When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 60 The Theory of the Heavenly Khan (First Update, 5000 words)
As soon as the locker room door closed, Giuly grabbed two bottles of beer.

"Bang! Bang!"

The cork flew off, and foam sprayed onto the floor.

Before Roy could even take off his jersey, he was sandwiched between Evra and Max, with alcohol dripping from his hair to his collarbone.

Deschamps, unusually, didn't stop him. Instead, he took the beer Bernardi offered, tilted his head back, and downed it in one gulp: "Next game, I want you guys to bury Montpellier at the Stade Louis II!"

Inside the locker room, a chaotic scene unfolded with deafening music.

Jean-Pettit pushed open the dressing room door, his face full of smiles, but his eyes held an undeniable seriousness.

He strode over to Roy, who was passionately spraying beer bottles at his teammates, and grabbed his wet shoulder.

"Good boy! I know you'd rather take a beer shower right now, and we'll have champagne after the next game!"

The senior teaching assistant leaned close to his ear and shouted over the music, "But those old fogies at the Anti-Doping Committee insist you take another urine test! They say the data is 'abnormal'!"

The locker room fell silent for half a second.

Evra's ice bucket froze in mid-air, while goalkeeper Roma pulled out a shin guard that someone had stuffed into his underwear, and it crashed to the ground.

"Damn! Are they blind?"

Max kicked an empty beer bottle away.

"Roy ran a cleaner track today than the urine sample collector's mother!"

The old assistant coach suppressed a laugh and pulled a clean pair of basketball shorts from Roy's open closet: "Put these on. Deschamps has already 'talked' to the urine sample collectors—they agreed you could wash your face before you go."

He then suddenly lowered his voice: "But hurry up, I know you guys are going to party at a nightclub later, screw discipline today!"

The entire Monaco team went to Le Baron nightclub in Paris for a wild party.

Meanwhile, Roy sat in a slowly moving van, the scenery flashing past the window: the dome of Lafayette department store and the Charging Bull of the Paris Stock Exchange—a perfect intersection of extravagance and the undercurrents of capital.

Miliacho pulled out a stack of documents, the papers rustling in front of the air conditioning vents. He laid the documents out on the table, displaying the badges of three clubs.

"May I know your feelings?"

Miliacho's voice was barely suppressed with excitement: "If it were before, I would have told you definitively that three clubs wanted you, even desperately: Inter Milan! Juventus! Arsenal!"

Roy's breathing quickened for a moment, then he leaned back in his seat and whistled.

Miliacho's eyes gleamed with a gambler's shrewdness: "Moratti isn't buying strikers, he's building a dynasty!"

"Vieri?"

He scoffed, "How many more years can that tank crush Serie A defenders? But Moratti wants the next ten years!"

"Adriano!"

The agent suddenly lowered his voice: "They've already bought back that Parma kid; his left-footed shot is incredibly powerful. But you two paired together? Even God would tear up the tactics manual!"

"If you choose Inter Milan, which number would you pick? Fiormo and Conceição could both be put on the market. Moratti said his private jet would fly to Nice immediately, and then we could go to Ibiza to celebrate."

"Arsenal? They lost 2-3 to Leeds United on Sunday, handing the Premier League title to Manchester United a round early! This shows Wenger that Bergkamp and Henry alone cannot guarantee the Gunners the title. Wiltord? He's no different from a nobody now! What happens with the national team will happen with the club! The Gunners have built a beautiful stadium, and their finances may be a bit tight, but they are still generous with their wages!"

"Both Moggi and Lippi have called me; they need a young player who can tear Real Madrid apart."

"What's the fourth option?"

Roy ran his fingers over the Taurus constellation relief on Juventus' black and white shield, which symbolizes Turin.

Miriam slowly pulled the fourth document from the file folder:

Manchester United's red devil emblem is seeping with strands of gold, like lava flowing through the Old Trafford stands.
"I won't give you advice before that. Once you make a choice, my job is to fight for a higher salary for you!"

He abruptly lowered his voice, pinching his index finger and thumb into the shape of a "7," as if holding an invisible holy sword:

"But Manchester United's Ferguson is willing to give you this. Not inheritance, but a reboot—Beckham's traces will be completely erased, and everything from the locker room wardrobes to the lights of Old Trafford will be re-plated with 'ROI'!"

