Football: I am the coach of Atlético de Madrid.

Chapter 1

April 8, 2000. South of Madrid, the capital of Spain.

On the northern bank of the Manzanares River, adjacent to the M30 highway, Yang Hao stepped out of a taxi. As he turned his head, he saw the majestic Calderón Stadium straddling the roadway.

Each day, endless streams of traffic passed through the tunnel beneath this colossal structure. Anyone looking up, as Yang Hao was now, would see the massive, bronze-colored crest of Atlético Madrid emblazoned overhead.

Years ago, when Atlético Madrid was riding high, the crest exuded an ever-growing aura of prestige and authority. But in recent years, especially now, the emblem more often evoked a sense of decline and decay.

Such is the fate of a team lingering in the relegation zone.

Standing at the intersection, Yang Hao gazed at the Atlético crest above the tunnel entrance, a flicker of excitement stirring in his heart. He straightened his suit, tightened his grip on the briefcase in his hand, and walked toward the doors of Calderón Stadium's administrative offices.

Today, he was here to interview for the position of Atlético Madrid's head coach.

Yang Hao could never have imagined that something as implausible as time travel would happen to him.

In his previous life, he was a little-known, struggling author on the Chinese online literature platform Qidian, churning out football novels for over a decade with minimal success.

One day, on a whim, he decided to write a novel about saving Chinese football. Unsurprisingly, it flopped spectacularly.

Even the dragon god of Namek couldn't fulfill such an impossible wish; how could an ordinary man dare to dream of it?

When he finally decided to abandon the project, he slapped himself several times out of frustration, even considering a dramatic vow of self-punishment.

In a gloomy mood, Yang Hao went for a stroll in the park to clear his head. Sitting on the stone railing of a pavilion over the lake, he began brainstorming ideas for his next book. But by some inexplicable twist of fate, he accidentally fell into the water.

In that moment, as he struggled and flailed, he swore repeatedly in his mind:

"I'll never slack off on my writing again!"

"I'll focus on my craft, work hard for votes, favorites, reader engagement, subscriptions—anything!"

"Help! I can't swim!"

Apparently, fate favored repentant and handsome men like him because he was rescued in time.

But when he emerged from the water, it was already the year 2000, and he found himself in Madrid, Spain.

Yang Hao couldn't help but wonder: was this punishment for his attempt to write about Chinese football?

As a seasoned reader and writer of countless time-travel novels, Yang Hao quickly confirmed that he'd hit the time-travel lottery. The first thing he did was search for the proverbial "time-traveler's gift"—the "golden finger."

But after waiting and hoping, he was sorely disappointed. He had flopped as a writer, and now he was flopping as a time traveler, too.

A time traveler without a cheat-like advantage was like a novel that bombed before its first round of recommendations.

But what could he do? He was here now, and there was no turning back.

Fortunately, Yang Hao discovered that his new identity in this world wasn't too bad. He held a license to coach in top-tier leagues and was fluent in both English and Spanish.

This gave him an almost irresistible urge to poke fun at certain Barcelona staff members.

Kindred spirits, indeed.

Once he adjusted to his new identity as a time traveler, Yang Hao set his sights on a grand plan: becoming a football coach.

As a lifelong football fan and a writer of football novels for over a decade, Yang Hao had an encyclopedic knowledge of the sport's past and near future. Now armed with a coaching license, what profession could suit him better than coaching?

Madrid in the year 2000 was a city of turmoil.

Real Madrid was performing poorly, and head coach John Toshack had been dismissed due to the team's struggles. Reserve team coach Vicente del Bosque stepped up for his third stint as caretaker manager. With the league title out of reach, Del Bosque was tasked with leading this debt-ridden and beleaguered giant through the remainder of the season.

At this point, Real Madrid's hopes rested solely on the UEFA Champions League and the Copa del Rey.

The club's massive debt, amounting to hundreds of millions of euros, made its president, Lorenzo Sanz, a target of criticism. His rival, Florentino Pérez—a wealthy and influential businessman—was determined to unseat him in the summer's presidential election.

Pérez's campaign slogan was audacious: "Pay off the debt and bring in a world-class superstar—Barcelona's crown jewel, Luís Figo!"

To most people, this seemed like an insane, impossible promise.

But as a time traveler, Yang Hao knew this script all too well.

Seizing the opportunity, he managed to infiltrate a pro-Florentino fan group established for the election campaign.

Using his years of experience analyzing football for his novels, along with his knowledge of future events, Yang Hao quickly distinguished himself in the group. His steadfast support for Del Bosque's leadership and his detailed tactical insights into Real Madrid's matches earned him recognition.

Eventually, he caught Florentino's attention and had the opportunity to speak with him directly. Yang Hao tactfully pointed out the potential pitfalls of the "galáctico strategy" and presented a detailed proposal for improvements.

Unfortunately, Florentino dismissed him as a loudmouth seeking attention.

At that moment, Florentino was brimming with confidence in his grand vision and was unwilling to entertain any dissenting opinions. Not only did he ignore Yang Hao's warnings, but he also expelled him from the fan group for not being a Real Madrid club member—a reason that was as flimsy as it was convenient.

When one door closes, another opens.

Having been shut out by Florentino, Yang Hao found himself in a Madrid bar, where he encountered a despondent Miguel Ángel Gil Marín, the 37-year-old general manager of Atlético Madrid, nicknamed "Little Gil."

Yang Hao's casual criticism of Florentino—predicting Real Madrid's eventual downfall due to the galáctico strategy—struck a chord with the tipsy Little Gil, who invited him for drinks.

Through this chance encounter, the two became acquainted.

When Little Gil learned of Yang Hao's involvement with Florentino and heard his analysis of Real Madrid's issues, he was deeply impressed. He then asked Yang Hao for his thoughts on Atlético Madrid.

At that time, Atlético Madrid's situation was far grimmer than Real Madrid's.

Despite their talent-laden roster, financial woes and poor management had dragged them into the relegation zone. Head coach Claudio Ranieri had resigned in early March, and the club brought back former coach Radomir Antić for his third stint in charge.

However, Yang Hao was unequivocal in his assessment:

"Antić won't save Atlético. On the contrary, he'll drag them deeper into the abyss of relegation!"

His words would prove prophetic as Atlético continued to flounder under Antić's leadership, inching closer to what many would later call "the most absurd joke of the century"—a relegation despite boasting one of the strongest squads in La Liga.

It was in this context that Little Gil invited Yang Hao to the Calderón for an interview, placing his faith in the young man's bold vision.

Standing before Atlético's leadership, Yang Hao made a confident promise:

"Only I can save Atlético from relegation and turn this club into the strongest team in Spain and Europe within a few years!"

This Season, Atlético Madrid's Struggles Far Outweigh Real Madrid's

While Real Madrid's poor performance once saw them drop to around 10th place in the standings, their strong foundation allowed them to bounce back. Now, they were fighting for a Champions League spot for the next season.

More importantly, under Del Bosque's leadership, Real Madrid was delivering stellar performances in the Champions League, advancing round after round.

Atlético Madrid, however, was a different story entirely.

Under the management of Claudio Ranieri, the Italian "Tinker Man," Atlético's performance this season had been abysmal. Matters worsened in late December when club president Jesús Gil was arrested, and the club's €70 million debt was exposed, forcing the government to take over Atlético Madrid.

Vice president Enrique Cerezo and general manager Miguel Gil were both suspended from their roles.

During the winter break, under the temporary management of Luis Rubí Blanco, measures were taken to alleviate the club's financial crisis. Spain's "Golden Boy" José Mari was sold to Italian giants AC Milan for €19 million, followed by Argentine center-back José Chamot for €3 million, also to Milan.

