Chapter 88: Conquering Stamford Bridge! A Hat Trick on a Silver Platter
"Did you not see my signals? Didn't hear me shouting?"
At halftime, Yang Cheng was visibly frustrated.
He wasn't satisfied at all with how his team had performed in the first half.
From his point of view, the match shouldn't have been like this at all.
Chelsea's midfield was full of holes—especially through the center.
So how did his team end up looking so rattled?
"Luka, I told you to watch Lampard. Didn't you notice anything?"
Modrić looked completely lost.
The coach had told him to pay attention to Lampard's positioning—and he had.
Chelsea's midfield had barely contributed to the attack in the first half.
It was Joe Cole who had looked lively throughout.
But seeing Modrić's bewildered expression, Yang Cheng suddenly remembered—
The Croatian was only 20.
And with that realization came another:
His players were still too young.
They lacked experience. Their ability to read and react mid-game wasn't there yet.
They'd completely missed the intent behind his instructions.
Yang Cheng grabbed the tactical board and quickly mapped out Chelsea's positioning and movement zones.
"Look here. Essien sits deepest, but one Essien isn't enough. He's never been the kind of midfielder to sit and shield the back line."
Why was Essien called the Ghanaian Buffalo?
Because he could run all day.
If Makélélé was a wall, Essien was a wrecking ball.
"Joe Cole was their main threat in the first half. He started centrally, but once we locked down the flanks—Mourinho made an adjustment."
"Joe Cole started drifting between the half-spaces, pulling strings like a No.10 and combining with the wingers to create 2-vs-1 situations."
Now the players were starting to see it more clearly.
"So where was Lampard?" Yang Cheng asked.
Modrić looked at the board—and suddenly got it.
"He wasn't pushing forward. He was covering Joe Cole."
"Exactly. He was constantly shifting to support Joe Cole, and didn't dare go forward himself."
Joe Cole was an outlier among English players—excellent on the ball, creative… but fragile.
If he lost the ball, Essien would be the last man in front of the defense.
And if Essien got pulled out of position?
Bayswater's midfield could rip them apart.
Modrić's eyes lit up. He realized he had been playing too deep, too cautiously.
In truth, Lampard was only shadowing Joe Cole—not pressing forward.
"That area just in front of their box—completely unguarded."
"If we cut off Cole's link with the wings, they'll either lose the ball or pass it back."
Normally, Chelsea would have another option—Drogba dropping deep.
But Drogba was carrying a knock, so Mourinho had started Crespo instead.
"We don't have much time in the second half. We've got to strike fast."
Yang Cheng then laid out the adjustments on the board.
"Mourinho put Gallas at right-back today. That tells you how scared he is of Franck."
Ribéry had been the most explosive left winger in the Premier League so far. His stats were outstanding, and his individual ability had terrified defenders.
Ferreira, Geremi—no one could handle him.
So Mourinho used Gallas, a natural center-back.
"When we win the ball, quick passes. Build on the right."
"Lennon." Yang Cheng pointed.
"Your job is to drag Del Horno wide, force their backline to shift."
"Džeko—you need to pull the center-backs toward the right side."
"Gallas is a center-back playing wide. His instinct is always to shift inward toward Terry. I've seen him do it several times in the first half."
"Franck." Yang Cheng looked at Ribéry.
"You know what to do."
"Got it. I'll drift inside, then cut into the left side of the box."
"Perfect. We need to come out strong and score early!"
…
Meanwhile, in the West Stand VIP suite at Stamford Bridge, Roman Abramovich was in a great mood.
His team was leading 1–0.
"Peter, I heard Arsenal's matchday income skyrocketed after moving from Highbury to their new stadium?"
he asked Peter Kenyon, Chelsea's CEO, and his prized hire from Manchester United.
"That's right. From under £40 million to an expected £90 million," Kenyon replied.
Abramovich's eyes gleamed.
More than double.
"And our ticket pricing plan for next season?"
"We've drafted the proposal but haven't announced it yet."
