79 - Past Mentors & Future Mentees
"Boss, here's the list of promising youngsters."
I scanned the roster handed over by chief scout Hobson, reading through it steadily. Youth players ranging from as young as under-10s up to 17-year-olds. Overseas youth signings came with heavy regulations, but domestic transfers were a different story—just convince the parents, and it was like transferring schools, no big hassle. Sure, there was compensation to the youth academies, but it was pocket change compared to actual transfer fees.
"And this is the list of teams in the relegation zone."
"Got it."
Manchester City, Coventry City, Bradford City—all three clubs with "City" in the name had gone down this season. Man City especially, promoted only to crash straight back out after one season. Tough break, City. Hang in there with grit; your shining moment will come someday.
Speaking of which, I eyed the list and picked up the phone myself.
First call went to Manchester City's chairman, David Bernstein.
"Line's yours."
"Chairman, this is Blackburn's Mr. Lee."
"What's your angle? Kicking a man while he's down?"
"Heard you're rebuilding for promotion next season? Kevin Keegan in as manager, right?"
"Get to the point."
"That defender Richard Dunne your former boss brought over from Everton—sell him cheap."
I pitched the 22-year-old Irish prospect Richard Dunne, and Bernstein mulled it over before quoting a price.
"We paid 3.5 million pounds for him."
"But he was just rotation, yeah? You wanted him at right-back, ended up plugging him in at center-back."
"...3 million."
"1.5 million pounds."
"Hanging up now."
"I'll call back tomorrow then."
"...2.7 million."
"With add-ons. 1.7 million base, plus 1 million if he hits 10 international caps and 25 league appearances."
"I'll think it over."
Call ended, I pulled a cigarette from my drawer and lit up. Man City would bite—teams like Southampton and Charlton before them, one relegation from the EPL and they were scrambling to cover bank interest. They'd have to sell a few to stabilize. Dunne was perfect: 188cm, 90kg of physicality, Irish international with fight beyond his years.
I took a deep drag and dialed the next number. From the long list of prospects, one name jumped out—Leeds.
"Hello, Mr. Ridsdale!"
"Why the hell are you calling me?"
"Apologies for that aquarium chat in your office last time—let me make it up with some good news."
"You've got one minute."
He still sounded sour toward me, but for the player I wanted, I pressed on.
"Heard salary negotiations with your existing squad got tough after signing Robbie Keane and Fowler this season. Need a Leeds youth prospect—use the compensation for those talks."
"Who?"
"James Milner."
Spotted him instantly on the Leeds youth academy list—had to have him.
"No way on that kid."
"You know who he is?"
"Think I'm an idiot? He's the future of the team in U-15 youth leagues."
"You've got immediate re-signing issues with first-team stars—price this prospect high, but he's 5 years from ready."
Choices, choices: Sell high-wage stars like Keane, Fowler, Kewell, Alan Smith, Viduka, Ferdinand? Or offload other prospects to fund their salaries? Champs League semis last season brought cash, but no group stage this year—vault's tight. 1 million pounds? Peanuts to Leeds normally, but every quid counted now.
"You know the board sets youth compensation, right? It'll top 1 million."
"Wired immediately—crisp sterling pounds. Milner leaves Leeds academy for Blackburn's, and you pocket 1 million."
"Fine, I'll talk to the manager."
Leeds deal done. Richard Dunne, James Milner... in 2-3 years, starters for sure.
Soon after, a call came in.
"Boss, call from West Ham. Glen Roeder, their manager."
"Expected Man City, not West Ham out of nowhere?"
I took the line from my secretary.
"Line's yours, this is Blackburn's Mr. Lee."
"Hello, Chairman. Hammers' new manager Glen Roeder here."
Polite greeting, unlike his snarly predecessor Harry Redknapp.
"What can I do for you?"
"Embarrassing to ask, Chairman, but... have you tampered with our academy?"
"What the hell?"
"One of our youth kids is throwing a fit to go to Blackburn. Even his sister and mom showed up, cleared out his locker."
"Wait, who?"
"Glen Johnson. Joined our youth team last year."
