At exactly 3 PM London time, the match between Chelsea and Manchester United officially began while William chatted away. However, the longer he watched, the more frustrated he became. Thirty minutes into the game, although Chelsea hadn't conceded a goal, even someone as inexperienced as William could see that the team was being tactically outplayed.
Already annoyed, William's mood worsened when the person sitting next to him, Grosvenor, cheerfully said, "See, that's why I don't run a football club. Finding a good coach and the right players is too difficult. Plus, with these fanatic fans, if the team doesn't perform, you'll be harshly criticized."
Although the first half was embarrassing, Chelsea managed to keep the score even. During the halftime break, William made up his mind and said to Anthony, "Get Mourinho to my mother's box."
"Understood, boss," Anthony left the box, gave some instructions to one of his men, and then stood outside, waiting for William.
After excusing himself from Grosvenor, William, along with Anthony, headed to his mother's box. About ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
William stood up and extended his hand to Mourinho, who had just walked in. "Good afternoon, Mr. Mourinho."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Devonshire. Thank you for inviting me to watch the game at Stamford Bridge," Mourinho said, shaking hands. After exchanging pleasantries, William introduced Mourinho to his mother and team manager Kenny, then said, "The second half is about to start, José. The remaining 45 minutes will be your interview. Are you okay with that?"
"Of course, it's an honor," Mourinho nodded. At this time, he was still relatively unknown, so his demeanor and tone were humble, without a trace of arrogance.
Lina was visibly displeased with William for not informing her beforehand about inviting Mourinho to Stamford Bridge. However, with Kenny, the professional, explaining the first half to her, Lina had realized that Ranieri had been completely outwitted by Ferguson, causing her to waver in her stance on keeping the current coach.
Reflecting on her son William's impressive track record, Lina, who had not previously considered a managerial change, began to seriously contemplate the possibility.
After 45 minutes of commentary, both Lina and Kenny were impressed. The 37-year-old Mourinho clearly had something special. At least in terms of defense, Kenny felt that Mourinho was far superior to Ranieri.
The match ended with a 2-0 loss. Kenny was the first to nod at Lina, then extended his hand to Mourinho and said, "Let me reintroduce myself. I'm Kenny Jackson, the team's operations manager. Your commentary was excellent."
Mourinho glanced at the smiling William and then at the stern-faced Lina. He calmly shook Kenny's hand and said, "Thank you, but it's not that I'm brilliant. Some people's tactics are just outdated."
William burst out laughing, knowing that Mourinho was criticizing Ranieri. Lina pulled William aside, glanced at the confident Mourinho, and whispered, "Are you sure?"
"Of course, Mom. Have I ever been wrong? Give him two years, and he might bring us a championship," William said firmly.
"Alright, God, I hope I'm making the right decision today," Lina hesitated for a moment before addressing Mourinho. "Congratulations, Mr. Mourinho. Are you ready? Time is short, and the fans won't be very patient with you."
"Thank you, I understand. But first, I need to confirm: Will I be the sporting manager when I take over, and how much will I get for the winter transfer window?"
William stepped in, "You'll be the head coach, and you'll have the final say on both sports management and transfers. As for the transfer budget, it'll be between 50 million to 100 million pounds, but you'll need to show results to last until the winter transfer window. If the results are poor, I'm afraid I'll have to say goodbye. If you can qualify for the Champions League next year, you'll get another 100 million pounds for the summer transfer window."
"My God," Kenny was so shocked by William's lavish promises that he almost dropped his wine glass. Even Lina was stunned by the numbers. That was at least 150 million pounds—about the same as what Chelsea had cost to buy.
Mourinho, who had never seen such a large sum of money before, was visibly excited. After a moment, he finally said, "You can count on it, Mr. Devonshire. I promise you won't regret today's decision."
"Great, I like your confidence. Do you need help finding a place to live?" William asked, clapping his hands. "Oh, and I almost forgot to mention: your first-year salary will be 1 million pounds. If you win the league, you'll get an extra million. If you win the Champions League, that's another 2 million. As for the FA Cup," William shook his head, "I'm not too interested in that. As long as it doesn't affect the team's performance, you can take it lightly. If you win, I'll throw in an extra 200,000 pounds. Your bonuses will be calculated separately. Any issues?"
"Mr. Devonshire, are you saying that if I win ten league titles, my salary will be 11 million pounds?" Mourinho stammered, a bit in disbelief.
"Exactly."
"My God, no issues at all, sir. Thank you," Mourinho said excitedly, shaking William's hand.
After calming down the elated Mourinho, William turned to the operations manager, Kenny. "Do you have any questions, Kenny?"
"No, boss. I'll cooperate fully with Mr. Mourinho," Kenny was a seasoned professional who knew better than to go against William's handpicked coach as long as the team's performance didn't tank.
Having worked in football for over twenty years, Kenny understood that money was becoming increasingly essential to success. It wasn't that money guaranteed championships, but without it, winning had become almost impossible. As long as William continued investing heavily, it was only a matter of time before Chelsea became a powerhouse. His only concern was that Mourinho might become like Ferguson, interfering with the club's operations.
However, he needn't have worried, as William nodded in satisfaction and then said to Mourinho, "You're in charge of sports matters, and Kenny will handle operations. Any issues?"
"None, boss," Mourinho nodded to Kenny. "Looking forward to working with you, Mr. Jackson."
"Great. Then I'll leave you two to it," William turned to his mother. "Mom, are you attending the press conference later?"
"I'll skip it," Lina shook her head and adjusted William's coat and tie. "I wouldn't know what to say anyway. You're the star today, my son."
"Then I'll take my leave. Gentlemen," William said as he headed for the door, but suddenly stopped and turned back to Kenny and Mourinho. "Make sure Mourinho's commentary from the second half gets leaked discreetly."
"Understood, boss," Kenny nodded affirmatively, while Mourinho shrugged as if he didn't care.
Lina, feeling exasperated, patted William's shoulder. "Hurry up. Don't keep the guests waiting."
"Okay, see you tonight, Mom."
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