"Let's hear it."
Kenyon had done this before.
Since joining Chelsea, his main goal had been to increase revenue as quickly as possible.
Ticket reform was the centerpiece.
How to boost matchday income without expanding the stadium?
Raise prices.
"The West Stand is our newest and best for views—especially the upper tier."
Stamford Bridge wasn't built all at once. It was a long-term renovation project.
After Ken Bates bought the club, the stadium was gradually updated.
The West Stand wasn't completed until 2001.
It held 51 executive boxes—and the best views.
"We plan to raise the entire West Stand upper tier to £1,250 for season tickets."
That section had plenty of seats. This alone would bump revenues.
"Below the boxes, there are 2,500 seats. We want to label that as a VIP sponsor zone and sell it off in a corporate suite format."
"We don't have exact figures yet, but starting next season, we expect a significant increase in matchday income."
Abramovich nodded.
"Make sure the fans don't revolt."
"Don't worry. We'll work with supporters' groups first," Kenyon assured him.
He'd been down this road before.
"Too bad the North and East stands are surrounded by railway lines. South and West have no room to expand either. Otherwise…"
Kenyon trailed off.
He'd just realized Abramovich's expression had darkened.
He knew he'd said too much.
Everyone had heard the rumors—Chelsea had tried to buy Bayswater's stadium.
And failed.
"Give it time. Two years, max. That land will be mine." Abramovich said through gritted teeth.
"Two years?" Kenyon was surprised.
Standing nearby, Marina Granovskaia responded to Abramovich on his behalf.
"When those Chinese took over the site, they promised the Westminster City Council the stadium would be built by 2008."
"Look at them now—do they look like they have the money to finish it?"
Peter Kenyon nodded with a smile.
"I've heard they're under heavy debt pressure too."
Biting off more than they could chew.
Just building their training ground had cost £20 million—absolute madness.
…
No one expected what was coming as the first half came to an end.
The moment the second half kicked off, Bayswater Chinese FC came out swinging.
Chelsea hoped to continue the momentum from the first half, maybe even double their lead.
But out on the pitch, they were stunned—Bayswater hadn't read the script.
Joe Cole continued to float between the flanks, trying to link play…
But now, Lassana Diarra and Yaya Touré were hounding him constantly.
Just two minutes in, Diarra stole the ball clean off Joe Cole near the right side of the center circle.
He carried the ball forward a step—before Lampard could close down, he passed it to Modrić.
The Croatian sent a through ball straight into the gap behind Chelsea's defensive line.
Džeko burst between the two center-backs and ran into the right side of the box.
But from that tight angle, Cech easily shut him down.
Still, the move was a warning shot—Bayswater's counterattack had begun.
Mourinho saw the shift and immediately called for his players to fall back and regroup.
But it was too late—wave after wave of attacks came crashing down.
54th minute, Yaya Touré snatched the ball and passed to Chimbonda on the right.
The French full-back had been brilliant all season, and here he was again—charging down the flank.
As he approached Chelsea's half, he spotted Lennon hugging the touchline.
Chimbonda drove diagonally into the box, drawing the attention of Essien and Del Horno.
Just as they shifted to pressure him, he slipped a ball through the gap between Del Horno and Terry, toward the top right corner of the box.
Lennon, already sprinting, was perfectly timed.
Terry and Del Horno scrambled to close him down.
Džeko also shifted right, dragging Carvalho with him to maintain Chelsea's defensive shape.
But Lennon had no intention of cutting inside.
Instead, from the right edge of the box, he cut the ball back sharply.
Modrić, timing his run perfectly, arrived near the right edge of the penalty spot.
Without stopping, he flicked the ball with a delicate chip—
It floated over Gallas, who had tucked too centrally.
And on the far post—completely unmarked—was Ribéry.
The French winger dived in behind Gallas and headed the ball into the net at point-blank range.
"GOAL!!!"
"54th minute—Franck Ribéry equalizes for Bayswater Chinese FC!"
"1–1!"