These two deals brought in €22 million, but the team's overall strength suffered. The interim management team faced relentless criticism from Spanish media, while Atlético's fans held protests and marches to oppose their decisions.

Although Ranieri refrained from publicly agreeing with the media or fans, the team's performance continued to deteriorate, eventually slipping into the relegation zone. By March 3, Ranieri submitted his resignation, and the interim management team appointed former coach Radomir Antić as caretaker manager.

Just like Del Bosque's repeated returns to Real Madrid, this was Antić's third stint at Atlético Madrid.

But unlike the praise that Del Bosque received, Yang Hao was unflinching in his criticism of Antić:

"Antić will not save Atlético. On the contrary, he'll lead them deeper into the abyss of relegation!"

"No matter how many years pass, people will look back on this season's Atlético Madrid with disbelief and bewilderment. With a squad like theirs, relegation should have been unthinkable."

Who did Atlético Madrid have in their lineup this season?

They boasted Spanish star Kiko, Dutch goal-scoring sensation Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink, Spanish midfield prodigy Juan Carlos Valerón, Brazilian playmaker Juninho Paulista (on loan at Middlesbrough), Argentine winger Santiago Solari, Portuguese midfield talent Hugo Leal, Uruguayan midfielder Pablo García, Spanish midfielder Rubén Baraja, homegrown left-back Joan Capdevila, and goalkeeper José Molina.

Not to mention their other solid core players: Toni Muñoz, Santi, José Luis Caminero, Gamarra, Celso Ayala, Gaspar, and Aguilera.

From any perspective, this Atlético squad was brimming with talent—an undeniable contender for a top-three finish or even the league title. Yet their shocking performances had them facing relegation.

Even in 2023, many would still struggle to understand how this Atlético Madrid team managed to get relegated.

Criticism was widespread. Some blamed Ranieri for his poor coaching, while others pointed to Jesús Gil's arrest as a significant destabilizing factor. Others highlighted the club's financial crisis.

But Yang Hao told Miguel Gil, "These are just this season's issues. Atlético Madrid has had a deeply rooted, critical problem for years. That's the real killer."

"If this problem isn't resolved, no one can save Atlético—not even Antić, who once brought the club a double."

And Yang Hao was proven right.

From La Liga's 27th round onward, Atlético Madrid showed no improvement under Antić's leadership.

1-1 draw with Real Betis.

0-1 loss to Valladolid.

1-1 draw at home against Real Madrid.

0-3 loss to Numancia.

1-2 loss to Athletic Bilbao.

Then came last night—La Liga's 32nd round. A humiliating 1-4 defeat to Deportivo La Coruña on the road.

Under Antić's management, Atlético not only failed to climb out of the relegation zone but sank even deeper.

Now ranked 19th in La Liga, they were just one spot above bottom-placed Sevilla. Worse yet, they were 4 points behind 17th-placed Real Betis, coached by Guus Hiddink.

With only six matches left, avoiding relegation seemed almost impossible.

Across Spain, throughout Europe, and among football fans worldwide, the consensus was clear: Atlético Madrid's relegation was inevitable.

Even Atlético's fans began to accept this grim reality. After the loss to Deportivo, they organized a massive protest march, pressuring the government to relent. Ultimately, the government had to suspend its takeover of the club, reinstating Jesús Gil, Enrique Cerezo, and Miguel Gil.

It was evident that neither the government nor the interim management team wanted to shoulder the blame for Atlético Madrid's relegation.

To have so many stars in the squad, only to be relegated—this would go down as one of the most absurd jokes in the history of the four major European leagues.

A Desperate Call for Help

As soon as the Gil family returned to the Calderón Stadium, Miguel Gil immediately proposed a change in management.

Having spent the past few months in discussions and deep conversations with Yang Hao, Miguel Gil had grown to trust him implicitly.

He was convinced that if anyone could save Atlético Madrid, it was Yang Hao.

Thus, the day after their crushing defeat to Deportivo, Yang Hao stepped into the Calderón Stadium to face Jesús Gil, Enrique Cerezo, and Miguel Gil.

The elder Gil and Cerezo were visibly shocked by Yang Hao's youth, but the young man spoke with conviction as he made his bold promise:

"I'm the only one who can help Atlético avoid relegation and turn this club into the strongest team in Spain, and even Europe, within a few years!"

"Only I can save Atlético from relegation and, in the coming years, turn it into the strongest team in Spain, and even Europe!"

When Yang Hao's powerful declaration echoed in the closed meeting room, Jesús Gil couldn't hold back. The older Gil burst out laughing on the spot.

Despite being 67 years old, overweight, and currently facing multiple lawsuits from the government, Jesús Gil was full of energy, showing no signs of defeat.

And that was to be expected.

He was, after all, a battle-hardened maverick who had emerged unscathed from countless challenges.

In contrast, Miguel Gil, sitting to his side, came across as a hesitant second-generation heir.

"You know, my son has spoken very highly of you," Jesús Gil said, his large body shaking slightly as he chuckled. "He's told me so much about you, even arguing with me over it. That's why I've taken some time to sit here and listen to what you have to say."

Seated with a sense of dominance, Jesús Gil's gaze remained fixed on Yang Hao, his expression carrying both amusement and skepticism.

"But if all you have to offer is this kind of grandstanding nonsense, you're welcome to leave now."

As soon as Jesús Gil finished speaking, Miguel Gil began to look uneasy in his seat.

On the other hand, Enrique Cerezo, the 52-year-old vice president sitting nearby, maintained an unshakable calm, as though the entire discussion had nothing to do with him.

Yang Hao, however, remained unflustered. He had come prepared.

"Have you looked into me?" he asked.

That was good news—it showed that Jesús Gil had seriously considered him.

"There's no need to dig too deep," Jesús Gil replied bluntly. "Your conversations with Florentino in the pro-Florentino fan group were no secret. There were plenty of people present at the time. And I must say, Florentino wasn't wrong—at least, my first impression of you aligns with his."

"And do you know that I told him there's a fatal flaw in his galáctico strategy?" Yang Hao pressed.

"His galáctico strategy?"

Jesús Gil snorted in disdain. "What galáctico strategy? He's just picking up crumbs behind us, copying our leftovers."

As Atlético's president, Jesús Gil certainly had the qualifications and confidence to say such a thing.

The concept of the "galáctico strategy" wasn't new to Spain.

Even before La Liga clubs transitioned away from the membership model, elections for club presidents often centered around promises to sign superstar players. After all, nothing won fans' votes faster than the allure of a major signing.

This practice had been in place since the days of Real Madrid's Santiago Bernabéu era, with legendary acquisitions like Alfredo Di Stéfano, Ferenc Puskás, and Raymond Kopa.

Jesús Gil himself had risen to power with this strategy, signing Portuguese star Paulo Futre and later, Italian striker Christian Vieri for Atlético Madrid.

So yes, he had every right to ridicule Florentino Pérez.

"I believe Florentino's approach is a more radical, high-stakes evolution of the classic galáctico strategy," Yang Hao offered, giving a measured nod to Florentino's ambition.

"Signing Figo from arch-rivals Barcelona?"

"No, it's more than that. It's about signing one superstar every year until every position on the team—right down to the coach—is filled with star power."

Yang Hao's words painted a bold and alluring vision, especially in the context of 2000.

Even Jesús Gil, as much as he wanted to dismiss it, had to admit the appeal of such an audacious plan.

"So, what's the problem with this strategy? Money?"

"No. I believe that as a master of leveraging finances, Florentino has already thought about how to secure the funds. What he's overlooked is time."

"Time?"

