I'd stake my job on opposing it."
"Just kidding, kidding. Haha!"
It didn't sound like a joke at all. Galliani's bald head glistened with sweat.
"Paolo, we love you!"
"Stay a Milanista forever, please!"
"Don't go! Paolo!"
As Paolo Maldini finished training and headed to his car, fans held up signs begging him to stay.
"This is nuts."
He tutted in disbelief, then rolled down the window and waved reassuringly.
It was his promise: he wasn't going anywhere, forever Milan's legend.
English Premier League?
He'd never even considered it—a crude, graceless league.
Blackburn Rovers?
Some backwater club he'd only heard of because Roberto Baggio went there. 'Even he couldn't stay in Serie A at the end and chased money.'
30 million euros?
Grateful they valued him that highly, but would he sell his soul for it? Would he agree even if the club did?
No way. He'd never leave Milan.
Maldini reaffirmed it, signaled his loyalty to the fans, and drove off quietly.
RRRR-RRRR
His phone rang in the car. He pulled over and answered.
"Hello?"
[Buonasera, Paolo. Haven't heard from you in a while?]
"Roberto..."
[Isn't our boss's offer to you making waves even in Italy?]
"FXXX! @#!@#!@$$!#!@@#!!!!!!"
Maldini unleashed a torrent of Milanese profanity.
Not long after, I got Galliani's rejection call.
[Maldini is off-limits. Absolutely not.]
"Then no Gattuso transfer either. Officially withdraw the Gattuso offer."
[...You planned this from the start, didn't you? Propose for Maldini just to shake us up because we're after Gattuso?]
"Hmm, who knows? I'd love a Baggio-Figo-Maldini squad if he came."
[Thanks to you, every egg and tomato in Milan is flying at the San Siro! Cut the theatrics after this once.]
"Then withdraw the Gattuso offer."
[Grinding teeth... Never again.]
Call ended, fax arrived immediately.
Official: 'Full Withdrawal of Offer for Gennaro Gattuso.'
"Secretary—make ten copies. Three to Gattuso's house, one to Heynckes, one for the training ground where the squad can see, five for the press."
"Got it, boss."
I'd completely shut down Milan's bid and extracted their surrender.
Days like this called for a team dinner.
Round everyone up after training.
That evening, we gathered.
Barbecue sizzling outside the training ground. Players swapped booze for non-alcoholic cocktails and sodas, grilling sausages and meat.
"Things got hectic, but let's nail the second half of the season."
"Yes, boss!"
"This is prime meat and sausages handpicked by Mario Romano—Gattuso's father-in-law and our head chef. The juices alone make a difference."
Everyone dug in. Gattuso approached me—no shame or avoidance, true to form.
"Boss, Milan's out, so I'll stick with Blackburn and keep grinding."
"Wise choice."
"But the Italy national team..."
"Win a major tournament this time, and even Giovanni Trapattoni can't ignore the Italian press. You'll make the squad, Rino."
"Hahaha, yeah. I'll make you national team material for sure."
Heynckes called sausages "bratwurst," pairing with beer.
His face was extra flushed today, patting Gattuso's back. Gattuso chugged champagne like a champ.
"Alright, prep for the next match. Let's take down Parma from Serie A in the UEFA Cup too!"
"Let's go!"
"This year's UEFA Cup champs: Blackburn Rovers!"
As cheers rang out, one figure watched quietly from afar.
Baggio.
"Roberto, you not eating?"
Figo brought over a plate of meat, but Baggio just smiled faintly.
'Baggio, you bastard—did you set this up?'
'No idea what you're on about. Calm down and think, Paolo. Would our boss really blow the horn for you just to snag you?'
'What?'
'I know Milan. Baldy and Penguin Man's puffing cigars over our Rino, so boss fires back saying he'll grab a Milanista.'
'Even so, they dared touch me? Not just any player—me?!'
'They targeted the one heart Milan can't lose. Pull yourself together; you'll see.'
Baggio calmly explained the inside story and convinced his friend Paolo Maldini.
Afterward, Maldini lost focus in matches, making big errors, but fans still cheered him on.
As Baggio predicted, Gattuso's transfer fizzled, and the Maldini bid vanished with it.
Baggio smiled at the peaceful end to the winter saga.
"Roberto, quit smiling and eat."
"Ah, thanks, Luis."
To Baggio, this team was more fun than his days at Italy's big three striped powerhouses.