Ribéry sprinted to the sidelines, screaming with joy, fists pumping.
His teammates swarmed him.
They had leveled the score—at Stamford Bridge.
…
Mourinho instantly realized something was wrong.
His attack had failed to break Bayswater's defense all game.
Now that the score was level, the Portuguese manager made a bold move.
He subbed on Drogba for Duff, switching to a 4-4-2 with Drogba and Crespo up front.
Just five minutes later, Gudjohnsen came on for Robben.
Three strikers.
Classic Mourinho:
If skill doesn't work, throw more bodies at it.
To be fair, all three strikers had different strengths.
Gudjohnsen was a connector, great at linking playDrogba was a tank, pure physical powerCrespo was a clinical poacher
Yang Cheng wasn't fazed.
He subbed on Andreasen for Aaron Lennon and shifted to a 4-3-2-1 formation.
Baines and Chimbonda pushed up to handle width.
This setup completely stifled Chelsea's forward line.
Mourinho's plan didn't work.
The 40,000+ Chelsea fans roared from the stands—
But on the pitch, the Blue shirts were running out of ideas.
Mourinho had long struggled with a lack of creativity in midfield.
Aside from the 74th-minute long ball from Lampard that forced Neuer to come off his line, and 76th-minute shot from Drogba that Neuer saved—Chelsea had no real chances.
Yang Cheng stood quietly on the sideline.
He still had one more trick up his sleeve.
…
"Hold the line! Hold the line!"
Modrić shouted from inside the box.
Chelsea had earned a free kick on the right wing, Bayswater's left side.
Baines had fouled Lampard near the left corner of the box.
Lampard stood near the penalty spot, ready for the second ball.
José Fonte barked instructions, organizing the backline.
He was emerging as a true defensive leader.
The team trusted him.
When everything was set, Fonte clapped hard.
"Stay sharp! Focus! This one's crucial!"
His teammates responded in unison.
Even Chelsea players paused to glance over—
These kids were fired up.
What kind of newly promoted team was this?
One of the youngest squads in all of Europe, and already in the Premier League's top four?
Unbelievable.
You couldn't understand it until you played them yourself.
Then you'd feel it—this team's tenacity was real.
…
The whistle blew—Howard Webb signaled for the kick.
Chaos in the box.
Chelsea threw everything forward:
TerryGallasCarvalhoCrespoDrogbaGudjohnsen
Outside the box? Joe Cole and Essien.
It was the 86th minute—no time to play safe.
But just as Lampard swung in the ball, Bayswater's defense surged forward as one—
Not toward the ball, but toward the men.
They weren't trying to win the ball.
They were trying to disrupt Chelsea's jump timing.
On the sidelines, Mourinho leapt up.
"What kind of bullshit tactic is this?!"
But it worked.
Chelsea's attackers were caught off guard. No one got clean contact on the ball.
The ball dropped near the left side of the penalty spot.
Gallas rushed in—
But standing in front of him was a mountain of a man:
Yaya Touré.
The Ivorian midfielder blocked Gallas with his body, trapped the ball with his chest, and nudged it toward the top of the box.
Gallas reached out, trying to drag Touré back—
He even threw in a shoulder check.
Gallas wasn't tall, but he trusted his strength.
But this time—he crashed into a wall.
Yaya Touré barely shifted his weight, but Gallas stumbled.
Too strong.
He was like a second coming of Drogba.
Yaya Touré burst out of the box, took the ball he'd just controlled with his chest, and powered forward with a heavy touch.
"Bayswater Chinese FC on the counterattack!"
Closest to him, Joe Cole failed to close down.
Yaya brushed right past him like he wasn't even there.
Essien, expecting Cole to delay the run, was stunned. He abandoned his initial retreat and charged to intercept.
At the same time, he yelled at Del Horno to get back quickly.
Yaya's strides grew longer and faster, and he soon crossed midfield.
Essien closed in near the center circle, trying to force Yaya to the right sideline.
Two African titans collided.
