Chapter Twenty-Two: Matters of the Transfer

In the thirty-third round of the Bundesliga 2, Hannover 96 defeated Duisburg with an aggregate score of 4-1, clinching the championship ahead of schedule.

At this juncture, undercurrents swept through the various clubs. Hannover 96’s promotion to the Bundesliga was all but certain, yet their conspicuous listing of Mo Mo attracted the clear interest of Frankfurt. Frankfurt, ranked seventh in this round, had missed their chance to ascend to the Bundesliga.

Meanwhile, Yang Chen of Frankfurt had already confirmed his summer transfer to St. Pauli, a move aimed at alleviating Frankfurt’s financial crisis. At the time, St. Pauli, playing in the Bundesliga, urgently needed a player like Yang Chen.

Head coach Demuth of St. Pauli expressed his desire for Yang Chen’s extraordinary abilities to secure a better standing for the club in the coming season. (Yang Chen was a fierce competitor in relegation battles back then, and a leading striker for China during the World Cup.)

Demuth outlined his requirements for the new striker: 1) speed, 2) proficiency with both feet in dribbling and shooting, 3) a threatening presence in the penalty area, and 4) ability to play as a center forward. In pursuit of such a player, St. Pauli went through a carousel of trials, including candidates from Yugoslavia, Croatia, and several African countries, but ultimately found none suitable. In the end, they settled on Yang Chen.

With Yang Chen’s departure, Frankfurt began considering Mo Mo as a replacement. Mo Mo, available for a mere twenty thousand euros, had scored in several Bundesliga 2 matches and, being young, was an attractive prospect for Frankfurt.

However, this was merely Frankfurt’s intention. When they faxed Hannover 96 for a quote, the response was a three million euro price tag, prompting Frankfurt to abandon negotiations. Yang Chen’s transfer fee was two hundred and fifty thousand euros.

Yang Chen’s greatest burden for Frankfurt was his salary, which ranked among the highest at the club, particularly his appearance fees. This led to a sharp decline in his match participation towards the end.

Yang Chen had signed a two-year contract with Frankfurt stipulating that, should the club fail to gain promotion to the Bundesliga within that period, he could transfer to any club for a minimum fee of two hundred and fifty thousand euros.

Yang Chen quickly signed with St. Pauli, but unexpectedly, St. Pauli, originally safe from relegation, stumbled in their final two matches and dropped to Bundesliga 2—such are the twists of fate.

None of this concerned Hannover 96. Karl gradually began to show his prowess, and the recovery of Freddy Bobic and Karlmont eased any shortage in attack for Hannover 96, who often opted for a single striker formation.

In these circumstances, Mo Mo’s presence became somewhat redundant, and head coach Peter Neururer started to reconsider his position. Mo Mo, lacking an agent, had to negotiate directly with Neururer.

So, how would he approach it? “Hey! Next season, would you be willing to play as a substitute for us?” Yes, a substitute.

Mo Mo’s abilities stood out in Bundesliga 2, especially in terms of explosiveness, but even that was fading. The attributes, classified as follows: below 10 is grey, below 14 is yellow, below 18 is emerald green, and above that is deep green.

Grey attributes mark a professional player, yellow denotes national team standard, emerald green signifies continental level, and deep green is world class. Mo Mo’s current attributes, at best, made him a professional; only his explosiveness barely touched continental level.

Let’s list some figures for clarity.

Cristiano Ronaldo, famed in later years and a frequent Ballon d'Or winner alongside Messi, had the following stats at age 31: shooting 19, off-the-ball movement 19, speed 19, and explosiveness 18.

Lionel Andrés Messi, at age 28: shooting 18, off-the-ball movement 16, speed 18, explosiveness 18, agility 19, balance 18, and technique 19.

Perhaps the difference isn’t obvious, so let’s put it this way: a forward needs more than shooting skills to score goals. Shooting determines accuracy, off-the-ball movement enables them to find spaces for shots, composure prevents wild attempts in pressure situations.

Imagination allows players to execute skillful, unorthodox shots—such as curling the ball. These four attributes are like puzzle pieces; only when all are complete does a truly perfect striker emerge.

Mo Mo’s shooting was 8, off-the-ball movement 14, composure 18, imagination 18. This seems decent, but it merely reflects his ability to seize chances at goal; he must first create those opportunities.

One might think, “Just max out the attributes.” But training points are limited. To max out an attribute, at least one hundred thousand training points are needed, and some attributes are linked—speed, for instance, requires balance and agility to be raised first.

Starting a match earns about 300 training points, coming on as a substitute earns 150, weekly training yields 60-80 points. Even with eight matches a month, all starts, and four weeks of maximum training, a year nets only thirty to forty thousand points.