Roy remained silent, while Migliorgio, in his anxiety, loosened his tie.

"For God's sake! Say whatever you want?"

What does the number 7 for Manchester United in 2003 mean?
It signifies the holy grail of football, the throne of commerce, the most eye-catching symbol in the football world, and the ultimate intersection of football and popular culture.

This meant that you would become the club with the most fans in the world at that time, and the player with the most attention from about 75 to 100 million people. At that time, the Premier League broadcasts covered 217 countries, and Manchester United, as the top team, dominated the two major emerging markets of Asia and North America. Manchester United's number 7 received more close-up shots than the president of a small country.

This means that the jersey sales are guaranteed to reach at least 150 million pieces per season, automatically placing you in the top 3 of Nike's global promotion list in the football world. Manchester United's commercial team will customize a personal brand collaboration for you, and appearing in magazines like GQ and Vogue will be commonplace. The timing of the photoshoot depends on your schedule.

Still riding high from the treble-winning season, the Scottish manager regarded this number as both a tactical core and a spiritual symbol.

Of course, the price is that for the rest of his life he will be compared to the ghosts of Beckham, Cantona, and Best, and every mistake will be magnified tenfold.

The air conditioner hissed as it blew across the Manchester United crest on the document, the crimson devil relief flickering in the shadows. Migliorgio's tie was already loose, hanging around his neck like a dying snake.

He earnestly reminded him: "This is the most expensive hesitation in football history."

"Besides, Sir Alex Ferguson has another plan ready to shake up European football – he not only wants to sign you, but also bring Ronaldinho to Old Trafford. That Brazilian magician's dribbling is like a dancing samba, capable of tearing open the tightest defenses. Imagine when he delivers a deadly pass with the magic of his ankles, your explosiveness will leave all defenders in despair. You two are simply a pair of devils who should complement each other and should ravage the Premier League."

When Roy asked with a smile and a joking tone, "There is no option to renew your contract with Monaco."

The agent's Adam's apple bobbed, as if he had swallowed a razor blade. His expression for a moment could almost be interpreted as: Do you fucking know what you're saying?

Monaco's financial deficit under Campora has exceeded 30 million euros. The French Football Federation's Financial Oversight Committee has been investigating the club's financial situation for months. If the allegations are confirmed, Monaco may face relegation due to the economic crisis.

Of course, the situation has recently changed dramatically. Campora presented the French Football Federation's Financial Oversight Committee with proof of €45 million in financing, allowing Monaco to remain in Ligue 1. At the same time, an organization called Monaco Football Investment Company stated that they would continue to inject funds into the club until the club's deficit completely disappeared.

Furthermore, a company spokesperson stated that they will introduce new "non-controlling" investments to jointly fund Monaco, with the total investment expected to reach at least €100 million within three years.

But he dared not and did not want to say it; he still believed Roy was joking.

"This is the craziest rejection in football history."

He then looked at Roy, hoping to see a hint of amusement on the handsome yet arrogant young man's face.

But Roy's hand made a soft click as he opened the car door, and he said:

"Mico, the reason I'm valuable is because I've scored a lot of goals and beaten a lot of Ligue 1 teams. We'll be entering the Champions League as Ligue 1 champions. If I beat Manchester United, Inter Milan, Juventus, or Real Madrid—it doesn't matter which team—how much do you think I'll be worth then?"

"What if we went even crazier and won the first 'clean' Champions League trophy for Ligue 1?"

The wildest ambitions in football history are often hidden in the most casual rhetorical questions.

This is not an arrogant statement by Roy that he has no career plan.

On the contrary, Roy's career plan was like a meticulously crafted map, with every mark carefully considered.

What he wanted wasn't fleeting glory, but a platform that could sustain him for years, a platform to consistently challenge for the top of Europe. Therefore, while other players were drawn to the names of Juventus, Arsenal, and even Inter Milan, his gaze calmly bypassed these options.

Juventus? The Serie A champions, their domestic dominance is beyond doubt, and they are equally invincible in European competitions, but the shadow of "Calciopoli" is looming in the distance.

Arsenal? The legendary unbeaten season is about to begin. Wenger's football philosophy is fascinating, but he has to dance in shackles, shackles weighed down by that beautiful stadium. Roy knows that the team's financial ceiling means they cannot compete with Europe's top clubs for long.