Essien, shorter but compact and physical, stayed tight.
Yaya had to slow down slightly, shielding the ball with his right foot to maintain control.
Just then—
A shout came from the right:
"Over here!"
Catching a flash of red in the corner of his eye, Yaya passed instinctively.
Chimbonda, hugging the sideline, raced onto the ball and kept charging down the wing.
As Yaya released the pass, Essien gave up the duel and turned back to defend.
Yaya sprinted alongside him.
Džeko eased up slightly at the top of the box.
Ribéry was charging in far-side, shadowed by Lampard.
This was a lightning counterattack—Bayswater weren't hesitating.
Chimbonda reached Chelsea's 30-yard line and slowed, cutting diagonally toward the box, dragging Del Horno with him.
Del Horno, known for his attacking prowess, was not a great defender.
Since arriving at Chelsea, he'd made several costly errors.
And now, he was the last line of defense.
He kept his cool—reminding himself not to dive in.
Just keep him out of the box, he told himself. That's all I need to do.
But as Chimbonda approached, he suddenly dropped his left shoulder—as if to cut inside.
Del Horno flinched, shifting his weight.
And that was the opening.
Chimbonda quickly rolled the ball down the line with his left foot.
He was going to the byline!
Del Horno reacted fast, but a beat too late.
Chimbonda exploded forward, chased down his own pass on the right edge of the box, and glanced up.
Yaya Touré was already in the area, hand raised.
Džeko trailed slightly, with Ribéry bursting in far-side.
No hesitation.
Chimbonda whipped in a cross with his right foot.
Yaya Touré, a tank in full stride, charged into Chelsea's box like a battering ram.
He met the ball at the near post—leaping high above everyone.
For a second, he looked like a divine warrior descending from the heavens.
Essien, left behind, could only watch in awe.
Yaya twisted his neck and smashed a header toward the far corner.
Cech reacted instantly, flying across the goal, stretching every inch of his massive frame.
His fingertips grazed the ball—but couldn't stop it.
GOAL!!!
"GOAL!!! GOAL!!! GOAL!!!"
"86th minute—Bayswater Chinese FC take the lead!!"
"Yaya Touré with a bullet header to stun Stamford Bridge!!"
"It's 2–1!!!"
"The Ivorian midfielder launches like a missile and drills it past Petr Cech!"
"It's a last-minute dagger!"
"Bayswater Chinese FC have turned it around at the death!"
Yaya roared and wheeled away in celebration.
But before he could even get going, Džeko tackled him from behind in a bear hug.
Then came Ribéry, and the rest of the team.
They mobbed Yaya, piling on top of him in Chelsea's penalty area.
On the sideline, Yang Cheng was screaming and fist-pumping, exploding with joy and adrenaline.
A stark contrast to the despondent figure of Mourinho, who stood motionless by the home dugout.
Yaya eventually got up, clenched his fist, and roared toward his manager.
This wasn't provocation.
It wasn't even celebration.
It was gratitude.
He was saying to Yang Cheng:
"I didn't let you down!"
…
As the ball hit the back of the net, Stamford Bridge fell silent.
Then came a cascade of boos.
No one knew who the jeers were for—the home team or the visitors.
"We still have time!"
The stadium announcer's voice rang out.
"There are five minutes plus stoppage time left. We can still equalize—maybe even win!"
"Chelsea players—don't give up!"
"This is Stamford Bridge!"
"We haven't lost here in a long time. We can fight back!"
"Come on, Chelsea! Come on, Blues!"
The crowd was jolted back to life.
Chants and cheers surged through the stands.
On the touchline, Mourinho was roaring, urging his players forward.
Since he took over Chelsea, he'd never lost at home.
Yes, he'd lost to Bayswater before—twice.
Once in the League Cup final in Cardiff.
Once away.
But never here.
He prided himself on Stamford Bridge being a fortress.
He refused to lose to Bayswater at home.
"Go get them!"
Even with the crowd roaring, Abramovich and the directors in the box could clearly hear Mourinho's bellowing voice.
