Reborn in Football to Build Top Clubs from English League Two

117: The ”taste” of victory and the ”foundation” of the futureSophie Green set down her coffee cup, the recording pen in her hand still buzzing.

She had just asked a question that even she felt was a bit too personal—about the taste of victory.

Lin Feng didn’t answer immediately, tapping his fingertips on the table a few times before a smile flickered in his eyes.

”The taste of victory is like a delicious appetizer; it ignites your craving for the main course.”

His fingers tapped a rhythm on the desk.

”What I enjoy is the process of watching every dish on the menu being perfectly cooked, exactly as I envisioned.”

Sophie stopped taking notes and looked up, gazing at Lin Feng.

It was as if this man’s brain operated on a different set of rules; Sophie could only glimpse the tip of the iceberg, never fully grasping its entirety.

She wrote the sentence verbatim into her notebook.

Her intuition told her it would be the highlight of tonight’s report.

Meanwhile, two hundred miles from Hartlepool, in the university city of Cambridge, a completely different kind of negotiation was at a standstill.

Northern Capital’s investment team sat in a small, cluttered studio, facing five young men in plaid shirts with messy hair.

These men were game development geniuses, but also the most difficult negotiating partners.

”We’re not selling a company; we’re selling a dream.”

Mark Jacobson, the studio’s founder, pushed up his black-rimmed glasses.

”You investors will never understand; games aren’t commodities, they’re art.”

CFO Sarah Wilson felt a headache coming on.

She had already raised the acquisition price from eight million pounds to twelve million, but these geeks were still worried about losing their creative freedom once controlled by capital.

”Gentlemen, our boss’s passion for games is absolutely no less than yours.”

Sarah tried to ease the atmosphere.

”He just hopes to provide you with better resources and a platform.”

”Is that so?”

Another developer, Daniel Li, sneered.

”Then why doesn’t he come himself? Sending a few businessmen in suits to discuss games, that in itself speaks volumes.”

Sarah’s phone rang at that moment.

The caller ID showed Lin Feng’s name.

”Boss, we’ve encountered some resistance in the negotiations.”

She walked to the corner, lowering her voice to report the situation.

”They’re worried about losing creative freedom and have a natural aversion to capital involvement.”

Silence fell on the other end of the line for a few seconds.

”I understand. Tell them I’ll go to Cambridge myself tomorrow.”

Lin Feng’s voice didn’t sound surprised.

”Don’t bring lawyers, don’t bring contracts, just me.”

The next morning, an ordinary black sedan pulled into an alley in the university city of Cambridge.

Lin Feng wasn’t wearing a suit, opting instead for simple jeans and a plaid shirt, looking more like a typical university student.

He pushed open the studio door, and all five developers looked up at the young East Asian face.

”You’re the mysterious boss?”

Mark Jacobson scrutinized Lin Feng.

”You look much younger than I imagined.”

Lin Feng didn’t sit down; instead, he walked directly to the computer in the corner that was running a game engine.

The screen displayed a green football field with twenty-two small figures moving on it.

”The AI logic framework for ’Championship Football Manager’ 1997 version.”

Lin Feng said softly.

”You’ve added 3D data modeling on top of the original, but the core tactical decision tree is still based on Markov chains.”

The studio suddenly fell silent.

Mark Jacobson subconsciously pushed up his glasses, and Daniel Li opened his mouth but no sound came out. Shock spread silently among them.

”How did you know?”

Daniel Li’s voice was incredulous.

”We’ve never publicly disclosed technical details.”

Lin Feng turned around, his gaze sweeping over their faces.

”Because I started the same way.”

He walked to another computer and skillfully opened the code editor.

”Look here, there’s a logical flaw in your player decision algorithm. When two instructions of equal priority appear simultaneously, the system defaults to selecting the first, which leads to predictable player behavior.”

Mark Jacobson leaned in, staring at the code on the screen.

Lin Feng was absolutely right.

They had already discovered this bug but hadn’t found a perfect solution.

”You have a way to fix it?”

”Of course.”

Lin Feng’s fingers flew across the keyboard.

A few new lines of code appeared on the screen.

”Introduce a random weighting factor, allowing instructions of the same priority to be dynamically evaluated according to the current game state.”

He stopped, looking at the stunned developers.

”This way, every player’s behavior will become unpredictable, yet still conform to the inherent logic of football.”

No one spoke; the air seemed to solidify, leaving only the blinking cursor on the screen.

These few lines of code solved a technical problem that had plagued them for three months.

”Who exactly are you?”

Mark Jacobson’s voice trembled slightly.

”I heard you’re a football club owner, but your programming skills...”

