Chapter 139: The Arrival of the Tycoons! We're Going for the Treble!
"Another midfield interception!"
"A fast break from Bayswater Chinese!"
"It's down the left again, Di María on the ball."
"Let's see how he takes on Zambrotta this time..."
"Zambrotta is well-positioned."
"Di María crosses—toward the edge of the box!"
"Arshavin volleys it—"
"It hits Milito and stays in the box!"
"Džeko shields Puyol, controls it—no room to turn."
"He passes it out of the area, back to Di María."
"Another cross from Di María!"
"Back post—Arshavin!"
"He misses the header!"
"Since the second half began, Bayswater Chinese have maintained intense pressure—relentless attacking."
"Especially down the left."
"Di María has been incredibly active since the break."
"If in the first half the attacks focused on the right, now Di María's side has become a critical outlet."
"The score remains 3–0!"
"Rijkaard seems at a loss."
"Not even showing signs of making changes."
"At this point, Barcelona should consider shoring up the defense."
"Bayswater Chinese are constantly threatening in and around the box."
"At this rate, another goal is likely..."
...
"Barcelona building up through midfield."
"Xavi sends it right to Eto'o."
"Eto'o squares it for Bojan—"
"Thiago Silva slides in—great tackle!"
"Bojan is down but no whistle!"
"Yaya Touré plays it forward to Modrić."
"Here comes Bayswater Chinese again!"
"Barcelona's defense needs to get back quickly!"
"Modrić crosses midfield with the ball—slips a pass behind the line, looking for Di María again!"
"Di María and Zambrotta in a footrace!"
"The Argentine is faster—gets there first and breaks into the box!"
"Stops, cuts back…"
"Fake move!"
"Di María's like rubber—completely shakes off Zambrotta, goes to the end line, low cross!"
"Puyol clears with a crucial header!"
"The ball drops outside the box!"
"Modrić's coming up!"
"Let's see what he does..."
"He shifts left—chipped pass, back to Di María."
"No touch—first-time low cross!"
When Di María delivered that low ball, Džeko was being tightly marked by Puyol near the left side of the penalty spot.
The Bosnian couldn't break free.
But Modrić, who had just made the pass, had already surged into the box.
Yet he wasn't faster than the ball.
Just as it seemed no one could reach the cross, a flash of red came charging in from the opposite side—
Arshavin.
He flung his entire body forward at the ball.
It was risky—any misstep, and he could've slammed into the post.
But Arshavin didn't care.
He was playing against Barcelona.
The club he had adored since childhood.
Long before joining Bayswater Chinese, Arshavin had dreamed of wearing the Barça jersey.
He had always seen the Premier League as a stepping stone, Bayswater Chinese as a bridge to Catalonia.
His dream? To shine in front of Barcelona.
And the best way to do that was to destroy them.
So he threw himself at the ball—
Even if it meant crashing into the post.
Milito tried desperately to stop him—
But couldn't.
He could only watch as Arshavin slid past him, connected with a sliding shot, and sent both himself and the ball into the net.
He barely missed the post!
So dangerous.
But—
"GOAL!!!!"
"Arshavin again!"
"A brace!"
"The Russian star throws himself into the play, risking injury, just to bury the chance and give Bayswater Chinese a fourth!"
"4–0!"
"Barcelona are collapsing like a house of cards!"
"This match reminds me of the UEFA Super Cup in Monaco, August 2007..."
"That one also ended 4–0."
"But back then, Barcelona blamed their tight schedule and fatigue, saying Bayswater Chinese took advantage."
"But now, in a Champions League quarterfinal, at Wembley, Barça are being annihilated again."
"This will be a painful memory for them."
...
As Arshavin's shot, and his whole body, tumbled into the back of the net, Yang Cheng could no longer contain himself.
Fists clenched, he roared on the sideline.
4–0!
Another 4–0!
"We've got a thing with Barcelona—every time it's 4–0!" Brian Kidd shouted gleefully, tugging on Yang Cheng's shirt.
The stadium was rocking—90,000 fans erupting in deafening cheers.
Yang Cheng stood in the technical area, like a lone figure in a roaring ocean.
It felt amazing.
On the pitch, brilliant football.
In the stands, passionate fans.
Everything surged through Yang Cheng—pure adrenaline and ambition.
"Brian!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.
Kidd looked over immediately.
Yang Cheng's smile had faded, but his eyes were burning.
"This season—we're going for everything!"
"The Premier League, the FA Cup, the Champions League—
I want them all!"
"Every single one!"
Yang Cheng said it through gritted teeth, with all his might.
Brian Kidd was stunned.
Yang Cheng rarely made bold declarations.
He had always seemed far more mature than his age—measured, pragmatic.
He never made promises he couldn't keep.
But now?
He was declaring a treble.
And Kidd couldn't help but nod.
Even though his rational mind whispered it was overly ambitious, he still couldn't say no.
Opportunities like this don't come around often.
Kidd had once missed out on a treble—he'd left United for Blackburn just before the historic 1999 season.
He helped develop that squad, was close to every player—
But when they lifted the trophies, he wasn't there.
His greatest regret.
Now?
He'd do whatever it took to win one.
Too ambitious?
So be it.
At worst, they'd fail—fall flat on their faces.
But with a chance like this, how could they not go for it? How could they not fight for it? What a regret it would be otherwise.
...
Bayswater Chinese ultimately thrashed Barcelona 4–0 at home thanks to a brace from Arshavin, and goals from Džeko and Yaya Touré!
The victory sent shockwaves through European football, reported and discussed across the globe.