Chelsea's players went berserk.
From the kickoff, they launched wave after wave toward Bayswater's half.
The visitors retreated, packing bodies behind the ball.
Andreasen dropped into the backline. Modrić tracked back.
Their formation shifted into a 5-3-1-1—compact and resolute.
Chelsea had three strikers up front, but none of their midfielders could keep possession.
Eventually, they resorted to long balls, hoping one of their giants could do something.
But what kind of offense was that?
From the 87th minute onward, Chelsea didn't register a single shot from inside the box.
It was all long balls and desperate heaves—most of them intercepted or blocked.
They either lost the second ball or fired from miles out.
Neuer was unbothered.
And finally, referee Howard Webb blew the whistle.
It was over.
And Stamford Bridge?
Stunned.
The players on the pitch were stunned.
Mourinho stood on the sideline, utterly dejected.
In the stands, Chelsea fans sat in silence, dazed and speechless.
Only the Bayswater Chinese FC players were running and cheering, alive with celebration.
Yang Cheng couldn't contain himself—he sprinted onto the pitch and leapt onto Yaya Touré's back, fists raised in the air, screaming with joy.
They had beaten Chelsea!
At Stamford Bridge!
This wasn't the first time.
But this one… this one was different. It meant more.
Because this wasn't just Chelsea—
It was Mourinho's Chelsea.
…
The moment the match ended, the news spread across the world like wildfire.
In every country and region where the Premier League was broadcast, headlines exploded:
"Bayswater Chinese FC conquer Mourinho's Stamford Bridge!"
Goals from Ribéry and Yaya Touré had brought down the fortress.
The media and fans worldwide flooded the club with praise.
Just 20 days ago, everyone had looked at Bayswater's upcoming run of fixtures and offered only sympathy.
Even elite clubs would've struggled with that kind of schedule—so intense, so stacked with top opponents. Most had assumed they'd fall apart.
But instead, Yang Cheng's team emerged from the storm with their heads held high.
In the four league matches during the "death stretch," they earned 1 win, 2 draws, and 1 loss.
Not amazing—but far from disastrous, earning 5 valuable points.
That left them at 32 points, still 3rd in the Premier League, behind Manchester United (34) and Chelsea (37).
Liverpool sat just behind with 31.
And it didn't stop there.
They'd beaten Newcastle in the League Cup, advancing to the quarterfinals.
They'd gone 4 for 4 in the UEFA Cup, topping their group.
In league and cup, Bayswater Chinese FC had held firm, weathered the pressure, and remained part of the Premier League elite.
"This stretch brought us huge pressure," Yang Cheng said in the post-match press conference.
"But it also gave us invaluable experience."
"Our players have grown tremendously during this period."
"Most importantly, we've gained belief."
"We've proven we can stand toe-to-toe with the likes of Arsenal, Liverpool, Chelsea."
"We absolutely have what it takes to compete with the Premier League's best."
The media called it a declaration of war.
All around the world, fans and pundits alike recognized the truth:
Bayswater Chinese FC was no ordinary promoted team.
…
December 17, afternoon – Loftus Road Stadium.
Premier League Matchday 17: Bayswater vs Charlton Athletic.
At the start of the season, these two teams had been the biggest surprises in the Premier League.
Even at the end of October, both were in the top four and drawing headlines.
But November came—and they went in completely different directions.
Charlton collapsed:
1–4 loss to Blackburn (away)1–3 loss to Manchester United (home)0–1 loss to Aston Villa (away)2–5 humiliation by Manchester City (home)Only in Round 16 did they bounce back with a 2–0 win over Sunderland
They were also knocked out of the League Cup by Blackburn.
Meanwhile, Bayswater faced an even tougher slate of fixtures—far more intense, with far stronger opponents.
And yet, they emerged with 2 wins, 2 draws, 1 loss.
Their standing slipped slightly, but they still held 3rd place in the league.
Especially their 2–1 comeback win over Chelsea at Stamford Bridge—the entire country was still buzzing.
