The Greatest Manager of All time

The Christmas fixture congestion in English football began on Boxing Day.

From December 26 to January 6, Swansea had to play four League Two matches in just eleven days.

The weight of that schedule was almost hard to imagine.

The second match of the brutal run would be played on the 28th.

Because of that, the FA moved quickly with its investigation into the post-match brawl at Ninian Park, and by the morning of the 28th, the punishment notice had already been issued.

When Lynn received the FA's faxed penalty notice at the club, he read through it carefully.

Aside from a number of warnings, the actual punishment surprised him.

First came the points deductions.

Because the brawl had caused such a terrible public impact, both clubs were punished.

Cardiff City were deducted nine points, while Swansea were deducted six.

Then came the fines.

Cardiff City were hit with a heavy £100,000 fine.

Swansea were fined £30,000.

Next came the managerial bans.

Cardiff City manager Alan Cork was banned for ten matches.

Swansea manager Lynn was banned for five.

After that, Ninian Park would have sections of its stands closed for Cardiff's next two home matchdays.

As for player suspensions, Gareth Varein had been the first to clash with Friedrich outside the players' tunnel, and both men were banned for five matches.

Ibrahimović's elbow during the match earned him another two-match extension from the FA on top of the two-match suspension for his straight red card, making it four matches in total.

Ibrahimović had gone on holiday!

Ibrahimović had gone on holiday!!

That did not affect Swansea's team selection in the slightest.

Only Friedrich's suspension gave Lynn a bit of a headache.

After reading the punishment notice, Lynn had the club's finance staff pay the £30,000 fine to the FA.

As for his own five-match touchline ban, he had already been prepared for it.

The lower the level of the league, the heavier the FA's punishments tended to be.

After all, they could not organize the same level of manpower and supervision as they could in the top flight. To put it bluntly, the FA managed by punishment.

Anyone who dared cause trouble would be fined until they cried.

Although Swansea's newly won halfway-title in the league had been handed over to Brighton after the six-point deduction, Lynn was not worried at all.

Given Swansea's form, going from three points ahead of Brighton to three points behind was something they could completely recover from in the second half of the season.

Cardiff City, however, were in a miserable state.

After being docked nine points, they dropped straight to fifth in the table, allowing Chesterfield, who had also suffered a points deduction but for financial reasons, to snatch third place in the league.

What surprised Lynn about the punishment was that he had originally assumed Swansea would be the side hit hardest.

He had not expected Mo Yuan's efforts to turn the outcome into a disaster for Cardiff City instead.

When Cardiff City CEO Alan Lang saw the FA's fax, he almost spat blood from anger.

He had been waiting to watch Swansea suffer, only for Cardiff City to be hammered instead!

When he tried to contact his friends at the FA again, the message someone passed to him was simple: the decision of the FA Executive Committee could not be shaken.

Alan Lang's first thought was that Mo Yuan had found an even stronger backer inside the FA!

He had been played for an entire day.

From their chance meeting on the plane to eating and chatting together afterward, he had been acting the whole time, but Mo Yuan had not only been acting as well—he had also been watching him perform.

Alan Lang had been like a clown prancing around in front of Mo Yuan.

...

On the evening of the 28th, Lynn appeared in the VIP box at Liberty Stadium.

There was still a bandage wrapped around his head, and seated beside him were two men in suits.

One had a full head of silver hair and looked to be over fifty. The other was a young man, neatly dressed and full of energy.

The older man was named George Gates, and the younger man was Lewis Baker.

Both were from a long-established British department store. Gates was a member of the board, while Baker was the CEO of the company's Welsh division.

The atmosphere in the stands at Liberty Stadium was especially fierce.

After the fiery Welsh derby in the previous match, the bond between the fans and the club had risen to another level. The supporters now backed Lynn from the bottom of their hearts.

Across all four stands, banners supporting Lynn and opposing the FA could be seen everywhere.

Welsh fans naturally had no fondness for the FA. As for the points deduction, they took it even more seriously than Lynn did.

The sight of Lynn being injured in the line of duty had only earned him even more support from the supporters.

Seeing the spectacular scene inside Liberty Stadium, Gates turned his head toward Lynn and said, "For someone so young, to win such broad support from the fans in such a short time is truly an impressive achievement."

Lynn smiled and replied, "It's nothing. I'm only doing my job properly."

"That is far too modest."

"Heh."

Today, Swansea had returned home to face Carlisle United.

Friedrich was suspended, Brunel had not yet recovered from injury, and Danny Gabbidon filled in at centre-back alongside Albrechtsen.