This piqued the interest not only of Jesús Gil but also of Enrique Cerezo, who finally leaned in slightly. Florentino's campaign had become the talk of Madrid, Spain, and even Europe.

"Luis Figo was born in November 1972. He's already 27 years old. I believe that Florentino wouldn't dare use Figo as a campaign promise without thorough preparation. In fact, there have been media reports of him meeting with Figo's agent, José Veiga."

Atlético legend Paulo Futre had also been implicated in those reports.

"Let's assume Florentino signs Figo this year. If he adds another superstar next year, Figo will already be 28. What about the year after that? Or the year after that? The idea of one galáctico per year is undeniably enticing, but how much longer can Figo maintain his peak form?"

At that, Jesús Gil and Enrique Cerezo fell silent.

This was a legitimate concern.

The football world in 2000 was vastly different from what it would become a decade later. Most top players of the time were older, as players typically hit their prime after the age of 25. After two years at the top, many were already approaching 27 or 28.

Cases like Michael Owen—who rose to fame at 19 and became a star goal-scorer by 20—were exceedingly rare.

Yang Hao had hit the nail on the head. Even if Florentino managed to sign a galáctico every year, how long could a player like Figo remain in his prime?

"Florentino doesn't want you derailing his plan," Jesús Gil observed, locking eyes with Yang Hao.

"Exactly." Yang Hao nodded with a slight smile.

Whether or not Florentino had considered this flaw before Yang Hao pointed it out, by this point in time, the galáctico strategy was already set in motion. There was no turning back. Florentino would have to follow through with it, no matter the risks, if he wanted to challenge Lorenzo Sanz this summer.

This was why he hadn't listened to Yang Hao and had even gone so far as to expel him from the fan group.

Having figured all this out, Jesús Gil burst into laughter once again, his eyes now carefully studying the young man before him.

Yang Hao was indeed very young—only 25.

If he were a professional player, this would have been the beginning of his prime years.

Instead, he was applying for a position that required not only experience but also a wealth of credentials: head coach.

"Alright, tell me what you've got. I'm curious to hear your analysis of Atlético Madrid," Jesús Gil said, adjusting his seat to make himself more comfortable.

Atlético's Problems Are Deeply Entangled

Atlético Madrid's issues were a complex web of complications.

In his previous life, Yang Hao had extensively studied these problems while writing, coming to the conclusion that the root cause was none other than club president Jesús Gil. His reckless behavior had led to his imprisonment, left the club burdened with debt, and caused severe disarray within the team.

Even renowned managers like Ranieri and Antić were powerless in the face of such turmoil.

However, after having in-depth conversations with Miguel Gil and learning more about the behind-the-scenes intricacies, Yang Hao gained a deeper understanding.

At the center of it all was Jesús Gil himself.

The world knew that Jesús Gil's rise to power was far from clean. His first fortune came from a disastrous construction project that collapsed, resulting in the deaths of 58 people. This happened during the chaotic year of 1968, under the dictatorship of Francisco Franco in Spain.

It was Jesús Gil's first stint in prison.

After his release, instead of showing restraint, he became even more aggressive, growing his real estate empire to greater heights.

When his real estate business reached a certain scale, Jesús Gil set his sights beyond the commercial world.

In 1987, he took control of Atlético Madrid with the ambition of turning the club into a powerhouse that could rival their cross-town nemesis, Real Madrid.

By 1991, the now-famous Jesús Gil sought to use football as a stepping stone into politics. He founded the Independent Liberal Group (Grupo Independiente Liberal, or GIL) and gained a strong following in southern Spain and the North African islands, ultimately becoming mayor of Marbella.

For a time, both Jesús Gil and Atlético Madrid were unstoppable forces.

But trouble followed close behind.

In 1992, due to mounting debts, the Spanish Football Federation mandated a restructuring of La Liga clubs. With the exception of a few clubs like Real Madrid, Barcelona, and Athletic Bilbao, all others were forced to transition from a membership-based model to a shareholder-based structure.

During Atlético Madrid's restructuring, allegations emerged that Jesús Gil and vice president Enrique Cerezo had falsified financial records, using illegal means to privatize the club and turn it into their personal property.

Such tactics were hardly unique in the football world; many clubs' management teams had done similar things throughout history.

However, this became a key weapon for Jesús Gil's political adversaries to attack him.

The immediate reason for Jesús Gil's current imprisonment stemmed from his actions as mayor of Marbella. He had used government funds to sponsor Atlético Madrid's shirt sponsorship—an amount totaling €30 million.

During the club's double-winning season, the shirt sponsor was none other than Marbella.

Coincidentally, this scandal erupted during Marbella's mayoral election. Whether this timing was deliberate or coincidental was hard to say.

In European football, cases like Jesús Gil's weren't uncommon. Examples included Silvio Berlusconi at AC Milan, the Moratti family behind Inter Milan, and Florentino Pérez, who was now vying for the Real Madrid presidency.

For these figures, football clubs often served as platforms for larger ambitions.

As for whether sponsoring Atlético Madrid with Marbella funds was illegal, that was a sensitive topic.

Ironically, Jesús Gil and his allies—including his son Miguel Gil and Enrique Cerezo—used similar tactics to counter the interim management group that had taken over Atlético.

One key point of contention was Atlético's 30th-round away match against Numancia. The interim management, without board approval, spent €140,000 to organize a thousand fans to travel to the game.

In the 31st round, during a home match against Athletic Bilbao, the interim management offered a "buy one, get one free" ticket promotion, again without board approval. This angered season ticket holders.

Most critically, Atlético lost both matches.

Furious fans turned their ire toward the government and the interim management group.

Over the years, Jesús Gil had been known for his willingness to invest in player transfers. Stars like Paulo Futre, Vieri, Simeone, and Hasselbaink were all signed under his direction. If he wanted a player, he didn't hesitate to spend.

The same applied to hiring managers. World-class coaches like Sacchi, Antić, and Ranieri cycled through Atlético's ranks in a carousel of leadership.

These moves made Jesús Gil beloved by Atlético fans.

And in this critical moment, this reputation enabled him to regain control of the club.

But the very reasons behind Atlético's rise were also its undoing.

During Jesús Gil's 13 years at the helm, the club had gone through 23 head coaches and 5 interim managers, signing 145 players.

This constant upheaval meant Atlético never had a stable foundation. There was no coherent team-building strategy. Decisions about which star to sign or which manager to hire were often dictated by Jesús Gil's personal whims.

He dreamed of rivaling Real Madrid and Barcelona with attacking football, but he ignored the fact that Atlético lacked the infrastructure and legacy to support such ambitions.

Many hailed Atlético's 1995/96 double-winning season, but few paid attention to their 14th-place finish in the previous season, just one step away from relegation.

After winning the double, Atlético slipped to 5th place in 1996/97 and 7th in 1997/98, leading to the dismissal of Antić, the coach who had delivered the double.

Last season, under the famed Italian coach Sacchi, Atlético nearly fell into the relegation zone. It was Antić's return in March that saved the team from the drop.

Once the season ended, Antić was sacked again, and Ranieri, who had performed well at Valencia, was brought in.

But this season, Atlético fell straight into the relegation zone, forcing Antić to return yet again.

On paper, Atlético had always looked strong. They never lacked talent or even world-class players.

But on the pitch, their performances were like a rollercoaster—thrilling but heart-stopping.

For years, Atlético Madrid had become a black hole for both top players and managers.

And all roads led back to one person: Jesús Gil.

"If Atlético gets relegated this season, you will be the primary culprit!" Yang Hao declared bluntly.

"How dare you!"

Jesús Gil erupted in fury, slamming his desk with all his might and rising to his feet, his eyes blazing with anger.

