Chapter 402: Nakata to Capture Asia
At the start, Chelsea’s pressing game caught Manchester City somewhat off guard; after all, it was the latter’s home ground, and the players were slower to get into their rhythm, which was perfectly normal.
The game was tightly contested from the onset.
Pirlo struggled to organize under pressure from Wise and Di Matteo. Occasionally, he managed to find a breakthrough ball through the middle, but the sweeper Leboeuf was there to heroically clear it. Though his movements looked a bit clumsy, the fans in the stands loved such displays, cheering them on in waves.
After twenty minutes, Manchester City had hardly created any good opportunities. However, Chelsea could not capitalize either.
At midfield, Di Matteo, who usually thrived in skillful play, was now being pressured by Makélélé and Pirlo, struggling to perform. His passing routes were constantly anticipated; even Capdevila, who was still refining his defensive awareness, managed to read the game well enough to intercept runs down the right flank, neutralizing Chelsea’s attempts to break through.
Mourinho, observing intently from the touchline, turned to O’Neill.
"Pirlo isn’t playing well today," he remarked.
"He’s intimidated by Wise," O’Neill replied. "That kid is cunning and troublesome. And Makélélé—he’s too wary, too focused on covering Le Saux’s long crosses."
Mourinho frowned. "Or perhaps Pirlo and Hidetoshi are overlapping too much. Both want to dictate play in the same areas, and it’s crowding the midfield."
"..."
Everyone in the stadium could see it, basically. If Nakata dropped back, Pirlo lost his space. If Pirlo pushed forward, Nakata’s influence faded. Unless they adjusted their spacing, Chelsea would keep forcing them into mistakes.
Pirlo, desperate to find rhythm, drifted deeper now, just a few yards in front of his defenders, searching for calm in the chaos. Nakata, recognizing the adjustment, moved slightly higher, positioning himself between Chelsea’s midfield and defense. For the first time, City looked like they might find a fragile balance.
Mourinho, arms folded, glanced sideways at O’Neill.
"Should we pull him back?" he asked.
The pronoun — him — was deliberate. It could mean Pirlo. It could mean Nakata. The decision wasn’t for him to state outright; it was his to interpret, his to own.
"...wait for a moment," O’Neill finally said, his tone calm but weighted. His eyes didn’t leave the field. "I actually want to see if he can adjust on his own. It seems he needs some support."
"..."
Well, since the manager had spoken, so be it. The players would have to sort themselves out on the pitch.
However, the game had its own way of punishing hesitation. Barely a minute later, Tore André Flo rose above his marker to meet a looping cross from the left. His header thundered toward goal, grazing the underside of the bar before bouncing out.
Buffon, at full stretch, could only watch helplessly as the woodwork shook violently.
The collective gasp from the stands rolled like a wave, half in relief, half in dread.
Thankfully, even if Flo had succeeded, the goal seemed destined never to go in. The rebound spun away harmlessly, and the chance dissolved just as Vialli went down under a heavy tussle with Thuram.
The two had been wrestling for position all half, and this time Thuram’s strength sent the Norwegian forward sprawling.
PHWEEEEEE~
"Andrea! Hidetoshi! Come here!"
Seeing the way the match was tilting, O’Neill had no choice but to make a strategic adjustment. He motioned Pirlo over first.
"Andrea, for the next ten minutes, I want you to focus on long diagonal balls to stretch the field. Don’t push too far forward. Stay behind Claude, understand?"
Pirlo gave a small nod, though his expression showed hesitation. He raised his hand slightly, frowning. "What if there aren’t good passing lanes?"
"Then recycle possession with short passes," O’Neill answered firmly. "Be patient. Just do as I say—you’ll understand within ten minutes."
He then turned to Nakata. "And you—don’t drop too deep to collect the ball anymore. Instead, time your runs late into the box, and don’t hesitate to take long-range shots if the space opens up. If nothing is on, then link up with Thierry and Andriy."
As for Nakata, he did not comment; he only nodded.
After that, both stopped questioning and trotted back onto the pitch, already replaying the instructions in their minds. Nakata followed, clapping his hands to fire himself up.
The result?
Devastating.
"Ohhh, what a ball from Pirlo! Absolutely inch-perfect, splitting Chelsea’s midfield wide open... Nakata’s onto it now, driving forward... still Nakata... he shoots from distance—!"
"My word! That’s the second time in ten minutes Nakata has tested the goalkeeper from range. Pirlo’s vision is unlocking the space, and Nakata’s not hesitating. You can feel the pressure mounting on Chelsea."
For the first time, Ruud Gullit frowned.
Pirlo supplies → Nakata executes.
