On 17 April 2008, Old Trafford was bustling with noise.
This was the home of Manchester United—the holy land in the hearts of Manchester United fans and the Theatre of Dreams.
Fans sat in the stands, while on the pitch, players in training gear passed the ball to one another.
The big screen displayed the score: Manchester United 0–1 Chelsea.
It was half-time.
At that moment, in the away team’s dressing room, a man about 185 centimetres tall, wearing a white shirt, black suit trousers, and a black tie, was speaking to the players in Chelsea shirts.
However, this man was not Avram Grant, who had replaced José Mourinho as Chelsea’s interim manager that season, but an Asian man.
Gao Bo’s shirt was already soaked with sweat.
This was the second leg of the 2007–08 FA Youth Cup final: Manchester United U18 versus Chelsea U18.
And Gao Bo was the head coach of Chelsea U18.
“We did well in the first half!
Let’s keep playing like this in the second half!”
“Stay compact, don’t let them find space in the middle, and force them out wide!”
“The attack after winning the ball must be fast!”
Gao Bo drew on the tactical board, and the Chelsea U18 players nodded in agreement.
The situation was very favourable for Chelsea.
A week ago at home, they had defeated the Manchester United U18 youth team—which boasted famous young talents like Danny Welbeck and Tom Cleverley—1–0 with a solid counter-attacking defence.
Now at Old Trafford, following a counter-attack in the first half, Chelsea had taken the lead again.
They were leading Manchester United 2–0 on aggregate and had secured an away goal.
Manchester United would have to score three goals in the second half to complete a comeback.
It could be said that Chelsea U18 had the victory in their grasp.
“Don’t think our advantage is huge.
This is their home ground.
You must stay focused on defence in the second half!
Don’t be afraid of their crosses from the wings, but in the middle, you absolutely cannot give them any chance to shoot!” Gao Bo’s expression did not show the ease of someone who already had the victory secured.
Youth matches are often different from senior ones.
Young players experience large emotional swings, and on the pitch, games often become volatile, resulting in high scores—a manifestation of their immaturity.
For Gao Bo, leading Chelsea U18 past the youth teams of Tottenham Hotspur, Manchester City, and others to reach the final would add a significant achievement to his coaching resume.
The Gao Bo of today was no longer the Gao Bo of a month ago, but in some ways, they were the same person.(TN: Shocking sentence which would not be out of place in a philosophy text.)
It was complicated—so much so that even the usually calm Gao Bo felt a bit lost inside.
Everything had diverged after Gao Bo finished his university entrance exams.
Gao Bo was an orphan.
Before he was brought to the orphanage, he had only a blue blanket wrapped around him and a note recording his name and date of birth: Gao Bo, born 30 August 1981.
Life in the orphanage was naturally not easy, but fortunately, Gao Bo had been bright since childhood.
He maintained excellent marks all through high school, and after his exams, he received an admission letter from the University of London.
History seemed to split at this point.
The previous Gao Bo, unable to afford the tuition for the University of London and the cost of living in the UK, stayed in China for university.
After graduation, he worked at a Fortune 500 company, rising from an entry-level employee to a middle manager.
Just as he was celebrating his promotion to senior executive, the Gao Bo who had never been drunk before got wasted.
That day was 30 May 2018.
When he woke up, he found he had the memories of another Gao Bo.
Before receiving the University of London letter, this Gao Bo’s experiences were identical to the other’s: adopted by an orphanage, starting primary school at six, secondary school at twelve, his first intimate experience with his right hand at fourteen, then high school…
entrance exams…
and being admitted to the University of London.
This Gao Bo’s different life began there.
His situation was reported to the education department by the orphanage director, followed by an interest-free loan that allowed him to complete his studies at the University of London—his major being Sports Management and Football Business at Birkbeck, University of London.
After obtaining his master’s degree, Gao Bo also earned his UEFA A Licence—an achievement that many managers in the top five European leagues had not yet obtained in this era.(TN: Is that actually factually correct?)
It was precisely because he held this qualification that he managed to secure a job at a major club like Chelsea.