His posture was menacing, as though he was ready to devour Yang Hao.

A fierce and ruthless man like Jesús Gil could still command an intimidating presence, even at 67 years old. His furious outburst carried so much weight that it startled Yang Hao, who was in the direct line of fire. Seated nearby, Miguel Gil and Enrique Cerezo grew visibly tense.

Miguel Gil, in particular, looked ready to intervene at any moment, worried that Jesús Gil might resort to violence—a concern not without precedent.

Back in March 1996, at the gates of the Spanish Football Federation, Jesús Gil had engaged in a heated argument with Compostela's general manager. It escalated into a physical altercation, with Jesús Gil throwing punches and kicks. The incident was widely condemned by Spanish media and fans alike, tarnishing Atlético Madrid's image significantly.

But Yang Hao had anticipated this and remained unfazed. With a calm smile, he asked, "Am I wrong?"

His gaze met Jesús Gil's sharp, fiery eyes without flinching. Yang Hao stood his ground, knowing full well that Miguel Gil would step in if needed.

"Here, let me show you some data," Yang Hao said, reaching into his briefcase. He retrieved a document, spread it out on the desk, and slid it toward Jesús Gil.

Even in his rage, Jesús Gil snatched up the papers and began reading.

Yang Hao's document meticulously compiled Atlético Madrid's match statistics from recent seasons in La Liga. It included data on goals scored, goals conceded, and detailed analyses of each season, as well as comparisons with other teams.

The conclusion was clear: Atlético's offensive performance, while heavily reliant on star players, wasn't the main issue. The team's success hinged on the quality of their defense.

For example, during their double-winning season, Atlético scored 75 goals and conceded only 32, making them the best defensive team in La Liga at the time.

This season, however, with 32 rounds played, they had already conceded 53 goals, making them the worst defensive team in the league.

Yang Hao's analysis didn't stop with Atlético. He also provided data on other La Liga teams over the years, particularly the top clubs.

Real Madrid and Barcelona consistently boasted strong attacking firepower, but their defensive capabilities were equally robust.

Real Madrid had players like Hierro and Sanchís in central defense, with world-class defensive midfielder Redondo protecting them. Barcelona had fielded excellent defenders like Nadal, the de Boer brothers, Ronald Koeman, and Abelardo, with Guardiola anchoring their midfield.

And Atlético?

For years, Atlético Madrid's squad-building strategy had lacked any coherent plan.

Jesús Gil had poured enormous sums into the attack, signing players like Paulo Futre, Kiko, Vieri, and Hasselbaink. But the defense was neglected.

The lone exception was Diego Simeone, but after two seasons—and a double-winning campaign—he left for Inter Milan.

This season, the midfield wasn't short on talent. The team had Radek Bejbl, a key member of the Czech Republic's golden generation, as their starting defensive midfielder. They also had Rubén Baraja, who would later join Valencia and form Europe's best double pivot with Albelda.

Yet Baraja, at 25 years old, was currently a substitute.

Another example was Pablo García, the Uruguayan midfielder who would later shine at Osasuna and earn a move to Real Madrid. He was relegated to Atlético's reserve team this season, with no appearances for the first team.

This was baffling.

In Yang Hao's previous life, after Atlético's relegation this season, many of these players—Bejbl, Baraja, García, Valerón, and Solari—would go on to thrive at other clubs.

Currently, Atlético's defense featured Santi Denia, who was nowhere near the Spanish national team level, and two Paraguayan internationals, Carlos Gamarra and Celso Ayala.

It was important to note that this Ayala was not the more renowned Argentine defender of the same name.

All these defenders shared a common trait: they were roughly 1.80 meters tall.

In last night's 1-4 loss to Deportivo La Coruña, tall striker Roy Makaay scored a hat-trick.

Two weeks earlier, in a 0-3 away loss to Numancia, Jorge Delgado, another tall striker, scored twice.

In an era dominated by physically imposing strikers, Atlético's undersized defense was struggling to cope, exposing a glaring vulnerability.

And the midfield?

From Ranieri to Antić, every coach relied on the 4-4-2 formation.

Though the team sold José Mari for a high price during the winter break, they still had the Dutch sharpshooter Hasselbaink, Spanish talisman Kiko, and Uruguayan playmaker Fernando Correa.

In challenging times, stalwarts like Kiko were indispensable, making a two-striker setup the default choice.

A four-man defense and two strikers left room for only four midfielders.

What about Juan Carlos Valerón, the team's traditional number 10 playmaker? He had to be paired with someone, which ended up being Bejbl.

This left players like Baraja and Pablo García with little to no playing time.

The consequences were inevitable: when Valerón couldn't provide enough defensive cover in midfield, Atlético's backline was left exposed. Combined with their physical disadvantages in defense, this led to catastrophic results.

This season, Atlético had the worst defense in La Liga.

If it weren't for Hasselbaink's stellar performances up front, Atlético's situation would be even more dire.

So far this season, Atlético had scored 41 goals in La Liga, with Hasselbaink contributing 23 of them.

In the UEFA Cup, he had played 7 matches and scored 7 goals.

The King's Cup was another bright spot. This season, Atlético had made it to the semifinals of the tournament.

Next Wednesday, they would host Van Gaal's Barcelona in the first leg of the semifinals.

Atlético's focus on attack at the expense of defense had created a severe imbalance, dragging down their performance this season. Coupled with Jesús Gil's imprisonment, the team's morale was in shambles.

Under these circumstances, a strong leader like Real Madrid's Hierro or Barcelona's Guardiola could have stabilized the team.

But Atlético Madrid had no such figure.

In recent years, the constant flow of star players in and out of Atlético Madrid significantly weakened the influence of local players like Kiko and Aguilera in the locker room.

Frequent managerial changes further loosened team cohesion, leaving the squad without a core culture or unity.

Under these conditions, a financial crisis erupted, causing the entire management team to step down. Chaos swept through the club as all its issues surfaced like a volcanic eruption, and the team's performance crumbled completely.

Yang Hao's data was meticulously detailed. He accurately pinpointed Atlético Madrid's most pressing issue: defense.

This directly contradicted Antić's earlier statements.

In interviews, Antić claimed that Atlético's defense was fine and that their main problem lay in their attack.

After Jesús Gil surprisingly took the time to read through Yang Hao's materials, he sat back down, his sharp eyes fixed coldly on the young man in front of him.

This gave Yang Hao and Miguel Gil a chance to exchange a brief, knowing glance. A flicker of excitement passed between them—there was hope.

"Maybe your analysis isn't wrong," Jesús Gil admitted. "But so what? Pointing out problems and solving them are two entirely different things."

After a moment's pause, Jesús Gil gave a mocking smile. "Compared to a rookie like you, with no coaching experience, why wouldn't I just stick with Antić?"

"If you think Antić can solve these problems, why hasn't he managed to win a single game in the last six rounds?"

The question clearly struck a nerve with Jesús Gil.

He had long been dissatisfied with Antić.

After the double-winning season, Antić had failed to deliver satisfactory results for two consecutive campaigns. Jesús Gil replaced him with Sacchi, but that turned out even worse. Midway through the season, Jesús Gil brought Antić back.

The terms for Antić's return were simple: a one-and-a-half-year contract.

Jesús Gil agreed, and the team narrowly avoided relegation. But by the summer, Antić was shown the door again, with compensation for the remaining year of his contract. Ranieri, fresh off a strong stint at Valencia, was brought in.

To everyone's surprise, Ranieri fared worse than Sacchi.

When the club fell under government control, the interim management brought back Antić, who was still collecting severance pay from Atlético.

This time, the Serbian manager once again demanded a one-and-a-half-year contract.