Pirlo created time and space with his passing, pulling defenders out of shape. Nakata then exploited those gaps with his athleticism and finishing. In the final ten minutes, everyone watching could see Nakata unleash two powerful long-range shots.
Mostly, Pirlo collected the ball deep and sprayed a perfect forward pass. Nakata received it between the lines, dribbled past a defender, and fired from 20 yards.
Richard, who had been slouched in his seat, suddenly straightened when he saw the sequence unfold.
"Hmmm..." he muttered, rubbing his chin.
Usually, it was Makélélé, Pirlo, and Zidane who formed the backbone of O’Neill’s midfield. But the fact that O’Neill had chosen to field Nakata—at first delivering only an average performance—was intriguing. In the last ten minutes, however, Richard began to notice something different.
"What’s wrong?" asked miss Heysen, seated beside him.
She had noticed how Richard, who earlier seemed bored, was now leaning forward with rapt attention.
Richard was pulled from his thoughts. His eyes flicked back to the pitch, then lit up as a memory surfaced.
’Wait a second... isn’t it in the next year World Cup that Japan will announce itself to the world stage?’ he thought, recalling the timeline.
Indeed, it would be their first time.
And Nakata... wouldn’t he become one of the players to capture global attention? Surely some Italian club would make a move for him. Roma, perhaps?
Richard’s thoughts, however, were blurry. He couldn’t quite pin down the details. His knowledge of the timeline was fragmented—he remembered certain outcomes, but not the exact sequence of events. Was it Roma, or another club before that? He wasn’t entirely sure.
Still, one thing felt certain: Japan and Nakata’s rise was no accident. This was only the beginning.
"You know..." Richard leaned forward, eyes fixed on the pitch. "This boy Nakata isn’t just another midfielder. He could be the key to something far larger."
Miss Heysen tilted her head. "Larger? You mean tactically?"
"No." Richard shook his head firmly. "Commercially. Globally. Asia is waking up to football, and this—" he gestured toward Nakata, who had just unleashed another long-range effort, "—is their entry point."
"...you mean Hidetoshi?"
Richard only nodded, just as Nakata picked up the ball again, driving through midfield. A quick touch, a drop of the shoulder, and then—
BOOM!
"GOOOOAAAALLL!"
The stadium erupted. The ball had flown past De Goey into the net, and the Etihad (or rather Maine Road, in this timeline) shook with noise. Richard shot up from his seat, fist punching the air.
"Goddamn, finally!" he roared, celebrating Manchester City’s first breakthrough against Chelsea.
For several minutes he allowed himself to get lost in the atmosphere—clapping along with the crowd, grinning like a schoolboy. But as the noise subsided and the chants blended back into the rhythm of the game, Richard turned once again to Miss Heysen, his mind returning to a different kind of calculation.
"Don’t you think," he began slowly, "he reminds you of Beckham?"
Miss Heysen blinked. "What?"
Richard waved a hand, clarifying. "No, no—not the way they play. Completely different. I mean..." He smirked, lowering his voice like he was letting her in on a secret. "Both of them—handsome, stylish, always in the spotlight. And if I’m not mistaken, doesn’t Nakata already turn up at stadiums wearing branded clothes? Gucci, Prada—something like that?"
"...," Miss Heysen was left speechless.
Richard leaned back with a knowing grin, eyes sparkling. "Think about it. Beckham captured the English market—and later, the world. Nakata could do the same for Asia. If City handles this right, we’re not just talking about goals. We’re talking about markets. Audiences. Revenue. He could be the face of football for half a continent."
Roma used this tactic very well. Only then did Richard remember:
After being acquired by foreign ownership (first by the US consortium under Thomas DiBenedetto, and later James Pallotta), Roma focused on expanding its reach beyond Italy — aiming to convert international fans into brand ambassadors.
They strengthened their digital presence with improved websites, social media, overseas e-commerce, and mobile engagement.
Young, talented, and highly visible — that was how Roma positioned Nakata.
His signing was more than just a footballing move; it aligned with the club’s strategy to grow in Asia. Roma explicitly stated that Asia was part of their commercial growth plan. They recognized large fan bases in countries such as Indonesia, where Roma’s brand and social media engagement showed clear evidence of rising interest.
What made Richard interested was that Nakata was often likened to David Beckham due to the attention and fanfare surrounding his physical appearance and fashion sense. Like Beckham, in some ways, his ability as a footballer was overshadowed by his off-the-pitch activities. Yet, also like Beckham, he had never let the national team or any of his clubs down through a lack of discipline or focus during training and matches.
"Jackpot," Richard grinned, feeling as if he had just struck gold.