Cromwell and James Cook had both fought until they were completely drained in the previous match, so Nielsen and youngster Kahlenberg were paired together as central midfielder and right midfielder.

Pedretti had also been injured in the last match and would need half a month to recover, so Poulsen started as the defensive midfielder.

Up front, Ibrahimović had gone on holiday, Villa was being rested, and Badenberg joined forces with Charisteas to lead the attack.

Assistant manager Emlyn Hughes stood on the touchline to direct the team.

Amid the cheers of the Swansea fans, the match kicked off.

Both sets of players fought hard for every ball.

But because of injuries, suspensions, and the physical toll of playing several matches in quick succession, Swansea did not perform well today.

By half-time, Carlisle United had already scored twice.

During the interval, Lynn did not enter the dressing room, nor did he send anyone to pass on instructions.

An FA official had come specifically to supervise his touchline ban and was seated nearby. Lynn had no intention of trying anything sneaky.

How the match should be played had already been arranged during yesterday's pre-match meeting. Depending on how the match developed, he had also given Emlyn Hughes two plans.

Now it was time to activate the plan for when they were behind.

In the second half, Swansea repeatedly sent high balls toward Charisteas. The Greek centre-forward did not directly threaten Carlisle's goal himself.

Instead, he acted as a target man, setting up shooting opportunities for the second wave of teammates behind him.

Nielsen was lively and pulled one back for Swansea in the second half.

Then, in the final moments of the match, Carlisle United voluntarily dropped deeper, trying to defend their 2–1 lead.

What they did not expect was that once they weakened their own attacking threat, Swansea threw everyone forward and launched a furious assault.

In the chaos inside the penalty area, Robert Badenberg completed the finish.

A stoppage-time equalizer!

The match ended, and Carlisle United left with regret, having failed to secure an away win.

Swansea, meanwhile, relied on second-half goals from Nielsen and Badenberg to snatch a tense draw at home.

After the match ended, Lynn walked into the dressing room.

He did not criticize the players. Instead, he showed understanding and told them to go home and rest as soon as possible.

Another match was waiting for them in a few days.

As soon as Lynn walked out of the dressing room, he saw Mo Yuan standing in the corridor.

Lynn smiled at him and said, "I haven't had the chance to say it yet. Your London trip went pretty well. The result was much better than I expected."

Mo Yuan smiled and brushed it off.

Walking side by side with Lynn, he asked, "Where are those two guests from John Lewis?"

Lynn said, "No idea. After the match, we shook hands and went our separate ways."

"They didn't come to discuss sponsorship with us?"

"Of course not. They still don't think we're worth that yet. Besides, their business approach leans more toward player endorsements rather than promoting themselves through clubs. We can't give them what they want. Their real targets are our players."

"Who?"

"I didn't ask. That's a matter between the players and the sponsor anyway. In any case, I don't believe they came here purely to watch a football match."

Mo Yuan fell into thought after hearing that.

Then he said, "I think we'll soon be able to finalize a few sponsorship contracts. The income won't be much, but either way, we need sponsors to see the potential in us."

Lynn nodded in agreement.

"That approach is fine. We may believe our brand should be worth a lot, but first, the market has to recognize it. You handle that side of things. No need to discuss everything with me. I'll leave it all to you."

Mo Yuan laughed. "Aren't you afraid I'll mess it up?"

"Oh, come on. You make it sound like some massive deal. Forget it. Even if you fool around blindly, it'll only be small-scale stuff."

"Fine, then I'll cut loose and show what I can do."

"As long as you enjoy yourself."

"Dinner together tonight? Then karaoke?"

"No. Today, the Retired Emperor and Empress Dowager of my house have returned in triumph. I have to go home and pay my respects."

"Oh? So you've ascended from crown prince to emperor?"

"Of course."

"But the Retired Emperor and Empress Dowager are still ruling from behind the curtain?"

"That's right."

"Then what's the difference from before?"

"There is one. The Retired Emperor and Empress Dowager are in a hurry for an imperial grandson."

"Then work hard!"

...

Lynn's guess was right.

George Gates and Lewis Baker had not come to Liberty Stadium by coincidence.

It was just that they had been somewhat disappointed by the match, because they had not seen the people they wanted to see.

Cromwell and James Cook.

The two local Welsh youngsters had shone brightly at Swansea over the first half of the season.

James Cook was praised as the Welsh Beckham.

From his handsome looks to his position on the pitch and even his style of play, James Cook was extremely similar to Beckham.