The situation caused an uproar among Atlético fans, who felt Antić's demands were excessive.

According to Miguel Gil, Jesús Gil had furiously cursed Antić at home.

From a working-class perspective, Yang Hao thought Antić's requests were reasonable. But it was clear that Antić couldn't reverse Atlético's current decline.

"I'm not like him," Yang Hao said, directly addressing the core issue. "He has a contract. Even if the team gets relegated this season, no one will blame him, and he'll still collect every penny he's owed."

He locked eyes with Jesús Gil. "But I'm different. I've been waiting a long time for a chance to prove myself as a coach. I'll give it everything I've got—no matter what it takes!"

Jesús Gil stared intently at Yang Hao for a moment before asking, "And why should you coach Atlético? Just because you have a coaching license? Or because you studied sports management at the Cologne Sports Academy?"

Yang Hao laughed confidently, spreading his hands as he leaned back in his chair. He showed no fear as he met Jesús Gil's gaze.

"That, I can't prove. You'll just have to gamble."

"You know, the times have changed. Football today is about teamwork. You have fitness coaches for physical conditioning, scouts to study opponents, tactical assistants for strategies, and assistant coaches to handle training."

"The most important quality for a head coach now is this," Yang Hao said, tapping his temple.

Jesús Gil fell silent.

He had to admit that the young man in front of him was both daring and charismatic, speaking with poise and confidence even in his presence.

In this regard, Florentino Pérez had been right about him.

A year ago, before his imprisonment, Jesús Gil would have kicked Yang Hao out without a second thought.

But his time in prison, coupled with the turmoil of the past three months, had forced Jesús Gil to confront the problems plaguing Atlético Madrid.

Yang Hao's words had cut through the fog, making Jesús Gil reflect on his years of leadership.

Now, he wondered: was this bold young man worth the gamble?

He glanced at his son, Miguel Gil, who sat tensely across from him. Jesús Gil knew his son all too well and was well aware of the power games he and Enrique Cerezo were playing.

But he didn't mind. After all, Miguel was his son.

Yang Hao, meanwhile, sat calmly. He knew there were others in the room who were more anxious than he was: Miguel Gil and the seemingly unflappable Enrique Cerezo.

Since the infamous 1996 assault incident, Jesús Gil had become Atlético Madrid's biggest obstacle to progress.

For Miguel Gil, who had served as general manager since 1992, and Enrique Cerezo, who had been on Atlético's board since 1987, becoming the true "boss" of Atlético meant removing the mountain looming over their heads.

Yang Hao knew this. Miguel Gil and Enrique Cerezo knew this. And most importantly, Jesús Gil knew this.

After all, he was already 67 years old.

"You really scared me back there," Miguel Gil admitted the moment they stepped out of the meeting room, his tone filled with relief as though he'd just escaped a disaster.

He had never seen his father this enraged yet still manage to calm himself and patiently listen to someone's argument.

If this had been the past, blood might already have been spilled.

"My back is still drenched in sweat," Miguel said with a nervous laugh, clearly still shaken.

It was no surprise—Miguel was afraid of his father. The two were polar opposites, not just in temperament but in every conceivable way.

"How confident are you in this plan?" Miguel asked, concerned.

Yang Hao smirked. He'd always found Miguel Gil to be a decent person, though still somewhat naïve.

His question was like asking a shopkeeper on Taobao, "Is your product any good?" Of course, no one would say no.

Yang Hao wasn't foolish. He responded with unwavering confidence.

"My father was clearly swayed by your presentation," Miguel said. "But he'll need some time to think it over. I don't think there's much of a problem now. Go home and wait for my good news. I'll try to talk to him again at lunch."

For the first time, Miguel was asserting himself and standing by his recommendation, in what had traditionally been a club dominated by Jesús Gil's unilateral decisions.

"Don't worry," Yang Hao reassured him. "I'll get to work refining the plan as soon as I get back."

Miguel trusted Yang Hao wholeheartedly. "By the way, we don't currently have an assistant coach. Antić came in alone. If there's anything you need, let me know, and I'll make arrangements."

When Ranieri was dismissed, he took his coaching staff with him, leaving only goalkeeper coach Jorge Pérez Zaro behind.

When Antić returned to save the team, he brought no team of his own and simply used Atlético's existing staff due to the urgency of the situation.

Now, Yang Hao found himself similarly alone.

More importantly, he didn't even know how to train players.

In his previous life, he was nothing more than a content creator on Qidian's online platform, skilled at asking readers for votes, favorites, subscriptions, and engagement. He knew nothing about running a training session.

"Get me an assistant coach capable of running the team. Quickly," Yang Hao requested.

Miguel immediately understood.

For Yang Hao to take over Atlético, he would undoubtedly need someone like that by his side.

Building a coaching staff wasn't something to be done casually. The members needed to know and trust each other, unlike hiring for a regular corporate job, where employees could take time to adjust and integrate.

In football, a cohesive coaching staff was crucial. If the coaches couldn't work well together, how could the players?

Yang Hao's message was clear: he needed an assistant coach with head coaching experience—someone who could take charge if necessary.

This arrangement was common in European football.

For example, when Rijkaard managed Barcelona, the club brought in Henk ten Cate, a proven head coach in the Eredivisie, as his assistant. Similarly, towards the end of Sir Alex Ferguson's tenure at Manchester United, much of the tactical work was delegated to assistants like Carlos Queiroz, while Ferguson focused on the broader vision.

"Got it. I'll start working on a shortlist immediately," Miguel promised.

But with April already here and the season nearing its end, finding a suitable head coach-type assistant wouldn't be easy—especially for a rookie like Yang Hao.

The most likely candidates would come from the reserve or youth teams, given their familiarity with the club. Alternatively, an external hire might be considered; there were plenty of unemployed coaches eager for an opportunity.

After all, being an assistant coach at Atlético could lead to taking over as head coach if Yang Hao didn't succeed—a golden opportunity.

Yang Hao wasn't worried about this. Spain was overflowing with football talent.

What concerned him more were other issues.

"Miguel, you promised to address the unpaid wages issue. Don't go back on your word," Yang Hao reminded him sternly.

A new leader couldn't gain the locker room's respect without offering some tangible benefits.

For any leader, two powers were essential: control over personnel and control over finances.

Unpaid wages weren't unique to Atlético; they were a widespread issue across Spanish football.

Whether looking at the past or the future, this problem persisted.

Atlético's players were anxious and uncertain about the club's future because of mounting debts and unpaid salaries.

"Don't worry. I'll do my best," Miguel assured him, though his expression was grim.

If he had the funds, they wouldn't be in such dire straits in the first place.

"Not your best—you must resolve it," Yang Hao emphasized. "You know that many players are already in talks with other clubs. The locker room's unity is completely shattered. Whether or not we avoid relegation this season, these players won't stay."

If that happened, another wave of upheaval and restructuring would be inevitable for Atlético.

Of course, for Yang Hao, this would present a golden opportunity.

As a time traveler, he could easily build a formidable squad for Atlético.

But first, he needed to establish himself.

At the very least, he had to hold on to the head coach position before considering anything else.

"I know what you're thinking," Yang Hao continued. "Atlético is a mess, and you want to offload it, don't you?"

Miguel remained silent.

He had shared many thoughts with Yang Hao and hadn't hidden his desire to distance himself from his father's approach to running the club.

Jesús Gil had genuine affection for Atlético Madrid. He envisioned connecting the Gil family to the club as deeply as the Moratti family with Inter Milan, the Agnelli family with Juventus, or the Berlusconi family with AC Milan.

As a self-made tycoon, this was his idea of the perfect way to secure a spot in high society.

But Miguel Gil thought differently.