Inter Milan? Moratti's passion for the team is touching, but sometimes this love is too intense, burning away the team's stability. Roy appreciates Moratti's sincerity, but he also knows that a team that constantly changes stars but can never find its core, a team that is called a "graveyard of superstars," is destined to falter at crucial moments in the Champions League.

Football is not a game for one person. As he once said: individual heroism exists in football, but individual brilliance must serve the logic of the collective.

What he wants is a team that is both ambitious and has a system, a team that will not be swayed by temporary successes or failures.

Of course, Roy isn't opposed to transferring, or even playing for multiple teams. Roy had heard of a concept called "nomadic dynasties"—a group of constantly migrating strong players who chase after the most powerful teams, using their talent as fuel for conquest. The world scoffs at this choice, considering it a cowardly act of banding together, a betrayal of the spirit of competition.

But Roy didn't think so.

The problem is not "nomadism," but "failure."

If a player joins Arsenal and Arsenal reaches the top; transfers to Inter Milan and Inter Milan dominates Serie A and contends for European supremacy; arrives at Benfica and Benfica breaks the curse and wins the Champions League again—then he is not a mercenary, but a divine Khan! A king on horseback who makes a kingdom wherever his hooves tread! People will not criticize his choices, but will kneel before his warhorse and shout, "He is the man of destiny!"

The so-called "original sin of nomadism" stems from the fact that most migrants fail to truly bring victory. Like rootless dust, they sweep through the dressing rooms of grand mansions, leaving only deeper chaos. But if you can prove that your arrival signals the crown's ascension, then every transfer you make will be the foundation of a dynasty, not a betrayal.

Roy didn't care about the moral judgment of the world.

All he cared about was whether he could become the "Heavenly Khan".
Can he make every team that chooses him crowned because of him?
The clearest career path right now is right under his feet.
The 2003/2004 Champions League season was an epic riot belonging to the "ordinary people".

That year, the old order of European football was completely overturned—Porto, Monaco, Chelsea, and Deportivo La Coruña, four underdog teams, made it to the semi-finals and defeated the so-called giants one by one.

Real Madrid, AC Milan, Arsenal, Manchester United—these glittering names were all executed on their way to the semi-finals.

This is not an obscure topic, but a revolution.

Roy longed to be part of this uprising.

Joining a powerhouse like Manchester United or Real Madrid this summer, even if you eventually win the Champions League, would be nothing more than joining the "military police" to suppress riots—victory would come as a matter of course, without any real thrill.

But staying in Monaco is different; it's an unexpected team, a team that's disrupting the rules.

Here, every breakthrough and every goal is a mockery of the old order.

Here, victory is not an obligation, but a pure provocation against the very essence of football.

What he wanted was to tear up the script himself, not to perform according to the lines written by the wealthy family.

If Roy had led Monaco to the Champions League title in the 2003/04 season, it would have been more than just winning a trophy; it would have made him one of the most revolutionary individual legends in football history.

From competitive value and national influence to personal reputation, this victory will completely rewrite the trajectory of his career.

In terms of the prestige of the Champions League, this would be the ultimate proof of a hero from humble beginnings.

If history hadn't changed, their opponents would have been Real Madrid, Chelsea, Porto (or Deportivo La Coruña) – teams that are either traditional top clubs or tactical innovators for the season.

Unlike Real Madrid and Milan, who are full of superstars, Deschamps' tactics and Monaco's current lineup rely on Roy's explosive ability and scoring methods. He has absolute control over the shots, and his individual performance will directly determine the team's ceiling.

In terms of tactical value, Deschamps' counter-attacking system and Garroy's dominance in the forward line will become a classic case study for future research on "underdog victory".

In contrast, other "dark horse champions" include Marseille in 1993, whose reputation was tarnished by a match-fixing scandal, and Porto in 2004, whose individual heroism was overshadowed by Mourinho's system-based aura. Or rather, the team's collective logic ultimately highlighted Mourinho's personal charisma.

Since Marseille's victory in 1993, no French team has won the Champions League.

If Roy leads the team to victory as the team's key domestic player, he will become the most admired football icon in France since Zidane.

Although Monaco belongs to the Principality of Monaco, its participation in Ligue 1 and the predominance of French players inevitably lead the French media to portray him as a "rebellious French genius."