Lin Feng didn’t answer directly, instead pointing to a ’Football Manager’ game screenshot pasted on the wall.

”What’s your goal? To make a better Football Manager game?”

”Certainly not.”

Daniel Li shook his head.

”What we want to create is a true football simulator, an AI system capable of predicting real match results.”

A glimmer of light flashed in Lin Feng’s eyes.

”Then what are you missing?”

”Data.”

All five replied in unison.

”Massive, real-time, accurate data.”

”I can provide it to you.”

Lin Feng walked to the whiteboard, picked up a marker, and began to draw.

”Every match, every training session, every action of every player at Hartlepool United Football Club will be recorded as data.”

He drew a complex data flow diagram on the whiteboard.

”Not just basic data, but also heart rate changes, muscle fatigue levels, decision reaction times, and even the impact of weather on player condition.”

The air in the studio seemed to solidify.

These developers were all football fans; they knew exactly what this level of data meant.

”You mean...”

Mark Jacobson swallowed hard.

”We can use a real professional team as a laboratory?”

”Not just a laboratory.”

Lin Feng put down the marker and turned to face them.

”You will have unlimited financial support, complete creative freedom, and the most unique data source in the world.”

He paused, his voice growing firmer.

”Your goal shouldn’t be to create a substitute for ’Football Manager,’ but to use our resources to build a true ’football simulator’ that can predict the future!”

Daniel Li clenched his fists; his long-held technical vision, outlined in a few words by this man, suddenly felt within reach.

Wasn’t the original intention of entering the game development industry to create such a product?

”But...”

Daniel Li was still hesitant.

”How do we know you won’t interfere with our creative process?”

Lin Feng pulled a piece of paper from his pocket with a few lines written on it.

”This is my letter of commitment to you. Northern Capital will provide funding and data support, but will absolutely not interfere with any technical decisions. Your team will remain completely independent until the product is successfully commercialized.”

He handed the paper to Mark Jacobson.

”If you feel I’ve broken my promise, you can terminate the partnership at any time.”

The five developers gathered in a circle, discussing in low voices.

Lin Feng didn’t rush them, standing quietly to wait.

He could feel the struggle within these young people and understood their concerns about their dreams being hijacked by capital.

Ten minutes later, Mark Jacobson looked up.

”We agree.”

His voice was calm, but his eyes sparkled with excitement.

”But we have one condition.”

”Speak.”

”We hope to regularly observe training and matches at Hartlepool United, to personally experience every detail of the sport.”

Lin Feng showed his first genuine smile of the day.

”Of course. I’ll arrange special observation seats for you, as well as opportunities to interact with the coaching staff and players.”

The handshake between the two parties marked the birth of a brand new business landscape.

This small studio, named ”SportsInteractive Logic,” would become the first digital cornerstone of Lin Feng’s sports entertainment empire.

On the way back to Hartlepool, Lin Feng received a call from Old John.

”Boss, the media is hyping things up again.”

Old John’s voice sounded a bit tired.

”They’re saying this match against Swansea City is ’the clash of League One’s strongest minds.’”

Lin Feng wasn’t surprised.

The media always loved to create such gimmicks to attract attention.

”Any movement from Martínez’s side?”

”He said at yesterday’s press conference that they’ve studied every one of our matches.”

Old John’s tone grew serious.

”He claims to have found a way to limit us.”

Lin Feng smiled.

”A clever coach. He’ll try to use methods similar to ours against us.”

”So what do we do?”

”Don’t worry.”

Lin Feng’s voice remained calm.

”They don’t have our speed, nor do they have our ’variables.’”

Old John on the other end of the line asked, puzzled:

”Variables? Boss, what are our ’variables’?”

Lin Feng didn’t answer immediately, instead recalling the tactical footage from recent matches in his mind.

Swansea City’s passing and possession style was indeed impressive, and Martínez’s tactical philosophy was advanced.

But they had a fatal weakness—over-reliance on their system, lacking individual ability to break the balance.

”Jamie Vardy is a variable.”

Lin Feng finally spoke.

”His speed and agility can change the course of a game at any moment.”

”Kyle Walker is also a variable. His ability to break through on the flanks is unpredictable for Swansea City.”

Lin Feng paused, his voice deepening.

”But the biggest variable is Gylfi Sigurðsson.”

Old John was taken aback.

”Gylfi? Why?”

”Because he is the only player in our squad who can completely control the tempo of the game in midfield.”

A profound light flashed in Lin Feng’s eyes.

”Martínez can study our tactics, he can analyze our positioning, but he cannot predict what decisions Gylfi will make at critical moments.”

”And this unpredictability is our ultimate weapon to defeat any opponent.”