The Greatest Manager of All time

"Long live Swansea!"

"Long live Swansea!"

"Long live Swansea!"

The moment the referee blew the final whistle for Swansea's match against Blackpool, the Liberty Stadium echoed with the unified roar of the fans.

Every face in the stands was lit with excitement and joy, while Blackpool's players slipped quickly into the tunnel with their heads down, looking utterly defeated. For them, this match had been a nightmare.

Their ticket to the promotion play-offs was gone, and they had lost the match by a humiliating scoreline on top of that.

After shaking Lynn's hand, Simon Grayson left in a hurry. Lynn turned around and hugged every member of his coaching staff, saying beside each person's ear, "We achieved our goal together! You were brilliant!"

He did not hold back his praise, not for the coaches and certainly not for the players.

The Liberty Stadium had become an ocean of celebration.

Soon, the league trophy ceremony was held in the center of the pitch. Since it was only the Third Division title, the ceremony itself was very simple.

As the trophy was passed into the hands of every player, supporters' representative Richard Cork led the fans down from the stands. With the help of Swansea's stadium staff, the pitch was quickly transformed into an entirely new party venue.

Long tables were filled with food and drinks. Fred Davis walked onto the podium, stood before the microphone, and said, "Sorry, everyone, please quiet down for a moment. It is my honor to speak here today on behalf of the supporters."

Swansea's coaches and players stood in front of the podium, while more than five hundred fans formed a circle around them. Men, women, old, young—everyone stood together in a warm, joyful atmosphere.

Davis suddenly pointed at Lynn and said, "We owe him an apology. Yes, we owe him that. A year ago, we doubted him, protested against him, and some people even lost control and insulted him. We were wrong. We have known that for a long time, but none of us ever stood up and said sorry to him.

"He is a generous owner, an ambitious and capable manager. Yes, he is Chinese, but he has made Swansea stronger and better. Almost every week, he has given us honor, pride, and happiness through this club. When I think back to how we treated him at the beginning, I feel deeply ashamed.

"So today, right here, on behalf of every Swansea supporter, I want to sincerely say this to Swansea's owner and manager, Mr. Lynn: I'm sorry! We are truly sorry! Please forgive us. You are a friend worthy of our trust!"

The supporters around them spoke together, sincere and unified.

"We're sorry!"

Lynn stood among the players and coaches, with Villa on his left and Hughes on his right.

All of them looked at him.

Originally, Lynn thought he could face all of this calmly.

But when he heard Davis say those words to him, when he heard hundreds of supporters apologizing to him in one voice, something inside him suddenly gave way. It was as though the strongest layer of armor around him had been stripped off, leaving his heart unbearably soft and fragile.

He lowered his head and lifted a hand to wipe away the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

He did not dare open them, afraid that even more tears would spill out.

He knew this was not good. He should have been strong, fearless, sharp, and forceful. He should have stood like an unshakable mountain, burned like an eternal sun, warming his own people while scorching his enemies. He should have...

But in the end, he was still human.

From the moment he had been struck down and humiliated a year ago, no one—no one—had ever apologized to him.

The grievance buried in his heart had to be perfectly hidden. He could not show even the slightest weakness. He could go mad, but he could never expose the wound, because doing so would only give malicious people another chance to hurt him.

Did he want revenge?

Maybe he did.

But what he truly wanted was not just basic respect.

It was one simple sentence.

"I'm sorry."

No one had given it to him.

Only his supporters.

At this moment, they shattered every layer of his hardened exterior and exposed the real Lynn before everyone.

No one laughed at him for lowering his head and wiping away his tears. Instead, a sound gradually rose around him.

"Lynn! Lynn! Lynn! Lynn!"

Amid the supporters' unified chanting, like an anthem of encouragement, Lynn raised his head.

He smiled.

Then he lifted both hands above his head and applauded, turning to acknowledge the fans in every direction.

Their actions made him feel that everything he had given had been returned to him, and from this moment on, the distance between him and the supporters had grown even closer.

Then all of it had been worth it.

Villa kept patting Lynn's back, as though encouraging a close friend. Hughes smiled with relief. As Lynn's assistant, he might have understood better than anyone else at the club how much Lynn had given for Swansea.