Cromwell, meanwhile, looked every inch the young leader. On the pitch, he was always the one fighting the hardest.

On top of that, he was also handsome, and during the few media interviews he had given, he had come across as sunny and cheerful.

He and Cook had already become idols for many local fans.

Especially among young people.

Boys envied them, while girls admired them.

The size of their fanbases was growing rapidly.

Gates and Baker first went to Cromwell's home.

Oliver Cromwell lived near the Swansea Institute of Industry. South of there lay the area around Mansel Street, which was also his main territory.

Over many years of hard work, he had built up a glorious reputation there: the Athletic Prince of Mansel Street.

As for himself, he had personally claimed the title of Swansea's Athletic Emperor.

Lewis Baker drove a Foden saloon with a strong sense of old-fashioned British style, while Gates sat in the back seat, looking out through the window at the neighborhood.

Baker drove very slowly.

While searching for the house number of the Cromwell family home, he glanced at the doorplates and said to Gates, "I heard his parents aren't at home. Will we get any results by visiting like this?"

Gates looked like a kindly old gentleman, but his eyes were clear and carried a hint of wisdom and shrewdness.

He smiled and said, "If Cromwell is the same Cromwell others have described to me, then we will get a result. Either he refuses us, or we settle things directly. He's a child with a strong mind of his own. His parents have been away from home for long periods, yet he hasn't gone astray. Instead, he has become a brave warrior on the pitch."

"I hope so."

Lewis Baker was not optimistic.

He always felt that Cromwell, who was not yet eighteen, would still be a child unable to fully grasp responsibility.

Cromwell came from a middle-class family.

His parents were rather unusual. One was a geologist, the other an archaeologist, and both often traveled for work, leaving their children at home.

Cromwell was not an only child. He also had an academically gifted older sister, Jennifer Cromwell.

At that very moment, inside Jennifer Cromwell's room, the top student with large black-framed glasses and long blonde hair was absolutely crushing her younger brother.

Cromwell sat opposite his sister, with computers placed in front of both of them.

They were playing Warcraft against each other, and Cromwell was nearly being bullied to tears.

"Ahaha! Oliver, hurry up and kneel before your great elder sister and beg for mercy! Swansea's Athletic Emperor, get down on your knees!"

After winning three games in a row, Jennifer raised both fists joyfully and leaned forward with a teasing smile, looking at Oliver, whose scalp was almost ready to explode.

Oliver Cromwell slammed his mouse down and snapped in frustration, "I basically haven't played computer games at all in the last six months. Can you stop being so shameless? Every time you come home, you make me play computer games with you. If you've got the guts, let's play basketball, tennis, football, handball, swimming—oh, and lately I've been learning karate from my teammates too. Come on, pick any of them!"

Jennifer smugly shook her head and laughed. "Nope! I'm your sister. You have to obey me! We play whatever I say we play!"

Oliver Cromwell pointed at her and shouted, "Can you take even a fraction of this shamelessness outside with you? Please, you're already twenty-two! The moment you're outside, you lower your head and get so shy it's like you've wet yourself! Look at you now. You're pretty cute, pretty beautiful, aren't you? So why do you have to grab only me and torture me to death? If this keeps up, you'll drive me insane sooner or later!"

Jennifer's face went red from his words.

At school, she was the kind of person no one paid much attention to. She devoted herself completely to studying, studying, and more studying.

She was not outgoing at all, never joined social activities, and everyone thought she was working hard whenever she sat in front of the computer.

In reality, much of the time, she was playing computer games.

But she had a high IQ.

Perhaps, like Oliver Cromwell, she had inherited that from their highly intelligent parents. So even though she was an academic star, she never found studying difficult.

"None of your business! Anyway, you lost to me today. Go. Wash my clothes."

Oliver Cromwell shouted, "Good God! Someone save me!" and ran out of the room.

He had just gone downstairs when he heard the doorbell ring.

He immediately stopped.

Turning back, he looked toward the upstairs room. Jennifer Cromwell poked her head out with a questioning expression, then pointed toward the front door of the living room, signaling for Oliver to open it while she secretly watched from there to see who had come.

Oliver Cromwell gave her a look of contempt.

This older sister of his shrank back the moment she saw outsiders, but at home she acted like a tyrant.

Even so, his steps down the stairs were quick, and there was an obvious smile on his face.

Hopefully, it was James Cook or some other friend looking for him!

But when he reached the door, he realized it was already almost 10:30 at night.

Who would come knocking at this hour?

Before opening the door, he picked up the baseball bat beside it.

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