2004 was another big year, with the European Championship as a contender. With the Champions League title, the Ligue 1 title, and his individual statistics, if his European performance was decent, he would almost certainly win the Ballon d'Or.

This would make him the only player in the 21st century to win the Ballon d'Or without playing for a "non-elite" club, rewriting the logic of the award.

Therefore, Roy's ultimate conclusion is that staying with the team this summer is a more reasonable and tempting choice than joining a top club to win a championship.

If Roy had chosen to join Manchester United or Real Madrid in the summer of 2003, even if he had won a title with the team, he would have just been "just another superstar".

But if he wins in Monaco, he will become:

The Che Guevara of football, a rebel against idealism.

France's new national icon, and spiritual leader after Zidane.

The most unique contender in the history of the Golden Globe, defeating a powerhouse system with his humble origins.

This kind of legendary status is something that no contract from any top club can buy.

To become a unique presence in the world of football, competitive skills alone are not enough; you also need marketing and storytelling abilities.

What story could be more legendary than this blueprint?

"The first 'clean' Champions League title?"

The agent's Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice was kept extremely low, as if afraid of disturbing some taboo. Marseille's performance in the Champions League final was indeed great, but the shadow of 'match-fixing champions' brought about by pre-match bribery and the mystery of drug testing still lingers in the bones of the Frenchman!

If this comes true, Roy will be the only "clean" core player of a Champions League-winning team in Ligue 1, which means he will have a dominant endorsement deal with French brands. If his career goes smoothly afterward, even if Roy is just one of the French superstars, he will still be a figure who will be remembered in history.

From LV to Renault, all French brands regard him as a "national pride," but...
"You can't gamble your career like a game of roulette!"

Roy smiled, not in a flamboyant or provocative way, but with a gentle certainty.

He reached into the car refrigerator, took out a bottle of mineral water, unscrewed it, and took a sip.

The agent braced himself against the table, enduring the intense mental shock.

Of course, unless I have a cheat code and the entire map is open.

"I'm going to stay for another year, that's my decision. Of course, you need to help me get a contract that's reasonably priced; I won't be playing for 400,000 euros a year anymore."

"Secondly, I heard that Deschamps has renewed his contract with the club. I asked them to ensure that the squad is basically intact this season. If any key players leave, they must ensure that there are reasonable replacements. This is my premise when I sit down at the negotiating table."

The car door clicked open, and the red lights of the nightclub flickered on Miliacho's blank face, like a war that had not yet ended.

Roy stood by the roadside, with the roaring sounds of the Le Baron nightclub behind him, and his shadow stretched long, all the way to his agent's feet.

"Do you want to celebrate with me?"

Roy raised his eyebrows, the neon lights behind him stinging Miriam's eyes.

The agent opened his mouth, but only managed to squeeze out a sound like a rusty door hinge.

He silently pulled a cigar from his pocket, lit it, took a few deep drags, and then coughed again.

Ashes fell softly onto the Manchester United contract.

"so be it!"

Roy laughed and said, "No football tonight—"

------

The second update will be a little late because I wanted to show you the entire league championship ceremony and grand parade all at once. This part was written rather slowly. There will probably be two more updates today, totaling 10,000 words.

A friend mentioned transferring to the Premier League early, and I can only say that the key moments in my career are all carefully considered and will not change. (Even setting aside personal likes and dislikes: my favorite Premier League team is Arsenal.)

The reason why next season is the "Champions League for ordinary people" is because the big clubs are undergoing a complete overhaul this season, with almost all of them in turmoil and no suitable team available.

His goal of dominating Messi and Ronaldo isn't just about surpassing them in honors and statistics; that would be too boring.

I even took age into account; Messi and Ronaldo must be considered "younger brothers," so all his story points must be more significant than the Messi-Ronaldo legend.

His only regret is that he doesn't have a father; that's a huge disadvantage.

Plus, he's shorter than Ronaldo, which is good too, saves Ronaldo from having to stand on his tiptoes.

I'll be describing a handful of key matches in Ligue 1 next season, but I'll be skipping most of the games and focusing mainly on the Champions League. Don't worry about Ligue 1 being boring, because I don't write about Ligue 1 at all.

(End of this chapter)