When the players trained, Lynn worked. When the players went home, Lynn studied opponents and discussed work with the coaches. Some players rotated or missed matches through suspension, but Lynn—apart from the period when he himself had been suspended—had never missed a match.

His effort was always more than others could imagine.

More and more.

After Lynn raised his hand to signal for the supporters to stop chanting his name, the scene gradually quieted again.

At that moment, Swansea's players all stood tall and proud. Seeing the supporters embrace their manager in such a way filled them with shared honor.

In their minds, Lynn was a workaholic.

A very cool workaholic.

He was also reasonable. When it was time to be serious, no one was more serious than him. When it was time to relax, he was not rigid or stubborn either.

Fred Davis lifted the microphone again, pointed toward Swansea's players, and said loudly, "We also want to thank every member of Swansea's staff, especially these young men. They crushed every doubt from the outside world. They were unmatched in the Third Division.

"We witnessed each of them arrive, and we watched them grow. Even now, I still remember how nervous they looked at the beginning, the simple mistakes they made, and those awkward moments on the pitch. But they always fought hard and gave everything. That must have come from their tireless training.

"Then they stood tall on the pitch. They became as solid as stone. No opponent could shake them or destroy them. Instead, they overwhelmed their opponents with their strength and carried Swansea to the championship throne.

"Swansea boys, I am proud of you. You have made us proud as well. Thank you. I believe every Swans supporter is looking forward to seeing you charge through the Second Division next season with the same unstoppable force!

"Come on, let's applaud them! Let's cheer for them!"

Lynn had truly never realized that Fred Davis, a schoolteacher, had such a gift for stirring a crowd with a speech. Once again, he lifted the atmosphere to a fever pitch.

The players looked around them. The supporters were cheering and applauding, their faces filled with kindness and pride. Every smile gave the players an even stronger sense of achievement.

At that moment, Lynn put his arm around Villa's shoulders, as though praising him for his brilliant performances across the season.

When the applause slowly faded, Fred Davis spoke into the microphone again. "Now, let the party begin! First, we have supporter Klan performing a song for Swansea's players!"

The atmosphere loosened at once. A supporter around thirty years old walked onto the stage, and as the music began, Klan started singing in a magnetic voice.

The supporters began moving around the pitch, approaching players and coaches in a friendly way to congratulate them or express their admiration.

Lynn's hand almost never came down. Many people lined up to shake his hand, praise his coaching achievements, and apologize again for how they had misunderstood him a year ago.

Onstage, Klan sang one of the adapted songs Swansea fans often sang from the stands.

The song was called "Little John B," one of Britain's most famous football songs. It had been adapted from the Beach Boys' famous Caribbean-style song "Sloop John B."

But the football version had been changed so much that it was already difficult to hear much similarity between the two songs.

The lyrics were often rewritten by supporters to describe certain players, and Swansea fans had copied that tradition from other clubs.

As Klan sang, anyone could tell the lyrics were praising Swansea's players.

"He's one of our own."

"He's mighty because he's Captain Cromwell!"

"He's not great with headers, but he can break through a thousand men!" That line was clearly about Ibrahimović.

"He's no English salon star, he's the knight of the Swans!" That was a jab at the media constantly calling James Cook the Welsh Beckham.

"We have Napoleon from Spain, he storms cities and sweeps away our enemies!" That was a tribute to Villa's outrageous number of goals.

Listening to Klan's passionate, magnetic voice, the party atmosphere inside the stadium stayed wonderful from beginning to end. People took photos together, while BBC Wales' Kath Carter served as the field host, broadcasting Swansea's title celebration live.

The party finally ended at nine o'clock that evening.

After all the supporters had left, Lynn was surprised to discover that, aside from the grass being somewhat damaged from so many people walking over it, there was not a single piece of rubbish left in the stadium.

The supporters had consciously gathered up all their trash and carried it away in garbage bags before leaving.

Lynn stood at the touchline and smiled.

Clearly, the fans also treated the Liberty Stadium as their own home and cherished it as such.

The players were gone as well. Before leaving, each of them had said to Lynn, "Boss, have a good holiday. See you in July!"