Let's be honest—most of English football still hated Chelsea.
Too rich. Too arrogant.
Only when the tide recedes do you see who's swimming naked.
Now that November and December had passed, the whole nation had started to take Bayswater Chinese FC seriously.
Charlton manager Alan Curbishley, in a pre-match interview, said:
"I hope we can prove ourselves with a win on the road."
What he didn't expect was that instead of proving anything, Charlton would be completely exposed.
Their goal? Lasted just 9 minutes.
…
With Džeko's star rising, starting striker Rickie Lambert was feeling the pressure.
His response?
Fight back.
Hard.
In just the 9th minute, he blasted a rocket from outside the box.
The power and suddenness caught Charlton keeper Dean Kiely completely off guard.
1–0!
It was Lambert's first opening goal of the season—and he was fired up.
From there, the match completely tilted Bayswater's way.
Charlton dropped back into counter-attacking mode, hoping to use Darren Bent's pace.
But in the 51st minute, Bayswater opened the second half with a barrage.
Ribéry, cutting in from the left, latched onto Modrić's long pass, and—without stopping—lofted the ball toward the goal.
Charlton defender Hreidarsson and keeper Kiely both expected someone to clear it.
They didn't.
And Lambert?
He was right there to poke it in.
2–0. Brace.
Lambert was over the moon.
Then, in the 61st minute, Leighton Baines delivered a pinpoint cross from the left, aiming for Lambert again.
Charlton center-back Chris Perry rose first—
But for some reason, maybe bad timing, his header went straight to Lambert.
Standing on the penalty spot, Lambert could hardly believe his luck.
First Ribéry spoon-feeds him, now Charlton's defender joins the party?
Was someone betting on this?
He wasn't asking questions.
He slammed it home.
3–0. Hat trick.
Lambert looked like a man possessed.
He had just picked up a hat trick off scraps—and loved every second of it.
The crowd at Loftus Road was loving it too.
After surviving the brutal winter schedule, Bayswater had finally gotten a week to rest.
And now, against a weakened Charlton side, they were back to playing explosive, dominant football.
…
While Bayswater were dismantling Charlton 3–0 at home:
Liverpool beat Sunderland 2–0 awayManchester United defeated Aston Villa 2–0 awaySpurs and Middlesbrough played to a thrilling 3–3 drawBolton crushed Everton 4–0 away
And in the match that had the entire world watching—
Arsenal hosted Chelsea at Highbury.
Chelsea won 2–0, with goals from Robben and Joe Cole.
With that win, Chelsea stayed atop the Premier League.
Manchester United, Bayswater, and Liverpool followed.
Arsenal?
They plummeted from 6th to 8th—below Bolton and Manchester City.
After 17 rounds, the Gunners had only 26 points.
Their title hopes?
All but gone.
This was now being hailed as the earliest in Arsenal's history that they'd been knocked out of the title race.
In the post-match press conference, Wenger lashed out, blaming Chelsea midfielder Essien, claiming the Ghanaian should have been sent off.
Mourinho fired back immediately, calling it nothing more than Wenger's helpless tantrum.
"If anyone deserved a red card in that match, it was Senderos."
"He fouled Drogba and should've been sent off. Then he clattered Robben. That should've been another red."
The British press largely sided with Chelsea, saying they had ripped off Arsenal's last shred of dignity.
The Sun, always eager to stir chaos, published a photo of John Terry hugging Thierry Henry after the final whistle.
No caption.
But from Henry's back, every reader could see the loneliness in that image.
Meanwhile, in Catalonia, Spain, Mundo Deportivo published an article:
"With Arsenal's title hopes now purely theoretical, a lonely Henry prepares to escape Highbury."
The piece sent Arsenal fans into a panic.
Vieira was gone.
Henry had become the one remaining pillar of the team.
Even the British media acknowledged:
"This is no longer Arsenal FC. It's Henry FC."
Which was both a compliment to Henry and a condemnation of Arsenal's decline.
