Chapter 739 - 664: The Argentinian Derby

Chapter 739: Chapter 664: The Argentinian Derby

This wasn’t Chen Yu’s first time in the Capital.

But this time, he could clearly feel the football atmosphere.

On the drive from the airport to the city center, billboards along the highway advertised the upcoming match between Guo’an and Pioneer.

Crespo versus Batty and Cannigia.

Once in the city, the outer walls of some buildings were also adorned with posters for the match.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were in Serie A, or even Argentina.

That afternoon, Chen Yu was invited to another meeting with Yuan Weimin and his associates.

Which, of course, involved a meal.

As a result, Guo’an’s General Manager, Yang Zuwu, who was eager to treat Chen Yu, didn’t get his chance to host a meal until noon the following day.

As he put it, since Chen Yu had made the trip, he had to do his part as the local host.

Joining them were the club’s two deputy general managers and the team leader, Wei Kexing.

This wasn’t the first time the two had met. Chen Yu had seen him several times during previous visits to the Capital and had even inspected his club.

Yang Zuwu was a true native of the Capital.

He wasn’t young, either—already fifty-eight this year. His entire life was inextricably linked with Guo’an, the Capital Team.

He started playing for the Capital Team as a child. In ’92, when football first turned professional, he became Guo’an’s deputy general manager.

With his deep experience, extensive network, and no-nonsense attitude, people in the business had nicknamed him Uncle Yang.

Today, Uncle Yang was clearly in high spirits. After a few drinks, his square face was already flushed. "Dr. Chen," he said, "that play of yours really opened our eyes."

He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Do you know how much we made from ticket sales for this one match?"

Chen Yu shook his head.

Guo’an’s home field is the Worker’s Stadium. It’s billed as an 80,000-seat venue, but in reality, it only holds a little over 70,000.

Later, to host the Asian Games, a cauldron was built on the north side, and the capacity changed to just over 60,000.

Add to that the league regulation that home stadiums can’t be filled to capacity, and the theoretical maximum attendance was just over 45,000.

But rules can be bent, can’t they?

So this time, just like with Real Madrid’s China tour in ’03, they put the tickets for the otherwise empty seats up for sale, simply reinforcing security and fire safety measures.

He proudly held up one finger.

"This much!"

His eyes widened, full of self-satisfaction.

Real Madrid’s China tour in ’03 was just as much of a spectacle. It filled the Worker’s Stadium, and ticket sales went through the roof.

But what did that have to do with Guo’an? The organizing committee pocketed all that money.

But this time was different. This was real, hard cash for the club.

A full ten million! On an investment of 500,000 euros, we’ve already made back twice that amount.

After deducting promotional costs, Yang Zuwu did a preliminary calculation. He estimated that they’d be left with over ten million on the books.

This kind of money was what they usually made from ticket sales over an entire season.

Chen Yu raised an eyebrow. "Your tickets weren’t cheap, then."

That’s an average of 160 yuan a ticket.

’If I remember correctly, Guo’an’s cheapest tickets are usually 50 yuan, aren’t they?’

’They must have raised the prices for this match.’

Yang Zuwu chuckled, and, emboldened by the alcohol, said, "Dr. Chen, I won’t hide it from you. We raised the prices on some tickets, but the main thing was, we released them in batches, promoted it heavily in advance, and worked with... those guys. Between one thing and another, we managed to drive up the price."

He gestured vaguely with his hand, giving Chen Yu a knowing look.

’So the team itself was scalping tickets,’ Chen Yu thought with a private smile.

’Good thing no outsiders are here. If word got out, he’d be in huge trouble.’

’But Crespo is only playing two games. It’s understandable that Yang Zuwu would do this.’

"Making a profit is the goal," Chen Yu said, raising his glass.

’The spending power in the Capital should be higher than in Guang City.’

’It’s not like people have to buy expensive tickets every day. This is a one-time event; miss it and it’s gone.’

"Exactly! To making money!" Yang Zuwu said with a broad smile, clinking his glass against Chen Yu’s.

With this injection of income, the books would look much better this year.

He had been dismissed once before, back in ’02. The official reason was the team’s poor record, but at the end of the day, wasn’t it just because the books looked bad? The club was losing money.

In ’03, he made a comeback, determined to make changes. But prying money from the fans’ pockets was no easy task.

That was why Guo’an couldn’t hold onto its talent. During those years, to make the revenue numbers look better, he’d had to hold his nose and sell off national team players, one after another, as soon as they were developed.

And what did the fans call him? A human trafficker!

This year, he finally felt he had something solid to report to the board.

’Never mind our record. I made you money—are you happy or not?’

"Dr. Chen, I read your interview. There was one line in there I really identified with: ’First, you have to survive. Only once you’re thriving do you earn the right to think about things like your record.’"

’The fans and the board all want results, but getting results costs money!’

’It’s easy for them to talk, but I’m the one who has to swallow his pride and beg for every penny.’

"So, could you talk to Crespo again and see if it’s possible to extend his contract until the end of the season?" Yang Zuwu said.

Wei Kexing, who was beside him, also nodded in agreement.

Last week, Crespo had joined the team for training sessions.

Forget about ticket sales for a moment—his skill alone proved he was worthy of his title as a world-class striker.

He was on a completely different level from the domestic players.

You really just had to get the ball to him in front of the goal and then sit back and watch the show.

If they could actually keep him until the end of the season, they might even be able to make a run at the title.

"I’m afraid that won’t be possible," Chen Yu refused with a smile.

Crespo wasn’t like Yela, who was on the verge of retirement and didn’t mind playing out the season.

Crespo was still young and in his prime; he couldn’t just waste away in the Chinese Super League.

Besides, Mourinho had already called Chen Yu and told him straight up that negotiations between Chelsea and AC Milan for Crespo’s transfer fee weren’t going well. The deal was likely off, which meant Crespo would be returning to the Premier League next season.

Mourinho still had plans for him.

Therefore, Crespo had to report back to his team in August.

The contract for these two matches was already signed, so fine. But after this, Mourinho would not allow Crespo to play in the Chinese Super League under any circumstances.

His skills declining or him getting "assimilated" was a secondary concern. The main fear was an injury—that would be a huge loss for Chelsea.

Even for these two games, Mourinho had repeatedly instructed Chen Yu to have him take it easy. It was just about selling tickets, after all. He wanted Chen Yu to do everything possible to ensure Crespo stayed healthy.

"That’s a real pity."

Yang Zuwu understood Chen Yu. He knew that if Chen Yu said no, he meant it. There was no room for bargaining.

He quickly recovered and raised his glass. "Dr. Chen, let’s toast to this match finishing smoothly, without any incidents."

Selling out the tickets was already a success. The crucial part now was that with the 60,000-seat stadium filled to the brim, the pressure on security was immense.

He was just worried that with so many fans, some kind of incident might occur.

The Football Association had been ambiguous, tacitly permitting what the clubs were doing. But two days ago, Yan Shiduo had called him personally. He’d said that making money was fine—the Football Association also wanted the Chinese Super League to be profitable—but this was the Capital. If any incidents occurred, Yang Zuwu had better weigh the consequences himself.

But again, the tickets were sold. The arrow was already nocked; it had to be fired.

"To a smooth event!"

Chen Yu smiled and clinked glasses with him.