Oh my God! Glen Johnson—England's nailed-on right-back after Neville. Sweet deal, but why now?
"News to me. I'm scouting prospects, but Johnson..."
Flip, flip—while flipping through Hobson's notebook, a note fluttered onto the table. I picked it up.
Since Lilian Thuram joined Blackburn, he's donated £1M in soccer gear nationwide as charity—especially to underprivileged academy kids from rival teams and amateur leagues: boots, balls, etc. List for future negotiations.
— Hobson
"!!!"
The list showed prospects who'd received Thuram's gear—Glen Johnson included. Clever bastard, Thuram. Pre-contract from Parma, before official signing—no rules broken. A class act World Cup winner paving our future!
I got it instantly and told Roeder.
"Mr. Roeder, did one of our players leave a 'big gift' at your academy?"
"Ah, right—Lilian Thuram sent 30 balls, 20 pairs of boots. We wrote a thank-you, FA cleared it as personal donation..."
"Guess one prospect fell for Thuram's generosity. We'll follow FA procedure, pay proper fee—£500K."
"Bill us for the house and scholarship we provided too."
"...Send the invoice. I'll buy the house when I'm in London."
Whole family relocates to Blackburn, new place sorted. West Ham spot? Weekend getaway for away games. Unexpected steal: Glen Johnson, pro first-team contract on his 17th birthday.
Hung up, thrill shot through me—fist clenched tight.
"Choices matter. Picking Thuram over Nesta was a hundred times right!"
A bit later.
Official signing ceremony with Paulo Bento from Portugal, photos with the press.
"Looking forward to it, Paulo."
"Thanks for the Premier League shot."
"Here's to more good ties ahead."
"?"
Yeah, not just as a player—long-term, Bento.
I brought him to Heynckes and introduced him to the squad.
"Oi, Paulo~"
"Luis!"
Figo rushed over first, bear-hug and all, introducing him personally. They chatted in Portuguese, switched to English—Holland, Schmeichel, Van Bommel shaking hands.
"Lots of new faces before the season even kicks off?"
"Lilian!"
Thuram arrived in training kit, glasses off, warming up. His wife followed with their two boys, greetings all around.
I approached Thuram, patted him down.
"Thanks, man—truly."
"For what?"
"Your 'grand-scale donation' scored us an unexpected gem."
"Oh, that. Swapped sponsors, passed gear to those in need."
"Karma's coming your way."
Shaking hands, I eyed his wife and kids.
"Eldest is 4, little one's three months— just holding his head up. Haha."
"Like father, like son—they'll be stars."
Lilian Thuram's boys: Marcus and Khéphren. With Thuram joining training alongside Holland, Van Bommel, Schmeichel.
I knew. I could see it. The Blackburn of 'Mark van Bommel', 'Lilian Thuram', 'Peter Schmeichel', 'Alf-Inge Haaland' right now.
Twenty years on: 'Ruben van Bommel', 'Casper Schmeichel', 'Marcus Thuram', 'Khéphren Thuram', 'Erling Haaland' Blackburn.
"Depth's insane now, huh?"
"Most these signings, boss. Class veterans mixed with 2-3 year prospects."
"Haha, seniors and kindergarten running together?"
"Mentor-mentee system. Vets lead, kids follow. Blackburn's policy from here on."
From takeover day one: big-name vets, kids shadowing captains and seniors for tight-knit squad. This becomes our core.
"Midfield: Gattuso-Van Bommel rotation with Bento, Parker. Yoo Sung-chul, Haaland, Barry on sides."
"Just need striker depth."
"Expect it. Good forwards are drying up..."
"I'm off to London briefly. Date with Alice too..."
Heynckes grinned, patted my chest.
Down with scouts, signed Glen Johnson, housed his whole family in Blackburn.
"Mr. Lee, thank you—it's a dream."
"Earn that first-team deal, we'll celebrate then."
Johnson: lost dad young, mom raising him, sis, bro. Scouts guided them to the station; I checked their old place.
Modest Stratford, London mansion—academy-provided size. Time for remodel scouting.
"Stratford's handy for Euro branch commutes."
Seeing Alice tomorrow—might tour London meanwhile?