Fortunately, the memories of both Gao Bo’s resided in a single brain, and their personalities were quite similar, which prevented his colleagues from noticing anything unusual.
Gao Bo spent a week coming to terms with the fact that he had travelled back from 2018 to 2008.
Once his mindset adjusted, he quickly settled into his role—after all, these two Gao Bo’s were the same person.
Gao Bo realised that given his qualifications in this life, pursuing a career as a football manager was the most suitable path.
Now he had an excellent starting point, and as long as he led Chelsea U18 to win the FA Youth Cup, his managerial career would have a brilliant beginning.(TN: Correct there.)
Gao Bo was an optimist.
Having accepted his reality, he threw himself into his work as a head coach.
This was the job he had always dreamed of.
Gao Bo felt quite satisfied with his speech—his presence was strong, his tactics were sound, and his delivery was faultless.
Having lived two lives, his experience of rising from a junior clerk to a corporate executive compensated for the relative youth of twenty-seven-year-old Gao Bo.
In fact, even his assistant coach, Leites, noticed his manager’s maturity.
This young Chinese coach had seemed naive when he first arrived at Chelsea, but he had grown remarkably fast.
In terms of presence, he looked every bit like a future managerial legend.
Just as Gao Bo was about to provide further tactical details for the second half, the dressing room door was thrown open with a loud bang!
A mountain of flesh squeezed through the doorway, charging towards Gao Bo and pointing a finger at his nose.
“Damn it!
Why aren’t you letting George play today?!”
“I’m warning you!
I want to see George on the pitch in the second half!”
“Do you even understand football?
You’re Asian!
Since when did Chelsea hire an Asian to be a manager…”
Before the man could finish, he made a sound like a strangled duck.
Because he really was being strangled.
Gao Bo shoved the mountain of flesh against the wall with one hand.
As his heavy body hit the brickwork, his rolls of fat rippled like waves.
When the movement settled, everyone in the dressing room stood stunned by the sudden turn of events.
“Who is he?” Gao Bo asked, clearly annoyed.
This was the dressing room—a sacred space for the team.
How could an outsider simply barge in?
“Gao…
Gao Bo-kun, he is Director Kent…” The team doctor, Sakuragi Haruko, walked over quietly, her breath soft as she spoke near his ear.
Haruko had short, ear-length hair, with the delicate features common to round-faced Japanese women.
If you ignored her chest, which filled out her tracksuit top, you might think she was only fifteen or sixteen years old.
In reality, Haruko held a master’s degree in Sports Medicine from the University of London and was already twenty-six, serving as the team doctor for Chelsea U18.
(TN: Why such a fixation on the chest?
Author may be a perv.)
Gao Bo suddenly remembered that before the match, a minor Chelsea director had called him asking to include a specific player in the line-up, but Gao Bo had ignored such back-door politics.
“I see.
Thank you, Haruko.”
“You’re…
you’re welcome…”
Haruko blushed.
Gao Bo caught himself glancing briefly at Haruko’s figure beneath her tracksuit before quickly looking away.
He was her boss now; if others noticed his stray thoughts, how could he command respect?
Amidst Gao Bo’s momentary distraction, the heavy director seized the opportunity to break free from his grip.
Gasping for air, he roared in humiliated rage, “You’re dead!
You yellow monkey!
You’re dead!
Do you know who I am?!
Do you know who my father is?!”(TN: To be fair, racism like this was pretty common back then.)
However, the director failed to finish once again.
Gao Bo turned around, grabbed Kent by the neck, and, to everyone’s utter astonishment, dragged the mountain of flesh out of the dressing room like a dead weight before kicking the door shut.
“Who is George?” Gao Bo asked, leaning against the wall, slightly out of breath from dragging the heavy man.
“A kid who joined the U18s a month ago.
He isn’t even in the matchday squad,” assistant coach Leites said, looking at Gao Bo with admiration.
“Ah…
good.” Gao Bo clapped his hands.
Even if George had made the bench, he wouldn’t have played.
Gao Bo despised off-field interference in managerial decisions.
He tidied his slightly rumpled black suit, put on a calm expression, and turned to his stunned players.
“Alright, boys, you did well in the first half.
I’m proud of you…”