He believed that the Gil family simply didn't have the financial resources to sustain the increasingly expensive world of professional football.

Because of this, he wanted to sell Atlético Madrid.

Even Enrique Cerezo shared this view.

"I must remind you, Miguel, now is not the time to sell Atlético at a loss. If you make a rash decision, you'll regret it," Yang Hao said firmly. "But I can help you elevate Atlético to greater heights, with minimal investment and maximum returns."

"But right now, you need to give me the support I need to get through this crisis."

Yang Hao had said something similar to Miguel Gil before, and it was what brought him here today.

Hearing Yang Hao's words, Miguel finally made up his mind. Clenching his teeth, he declared, "Don't worry. Even if I have to sell everything I own, I'll back you all the way!"

Yang Hao smiled and nodded. That was exactly what he had been waiting to hear.

"One more thing, Miguel," Yang Hao said as he turned to leave.

"If I do become Atlético's head coach, your father will be making the biggest gamble of his life. But let me tell you this: the bet isn't on me."

With that, Yang Hao waved goodbye and walked out.

Miguel stood there, stunned.

He'd always had complex feelings about his father.

On one hand, he deeply feared Jesús Gil—fear that came from the depths of his soul.

But on the other hand, he held his father in contempt. He found him brash and vulgar, and many of his actions, even as his son, Miguel considered embarrassing.

There were many things Jesús Gil never shared with him.

In fact, Miguel couldn't even remember the last time he and his father had a proper heart-to-heart conversation.

It was always one-sided: Miguel obediently listened and followed his father's arrangements, toeing the line.

That was why Jesús Gil often scolded him for being indecisive and lacking initiative.

But Yang Hao's words left Miguel at a loss.

Could this really be how his father felt?

His instincts told him it was true.

But he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

The moment Yang Hao walked out of Calderón Stadium, he felt an overwhelming sense of exhilaration.

If Jesús Gil was seriously considering his proposal, it meant there was hope.

The relationship between Jesús and Miguel Gil was a familiar dynamic, seen even in Yang Hao's home country.

The self-made first generation often clashed with the silver-spoon-fed second generation. The former could never see the latter as capable, and the latter often viewed the former as outdated. Some second-generation heirs dared to rebel; others, like Miguel, simply conformed.

But Yang Hao's focus quickly shifted back to Atlético Madrid.

The club had many problems, but beneath the surface, its potential was undeniable.

At least on paper, Atlético's squad was impressive.

Hasselbaink was their offensive cornerstone. Solari, Valerón, Baraja, Capdevila, and Pablo García were all proven players in Yang Hao's previous life.

Most of them were between 22 and 27 years old. The youngest, Capdevila, was just 22 but was already the team's starting left-back this season.

What they lacked wasn't talent or maturity—it was opportunity.

An opportunity to play in a system that allowed them to shine.

And Yang Hao already had an answer in mind: the 4-2-3-1 formation.

This setup would maximize Valerón's potential.

In Yang Hao's previous life, when Valerón moved to Deportivo La Coruña, coach Irureta used the 4-2-3-1 to create the legendary "Super Depor," a team that dominated European football. Valerón thrived in that system.

Similarly, when Baraja joined Valencia, his partnership with Albelda as a double pivot brought Valencia both a Champions League runner-up finish and a La Liga title.

Then there was Hasselbaink.

The Dutch striker wasn't tall but was incredibly strong, fast, and explosive. He excelled in one-on-one situations and was a prolific scorer.

Deploying him as the lone forward, focused solely on scoring, was a perfect fit.

But this created a dilemma with Kiko, the "Prince of Spain."

Kiko had suffered a serious Achilles tendon injury during a match against Barcelona last season and spent a long time recovering. Since returning mid-season, he had struggled to regain form, failing to score even once.

Yang Hao remembered clearly that even when Atlético was relegated to the Segunda División, Kiko's performances were underwhelming, paving the way for a young Fernando Torres to rise.

So benching Kiko wouldn't be a problem in theory.

The real challenge lay in managing emotions.

The Atlético locker room was already a powder keg. Even the smallest spark could ignite an explosion, and mishandling Kiko's situation could lead to open rebellion.

If that happened, Yang Hao would be the first to lose his head.

To make matters worse, there were only three days left until Atlético's next match: a Copa del Rey semifinal against Van Gaal's Barcelona at home.

Time was running out for Yang Hao.

After returning to his apartment from the Calderón Stadium, Yang Hao locked himself in and began his meticulous study of Atlético Madrid. Coaching a team was far more complex than writing novels—there was an overwhelming amount of preparation to be done.

By late morning, Miguel Gil called.

"It's done!"

After Yang Hao left, Atlético's three key decision-makers—Jesús Gil, Miguel Gil, and Enrique Cerezo—held a private meeting and finalized the decision.

"Yang, the team is in your hands now," Miguel said earnestly over the phone.

This was a monumental gamble, and both father and son had staked everything on it.

Firing Antić would require a hefty severance payment, but that wasn't the main concern.

The real issue was Yang Hao's complete lack of coaching experience. Everything he had presented so far relied solely on words, leaving serious doubts about whether he could manage the team.

Moreover, Atlético Madrid was in turmoil. The news of sacking the renowned Antić and replacing him with a 25-year-old rookie with zero coaching experience would undoubtedly invite ridicule—not just in Spain, but across the world.

Miguel Gil's serious tone hinted at his lingering doubts about Yang Hao.

"Miguel, trust me. I promise you'll be proud of the decision you've made today," Yang Hao assured him.

Miguel gave a faint sigh of acknowledgment, then mentioned that he had already started searching for a suitable assistant coach. He had also spoken to Fernando Zambrano, the head coach of Atlético's second team.

Zambrano, a 50-year-old Spanish coach, had some top-flight experience with Rayo Vallecano but had a history with Atlético that bore a resemblance to Antić's.

In March 1999, Zambrano was brought in to rescue Atlético's B team, with his contract lasting until the end of that season. However, after the first team's head coach Carlos Aguiar was dismissed in November 1999, Zambrano was reappointed.

According to Miguel, Zambrano had shown little interest in becoming an assistant coach for the first team. In fact, he was strongly opposed to handing the team over to an inexperienced rookie like Yang Hao, calling it a reckless decision.

Yang Hao wasn't surprised.

From his memories, Antić didn't complete the season in this timeline. After his dismissal, Zambrano was the one who took over the first team.

Now, Yang Hao had effectively taken the opportunity that should have been Zambrano's. Naturally, the Spanish coach wouldn't be thrilled.

Zambrano's brief stint rescuing Atlético would also turn out to be the peak of his coaching career.

"It's fine. Keep looking," Yang Hao said with a smile.

Throughout their conversations, Yang Hao's calm demeanor had always reassured Miguel Gil, giving the club's heir a sense of stability amidst the chaos.

The two arranged for Yang Hao to return to the Calderón Stadium in the afternoon to sign the contract. Atlético would then officially announce his appointment.

After hanging up, Yang Hao wasn't as excited as one might expect.

Instead, he was surprisingly composed.

The real challenge was just beginning, and the weight on his shoulders was immense.

As a time traveler, Yang Hao knew that the European football world of 2000 was brimming with talent. Ruud van Nistelrooy was recovering from injury at PSV. Ronaldinho was waiting for his chance to join Europe from Grêmio.

Then there was Eto'o, who was on loan at Mallorca from Real Madrid.

It was amusing to think that before Yang Hao's time travel, he had just read about Eto'o's post-retirement scandal. As president of the Cameroonian Football Federation, Eto'o had been accused of match-fixing, a story that caused a global uproar among football fans.

Now, Eto'o was just a young player starting to make his mark.