Of course, promotion to higher leagues and better facilities can increase training points. But if Mo Mo remains a substitute in Bundesliga 2, by age 27—ten years later—he’ll only have three to four hundred thousand training points, with too many attributes needing improvement.

Once an attribute reaches 18, upgrading costs over 3,200 points per increment; going from 18 to 19 costs over 4,000 per click. Even with full matches and training, it’s hard to raise these in Bundesliga 2.

Mo Mo knew what he needed. When he left Real Madrid, he asked Peter Neururer if he’d get playing time; Neururer promised at least half the matches, but reality proved otherwise.

Now, with Neururer clearly proposing Mo Mo as a substitute for the next season, Mo Mo actually wanted to punch him. Perhaps Neururer thought Mo Mo, aged only seventeen, should still be playing in the U17s, and reaching professional league already was impressive.

But Mo Mo needed training points, needed match time; combined across two lives, he was nearly forty or fifty! He knew exactly what he needed.

“Peter Neururer, I hope you can transfer me out.”

Mo Mo’s prospects were bleak. He realized he truly needed a skilled agent, though he’d long had the idea, he never found time to act on it.

Neururer’s expression was sour, but he said nothing. From initial anger to now, he’d grown accustomed or perhaps understood Mo Mo’s temperament. Mo Mo, however, showed no courtesy, turning and running out of the club, his mood foul and unwilling to discuss further.

All this was observed by a broad-shouldered figure, who walked in Mo Mo’s direction.

Mo Mo was troubled—he suddenly discovered he was penniless. His arrival in this world had been abrupt; he’d always eaten and slept at the club. Now, running outside, he realized he had not a single coin. Damn.

“Hey, kid. Who do you think you are? Some superstar scoring thirty or forty goals a season in the top leagues? Running out without money, huh?”

Mo Mo turned, not knowing who this fat man was. In fact, he discovered a unique ability: whatever people said, his mind automatically translated it. A useful, powerful skill—he liked it.

“What about you, fatso? Are you following me to buy me a meal?”

Most people have one or two fat friends—typically good-natured and gentle.

But this fat man clearly was not. He sneered and looked at Mo Mo.

“Hey!? What are you thinking? A professional player like you—should you be eating this stuff? Do you think you’re an alien already?”

When in a bad mood, someone striking up a conversation is a double-edged sword: you might want to hit them, or ignore them. Mo Mo discovered a third option—you want to hit them, but can’t beat them.

This fat man wasn’t tall, about Mo Mo’s height, wore black glasses and a black suit. Mo Mo suddenly had a thought: could this be an agent?

“Ha! Fatso, are you an agent? Want to sign me?”

Mo Mo thought it was silly, but said it anyway.

“No, actually, I’m a mafioso, but I do have ambitions to become an agent. I mean, I’m working on it.”

Mo Mo squinted, stepped forward, and said,

“You know what? You’re too lame. If you want to be a good agent, how can you approach players directly?”

The fat man squinted, seemed to ponder, then looked up and asked,

“So how should I do it, huh?”

Looking at his amiable face, Mo Mo recalled someone—not because of his friendliness, but a powerful agent behind the transfers of Zlatan Ibrahimovic, Mario Balotelli, and Paul Pogba.

That man was also mafioso; Mo Mo had read about him in Ibrahimovic’s autobiography, though he couldn’t quite recall the name—something like ‘Ola’. But now, it didn’t matter.

“You should first give a harsh dressing-down to the player, and that line about scoring thirty or forty goals was good—keep at it!”

Mo Mo patted the fat man’s shoulder,

“And most importantly, let the player seek you out. You know? If you approach them first, you lose authority. Still, I’m happy to let you be my agent because I have something important to arrange, soon.”

He glanced at the fat man suspiciously, then asked,

“You haven’t told me your name yet!”

The fat man looked up, smiled—a smile that did not resemble a mafioso at all.

“Mino Raiola.”

At that time, Mino Raiola hadn’t signed Zlatan Ibrahimovic.

At that time, Mino Raiola hadn’t signed Mario Balotelli.

At that time, Mino Raiola hadn’t signed Paul Pogba.

Each of these three, especially Zlatan Ibrahimovic, would prove a handful in the future. Mo Mo stiffened, imagining the day Mino Raiola, following his advice, gave Zlatan Ibrahimovic a scolding.

And if, in the future, Zlatan Ibrahimovic discovered Mino Raiola’s approach was inspired by Mo Mo’s suggestion—the scene would be too much for Mo Mo to imagine.

“Mino Raiola?”

Mo Mo stared at the harmless, affable fat man and muttered.

“Yes, it's me, Mino Raiola.”

The world, indeed, is... wonderful.

Ps. To all readers catching up, are there any free reward tickets or Qidian coins left? The countdown for the 515 Red Packet leaderboard is on—I'm canvassing for votes and reward tickets, one last push!