Lynn reminded them to stay safe during the break and maintain some level of exercise.

He did not tell them that, today, the club had already paid out their end-of-season bonuses.

The player with the highest bonus received almost one hundred thousand pounds, while even the others received at least ten thousand pounds.

Lynn walked to the entrance of the players' tunnel, then turned back for one last look. The stadium staff were switching off the lights.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

One light after another went out, and the Liberty Stadium sank into darkness. The clean moonlight spilled across the pitch, making everything seem peaceful and quiet.

Lynn looked at the stadium for a moment longer and murmured to himself, "Goodbye, 2000–2001 season."

Then he turned and walked into the players' tunnel, head high, steps firm. Even though no one could see him, he looked radiant, carrying a confident smile as he said loudly, "Second Division, Swansea are coming!"

...

Lynn went home that night.

When Tang Yue saw him return, she stood up from the sofa in her home clothes and hurriedly wiped her eyes. Lynn noticed that his mother's eyes were red, so he walked over in concern and asked, "Mom, why were you crying?"

Tang Yue looked at her tall son, shook her head, and smiled. "Mom's fine."

Lynn asked seriously, "Mom, tell me. Who wronged you? Even if Dad bullied you, I won't let him off! If it was someone else, I definitely won't let it go!"

Tang Yue laughed and slapped him lightly. "Who talks like that? If your father heard you, he'd probably feel wronged again. No one bullied me. I just saw you crying on television, and it hurt my heart. I also felt a little guilty because I couldn't help you with anything."

Lynn stepped forward and hugged Tang Yue, comforting her. "No. I've always known Mom is my strongest support. I only lost control for a moment today. Don't worry and don't be nervous. I'm fine."

"Mom knows you're fine. Seeing so many people like you and support you also makes me happy. My son is the most amazing."

"Heh, no matter how amazing I am, I'm still Mom's son."

"Yes, you're Mom's son. Son, when are you going to bring Mom a daughter-in-law?"

"Uh... matters of the heart depend on fate. Marriage is a lifelong matter. No one can say for sure."

Lynn did not know whether to laugh or cry. Recently, he had become a little afraid of chatting with Tang Yue, because within a few sentences, the conversation would always somehow turn toward marriage.

It was giving him more and more pressure.

After talking with his mother in the living room for almost an hour, Lynn went upstairs to his room. He took a shower first, then walked into his study.

Wearing only a pair of shorts, with a towel hanging around his neck and water still not fully wiped from his body, Lynn entered the room.

His study had only been rearranged a year ago, after he took over Swansea. Before that, even when he had been studying to become a coach, he had not needed to spend long hours working at a desk. In the middle of all that, the family had also moved from their small Western-style house into this large villa.

On the left wall of the study hung a huge blackboard.

Written across it were densely packed club names.

Manchester United, Arsenal, Liverpool, Tottenham Hotspur, Chelsea, Leeds United, Aston Villa, Newcastle United...

A total of fifty-six clubs.

This was the list once compiled by Fleet Street.

The names of the clubs that had rejected his job applications or humiliated him were all clearly written there.

This was not a revenge list.

Of course, for clubs that had humiliated him, Lynn would face them with revenge in his heart.

But for clubs like Manchester United and Arsenal, who had simply rejected his job application—a perfectly normal thing—Lynn did not bear hatred.

What he had instead was the desire to surpass them.

One day, he would build Swansea into a club that surpassed them.

A club above them.

A club even greater and more outstanding than they were.

Lynn walked to the blackboard on that wall and crossed out several names near the bottom.

Thirteen clubs in total.

Then he turned to the right wall. There was another blackboard hanging there, but this one was blank.

Lynn picked up the chalk and wrote those thirteen club names onto it.

Barnet, Brighton, Hartlepool United, Hull City, Scunthorpe, Cheltenham...

He did not look back at the names he had crossed out.

He remembered every single one of them, and in his mind, images surfaced of how Swansea had defeated those teams this season.

After finishing, Lynn took a can of beer from the fridge and stood before the blackboard with those thirteen names written on it. His gaze was calm as he stared at the board.

Click.

He opened the beer.

His eyes remained fixed on the blackboard as he lifted the can to his lips and drank deeply.