The next 20 years would see the European football world enter its most glorious era, with talent overflowing and the rise of two unprecedented superstars: Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi.

Yang Hao was eager and ambitious. He dreamed of carving out a chapter of glory for himself in this golden age, making his time-traveling journey truly worthwhile.

Coaching Atlético Madrid was the beginning of that journey, and Yang Hao was determined to get it right.

Time is money.

After a quick lunch, Yang Hao returned to the Calderón Stadium.

This time, his status had changed: he was now Atlético Madrid's head coach.

Miguel Gil personally came to greet him at the front desk and escorted him to the same meeting room as earlier that morning.

Unlike the earlier meeting, which included only Jesús Gil, Miguel Gil, and Enrique Cerezo, the room now had additional attendees.

Seated beside Jesús and Miguel Gil was Paulo Futre, Atlético's legendary player. At 34, the Portuguese star had been Atlético's first true marquee signing. He had retired in Japan in January 1999.

Recently, Futre had been linked to transfer rumors involving Real Madrid presidential candidate Florentino Pérez and Luís Figo. It was said that Futre had helped broker a meeting between Pérez and Figo's agent, José Veiga.

Lately, Futre had been staying in Madrid and was quite active.

In Yang Hao's previous life, Futre became Atlético's sporting director in November of this year. Clearly, that timeline had been accelerated.

Futre, visibly close to the Gil family, greeted Yang Hao with a friendly nod and smile.

Seated next to Enrique Cerezo was another figure: Clemente Villaverde, a member of Atlético's board. Villaverde had played for Atlético for years but was ousted when Jesús Gil took over in 1987. After the club's privatization in 1992, Villaverde joined the management team and had been with the club ever since.

After the 1996 assault incident involving Jesús Gil, Clemente Villaverde essentially became the public face of Atlético Madrid.

Whether it was meetings at the Spanish Football Federation, UEFA events, or draw ceremonies, Villaverde typically represented the club.

Besides the club executives, two players were present at the meeting: team captain Toni Muñoz and vice-captain Juan Carlos Aguilera.

Toni Muñoz, the veteran left-back, had lost his starting spot this season to the younger Joan Capdevila. At 32, Muñoz was in the twilight of his career.

Similarly, 31-year-old Aguilera was also a seasoned player. However, he continued to perform well, often deployed as a right midfielder due to the team's lack of depth on the right flank.

When Yang Hao arrived, the meeting commenced immediately.

Miguel Gil began by announcing Yang Hao's appointment. He stated that the club had reached an agreement with Antić, who would no longer serve as Atlético's head coach. Yang Hao would take charge of the remaining games this season.

"The team is in an exceptionally critical period, and we need to make bold decisions and rely on extraordinary individuals," Miguel explained, justifying the decision.

But the reasoning failed to convince the audience.

Both the captain and vice-captain frowned, and even Villaverde shook his head.

The decision had caught them completely off guard, leaving them bewildered.

Antić's dismissal wasn't surprising—everyone in Madrid knew that Jesús Gil, like most Atlético fans, disliked Antić, despite his role in the club's double-winning season.

However, replacing Antić with a 25-year-old, inexperienced Chinese coach? Surely this had to be a joke. Did the Gil family think managing a team was child's play?

Still, the entire club was under the control of the Gil family and Enrique Cerezo. As long as they approved the decision, no one else's opinion mattered.

Of course, once the news went public, Atlético fans were sure to protest—and protest loudly.

This concern was precisely why the Atlético board wanted to handle the coaching change quietly.

Yang Hao observed the reactions of everyone in the room, taking mental notes. None of this surprised him.

Opposition was to be expected. Anything else would have been unusual.

In addition to appointing Yang Hao as head coach, Miguel announced that Paulo Futre would take over as the club's sporting director.

This move was in response to Yang Hao's earlier criticism of the club's haphazard squad-building approach, which lacked a coherent strategy and relied too much on gut instinct.

Appointing a sporting director was a step toward addressing this issue.

As Atlético's first marquee signing and a former star, Paulo Futre had extensive connections in European football.

For example, he was close to Portuguese agent José Veiga, a major player in the market. Most Portuguese players moving abroad worked with Veiga. Even Jorge Mendes, who would dominate European football in the coming years, was still working under Veiga's wing at this time.

Notably, current Atlético midfielder Hugo Leal was represented by Veiga.

In the years to come, the Portuguese league would become a treasure trove of talent.

Futre's appointment had been rushed—he'd had only a few hours to decide after receiving Jesús Gil's call. Expecting him to present a comprehensive plan was unrealistic.

Instead, Futre made a few generic statements and promptly handed the tough questions over to Yang Hao.

This was effectively Yang Hao's first test.

He needed to clearly articulate his coaching strategy in front of everyone today.

First and foremost, he had to explain how he planned to save the team from relegation.

"I've done the math. If we want to avoid relegation this season, we'll need at least 44 to 46 points," Yang Hao began, providing an overview of Atlético's current standing and the relegation battle in La Liga.

"But we only have 32 points right now. That means we need 12 more points from the remaining six matches to have a chance at survival."

Everyone in the room was well aware that Atlético's hopes of avoiding relegation were slim.

Yang Hao's statement only confirmed this harsh reality.

Six matches—winning four would yield 12 points.

Was that difficult?

Extremely.

Even for powerhouse clubs, securing four wins in six games was no easy feat.

And this was 2000s La Liga, where the gap in quality between teams wasn't as wide as it would become in the future.

In the coming years, the globalization of football would see Real Madrid and Barcelona capitalize on rising revenues to sign more and more star players, creating a significant disparity in quality.

But for now, the "superclub era" had yet to arrive.

Even for Real Madrid and Barcelona, winning four out of six matches wasn't guaranteed.

For Atlético Madrid, winless in their last ten games, the task seemed insurmountable.

The team's last victory had been in January—three months ago.

If they had the quality to win games, they wouldn't still be languishing in the relegation zone.

No sooner had Yang Hao finished speaking than someone voiced their dissent.

"That doesn't seem right," Clemente Villaverde was the first to voice his disagreement.

"Mr. Yang, you don't seem particularly familiar with La Liga. Even during the seasons with 22 teams, teams typically avoided relegation with around 40 points. Could it be that you've made a mistake in your calculations?"

The entire room turned their attention to Yang Hao, with Miguel Gil looking especially nervous.

If Yang Hao couldn't get something this fundamental right, how could he be convincing?

Yang Hao nodded with a calm smile. "You're correct. Last season, 37 points were enough to avoid relegation."

"Then why did you claim we'd need 44 to 46 points?" Villaverde asked, visibly puzzled.

Unfazed, Yang Hao explained, "Last season, after 32 rounds, Extremadura sat in 18th place with 31 points, while Villarreal in 17th place had 32 points.

"This season, however, after 32 rounds, Oviedo, currently in 18th place, has 34 points, and Real Betis in 17th has 36 points—three to four points higher than last season.

"And don't forget, both seasons featured 20 teams. Last season, there were four relegation spots; this season, there are only three."

In the mid-1990s, La Liga underwent a structural reform. During the 1995/96 and 1996/97 seasons, the league had 22 teams. However, starting with the 1997/98 season, it reverted to 20 teams, reducing the number of relegation spots from four to three.

This change significantly altered the relegation dynamics.

Last season, Deportivo Alavés secured survival with 40 points, finishing in 16th place.

This season, however, the threshold for safety was much higher. A team in 17th place would likely need 44 points to avoid relegation.

The explanation wasn't particularly complicated. The issue was that most people didn't pay much attention to detailed comparisons between seasons, relying instead on vague impressions. This had led Villaverde to challenge Yang Hao.