Because if Henry were to leave—
What would be left?
…
"The fans are reacting strongly. We have to find a way to keep Henry."
After the Chelsea match, Arsenal were in a gloomy mood.
Chairman Peter Hill-Wood and Vice-Chairman David Dein traveled from central London to the Colney training base.
After calming the players, they sat down with Wenger in his office.
Hill-Wood didn't handle day-to-day operations—Dein ran the club.
But he always kept a close eye on the fans' sentiment.
Wenger glanced at Dein, who picked up the thread:
"We're working on a new contract. Henry's wages can go up to £125,000 per week."
At the time, Steven Gerrard held the league's highest wage at £100,000 per week.
Henry's current deal, set to expire in 2007, paid £75,000 per week.
So this raise was, by all standards, a sign of serious intent.
"I've spoken with Henry," Wenger said.
He knew full well: with both club executives here, they were pushing to seal this deal.
"He said he wants to see the club show ambition. He's disappointed with how things stand."
Hill-Wood and Dein exchanged a look.
There was frustration—and maybe even a touch of resentment.
"Can't he see we've invested £350 million in a brand-new stadium?" Hill-Wood asked rhetorically.
"It's the finest football stadium in England, maybe all of Britain. Isn't that ambition?"
Wenger didn't answer.
How could he?
Was he supposed to say Henry had already given enough?
Dein stepped in, sensing the tension.
"Let's present the offer and see what Henry says."
He smoothly steered the topic toward squad needs.
"We're 8th in the league. The fans are furious."
Wenger wanted to say, "So am I."
But what could he do?
"I've done all I can with this squad. We need reinforcements."
Dein understood.
"Where do you need help?"
"Left-back, winger, and striker."
"Any targets?"
"No one specific yet for left-back. Cole and Clichy are still out indefinitely. I have no one usable there right now."
Dein nodded.
"The winter window is tricky. Top players rarely move. And there's also the European competition rule."
Back then, UEFA restricted players from appearing in continental competitions for more than one club per season.
Calls for reform were growing, but nothing had changed yet.
"They can still play in the league," Wenger pointed out.
Dein knew where this was going.
Wenger had asked him about Franck Ribéry many times already.
"But we can't spend big on someone who's ineligible for Europe," Dein said firmly.
"Maybe we revisit this in the summer."
Wenger sighed.
"You know how poor Ljungberg was against Chelsea. He's not the same player anymore."
Ljungberg had once been Wenger's golden boy.
But this season? He was a shadow of himself.
Wenger had a plan.
Pires was aging. His contract expired next summer, and the club had no intention of extending it.
So they'd need a new left winger soon.
If they didn't sign a right winger now, they'd be forced to sign two wide men in the summer—and that would stretch Arsenal's budget thin.
Wenger wasn't stupid.
With a background in economics, he understood how to manage upward.
"As for a striker, I've got a name—Adebayor from Monaco. He's affordable."
Yes, he had already played in the UEFA Cup, so he couldn't play in the Champions League.
Wenger didn't care.
"But for the winger, I still hope to bring in Ribéry. That would not only strengthen us—but weaken our rivals in West London."
Dein and Hill-Wood exchanged another look.
After their grueling run of fixtures, Bayswater Chinese FC had proven their strength.
No one expected them to be sitting third in the league at this point.
Their young coach, Yang Cheng, was universally acknowledged as the architect.
And Ribéry?
He was his go-to weapon.
Arguably the best winger in the Premier League this season.
Better than Robben.
Better than Ronaldo.
"That might be beyond our reach," Dein said quietly.
But the idea of weakening Bayswater was tempting.
And bolstering Arsenal at the same time?
That was hard to ignore.
Ideally, Arsenal wouldn't sign anyone in January.
Aside from the two obvious challenges:
UEFA registration rulesPlayer adaptation
There was a third: risk.
Winter signings had no pre-season to integrate.
The margin for error was small.
But if the player was from the same league, same city, and already familiar?
That was different.
That… might work.
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