But Yang Hao's analysis made sense, and the room began to grasp the situation.

This season, teams in the same positions had accumulated three to four more points than last season.

Another factor was that the league's top teams weren't as dominant as they had been the previous year.

For instance, after 32 rounds last season, Barcelona topped the league with 66 points. This season, Deportivo La Coruña led with only 61 points.

Similarly, Real Madrid had 56 points and sat fourth after 32 rounds last season. This season, they were still fourth but had only 53 points.

The reduction in points for the top teams indicated fiercer competition. Lower-ranked teams were securing more points, making the league more chaotic and competitive.

Thus, Yang Hao's claim wasn't exaggerated: 44 points were indeed the minimum requirement for survival.

Miguel Gil glanced around the room, noting that no one had further objections. He felt a surge of confidence and looked at Yang Hao with newfound trust. Yang Hao's analysis and eloquence had always impressed him.

Yang Hao, however, paid no attention to this and continued his breakdown.

"Our remaining six matches are as follows:

Home against MálagaAway against ValenciaHome against BarcelonaAway against OviedoHome against SevillaAway against Mallorca."

"Among these, Oviedo and Sevilla are direct relegation rivals. Newly promoted Sevilla is already doomed to relegation. If we want to survive, we absolutely must drag Oviedo down with us.

"We cannot afford to repeat the mistake of Round 27."

In Round 27, Atlético hosted Real Betis in what was Antić's first match back as head coach.

At the time, Atlético sat in 17th place, while Real Betis was in 16th. It was a high-stakes relegation battle between two experienced coaches: Antić and Hiddink. Yet, Atlético failed to secure a win at home.

For Atlético, failing to take three points in a direct relegation clash was nothing short of a disaster.

Relegation battles were a zero-sum game: to survive, you had to push others down.

"As for the other four opponents," Yang Hao continued, "Málaga is currently 11th, Valencia is 5th, Barcelona is 2nd, and Van Gaal's side is still in the hunt for the title.

"Barcelona trails Deportivo La Coruña by just five points and still has a chance to win the league.

"Finally, Mallorca is currently 8th."

Yang Hao laid out the daunting reality: Atlético was standing on the edge of a cliff.

This was precisely why Villaverde and others had opposed the coaching change.

Antić, despite his flaws, was a proven coach with extensive experience. Replacing him with a 25-year-old rookie seemed absurd given the dire situation.

But Yang Hao had studied Atlético's history in his previous life.

Under Antić, the team collapsed completely, failing to win a single match from Rounds 33 to 37. They suffered humiliating defeats, losing at home to Barcelona and away to Valencia, ultimately confirming their relegation two rounds before the season's end.

Ironically, after relegation was sealed, Antić was dismissed, and the team won their final match of the season against Mallorca under Fernando Zambrano—the same coach who had just declined to work under Yang Hao.

It was widely regarded as a consolation victory, with Mallorca having nothing left to play for at that point.

But now that Yang Hao was here, he was determined not to let history repeat itself.

"I want to emphasize," Yang Hao said, his tone grave as he scanned the room, "that every single match from now on is a final for us. These matches will determine whether we stay in La Liga next season.

"I understand that many of you don't believe in me. That's normal. But whether you accept it or not, I am now Atlético's head coach. That is a fact that cannot be changed.

"So, let's set aside our doubts and prejudices for now. Let's work together to fight for survival, one match at a time."

His voice firm, Yang Hao concluded, "I will prove my ability and value through the team's performance."

After Yang Hao finished, Jesús Gil stood up and addressed the room.

In his typically blunt style, he declared his full support for Yang Hao and demanded that everyone in the club do the same.

"This is the management's decision, and everyone must comply," Jesús Gil said.

His authority within the club was absolute, and with his backing, the matter was settled.

After the meeting, Yang Hao borrowed a small conference room at the club to speak with team captains Toni Muñoz and Juan Carlos Aguilera.

Accompanied by Miguel Gil and Paulo Futre, Yang Hao aimed to understand the current state of the locker room.

The situation was dire.

Unpaid wages were just one issue—the team had descended into such chaos that everyone had lost confidence. Many players had already started making arrangements with other clubs.

For instance, Santiago Solari, whose brother-in-law Redondo played for city rivals Real Madrid, had decided to join Real at the end of the season.

The Argentine winger was undeniably talented. In Yang Hao's previous life, Solari managed to secure a spot in Real Madrid's star-studded squad.

Ironically, while Solari would head to join his brother-in-law, Redondo himself would soon be sold to AC Milan by Florentino Pérez. The Argentine midfield maestro's career would decline sharply thereafter.

That same summer, Real Madrid signed three of La Liga's top defensive midfielders: Makelele, Flávio, and Celades. Only Makelele would truly succeed.

Jimmy Floyd Hasselbainck was another example. His agent was actively seeking opportunities for him, likely aiming for a return to the Premier League, though rumors suggested interest from PSV Eindhoven.

"PSV is dreaming. Even if we're relegated, they can't afford Hasselbainck," Miguel Gil snapped.

As long as players were under contract without a relegation release clause, there was no reason to sell them on the cheap.

"The players' minds are no longer on training or matches," Toni Muñoz said, his voice filled with anguish. "They've lost all hope for this season. All they can think about is escaping. They don't want to play in the Segunda División—not even the local players."

As one of the key contributors to Atlético's double-winning season, Muñoz looked devastated by the club's current state.

Back then, Atlético had been so full of ambition.

Who could have imagined that the "Colchoneros" would now be on the brink of relegation?

In Yang Hao's previous life, after Atlético's relegation, only a handful of players stayed to fight for the club in the Segunda, including the two captains in front of him and Kiko.

But Kiko, having suffered a serious injury, never regained his form.

Toni Muñoz, now at the tail end of his career, had also declined significantly.

In 2000, professional players in their 30s rarely maintained top form. Sports science and advanced training methods were still far from what they would become in the following decades.

The only reliable veteran left was Aguilera.

Yang Hao had no choice but to place his hopes on the two captains, urging them to rally the locker room and restore the players' fighting spirit. He needed everyone to give their best in the final six league matches and the upcoming Copa del Rey semifinal on Wednesday.

Both captains were stunned.

With the relegation battle already so desperate, Yang Hao still wanted to focus on the Copa del Rey?

Did he realize the opponent was Barcelona?

Van Gaal's Barcelona.

The team currently sitting second in La Liga.

Did Yang Hao really want to go head-to-head with Barça at this critical juncture?

Yang Hao's response was decisive and left no room for doubt.

"Yes. Not only will we give it our all, but we'll also win this match."

"Why?" Toni Muñoz asked, utterly perplexed.

Yang Hao smiled confidently at his captain. "Because we need confidence."

That simple word—confidence—left everyone momentarily speechless.

In times like this, confidence was more valuable than gold for a team like Atlético.

Even Antić had thrown in the towel, unable to find solutions for the team.

But in football, confidence wasn't something you could conjure out of thin air. It wasn't a matter of shouting slogans or giving impassioned speeches.

Both players and teams needed victories to build confidence.

If Atlético were to forfeit the Copa del Rey semifinal in favor of focusing on survival, then the remaining six league matches might as well not be played.

The moment the team was eliminated from the Copa del Rey, their relegation battle would be lost in spirit, if not mathematically.

This match wasn't just important—it was vital.

"Now more than ever, the situation is grim, and the challenges are immense," Yang Hao admitted, his tone heartfelt as he addressed the captains.

"But it's precisely in times like these that I need your help and support."

He looked at them with determination.

"Only if we stand united can we carve a path out of this crisis and create a glimmer of hope!"

(End of Chapter)

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