No one could have expected that this injury-ridden Barcelona side would be so utterly dismantled away from home.
If the 0–4 loss in the 2007 UEFA Super Cup could still be chalked up to bad luck or poor preparation, what about now?
Catalan media were the first to launch attacks—aiming directly at Rijkaard.
Mundo Deportivo criticized his in-game decisions, citing a complete failure to adapt, change tactics, or adjust personnel—allowing Bayswater Chinese to score again and again, unhindered.
"This is the darkest night in Barcelona's history."
According to the paper, Rijkaard's poor leadership and the ineffectiveness of Barcelona's attackers had led to total collapse.
"Not a single player on that pitch tonight deserved to wear the Barcelona jersey—that's the saddest part of all."
Even veterans like Puyol, Xavi, and Iniesta failed to deliver.
Barça's midfield was outclassed by Bayswater Chinese.
"Xavi and Iniesta's vaunted passing was nullified at Wembley. They were repeatedly dispossessed and counterattacked."
As for the backline—no comment necessary. It had already been criticized all season.
This wasn't their first humiliation.
1–3 away to Villarreal.
2–4 away to Atlético Madrid.
0–1 at home and 1–4 away to Real Madrid.
Barcelona's defensive problems were no secret.
But no one expected such a devastating loss in London.
Not even a single away goal.
They were essentially knocked out in the first leg.
Sport published a scathing piece blaming the players' lack of motivation.
"This Barcelona felt like strangers."
"Not a single player put in a performance worthy of this club."
Disjointed attack. A midfield that couldn't progress the ball. A defense full of holes.
Even Valdés had a string of uncharacteristic errors.
This wasn't just unbelievable—it was hopeless.
"Calls for Rijkaard's dismissal started last summer. The board gave him one more chance."
"Now, it's clear—he cannot save this team."
Sport touted Mourinho as the most qualified, highest-profile free agent manager—
a defensive specialist who could restore tactical discipline and command the locker room.
That was exactly what Barcelona needed.
But not everyone agreed.
Johan Cruyff, in his column, didn't hide his disappointment in the result.
"The better team won. Bayswater Chinese deserve full recognition."
As for Barcelona, Cruyff believed the issue was psychological.
"The team's overall quality isn't the problem—the players are suffering from a major mental crisis."
As for solutions?
Cruyff didn't think Mourinho was the answer.
On the contrary, he believed the Portuguese manager's style, temperament, and tactics would be a nightmare for Xavi, Iniesta, and even Messi.
If not Mourinho, then who?
Cruyff strongly recommended Tottenham manager Juande Ramos.
He had been singing Ramos' praises since the previous summer, believing he was fit to manage Barça.
And if not Ramos?
Cruyff said Barça B coach Pep Guardiola could be a great option too.
"But I'm not sure he's ready yet."
Looking ahead to the return leg, Cruyff shared his thoughts:
"Even before the team left for London, I warned: limit lateral and backward passes. Bayswater Chinese are lethal on the break. Their transition is incredibly fast. With our fragile backline, we won't survive."
"And look what happened."
Back at Camp Nou, he said, the match would be a chance to restore pride—not to obsess over the scoreline.
Barcelona needed to rediscover their style.
"Try to pin Bayswater Chinese in their own half. Because if you can't, their counterattack will kill you."
Cruyff also praised Bayswater Chinese, especially Džeko and Arshavin.
He called Džeko the most complete and effective striker in Europe today.
"He can fill any role a center-forward needs. His tactical intelligence is off the charts."
"I can't think of a better striker. Ibrahimović? Maybe. But I prefer Džeko."
"Arshavin is a truly unforgettable player. Technically superior, blazing fast, and incredibly creative."
"A childhood fan of Barça and the original Dream Team?"
"Good. He was born to play for this club."
...
While Spanish media tore into Barcelona, the British press focused on praising Bayswater Chinese's brilliance.
Especially Arshavin.
Cristiano Ronaldo might have been the star of the Premier League this season, but Arshavin was every bit as dazzling.
His goal tally was lower, but his assists far outnumbered Ronaldo's.
And more importantly, the level he displayed on the pitch was clearly above everyone else.
That's extremely rare.
As early as the winter transfer window, rumors had emerged that top clubs—Chelsea and Real Madrid among them—were desperate to sign the Russian Tsar.
Not long ago, The Sun dropped a bombshell:
The race for Arshavin had reached boiling point.
Billionaire Russian investor Usmanov publicly promised that if he acquired full control of Arsenal, he would immediately bring Arshavin to the Emirates.
It would mark a new era—a signal that Arsenal would stop selling stars and start buying them.
Arsenal fans were split.
Yes, protecting the club's English identity mattered.
But in the modern Premier League?
Buying elite talent and boosting competitiveness felt… very appealing.
After all, when Abramovich bought Chelsea, did the club lose its traditions?
If anything, their power and presence had exploded.
At worst, you fail and walk away with a bruised ego.
But to have such an opportunity and not fight for it—what a regret that would be.
...
Bayswater Chinese crushed Barcelona 4–0, with Arshavin bagging a brace and goals from Džeko and Yaya Touré completing the rout.
The result shook European football to its core and was quickly reported across every major outlet worldwide.
No one had expected such a battered Barcelona to be humiliated so thoroughly away from home.
If the 0–4 defeat in the 2007 UEFA Super Cup could still be dismissed as a fluke, how could anyone explain this?
Catalan media were the first to go on the offensive, directing their fury at Rijkaard.
Sport accused the coach of severe in-game mismanagement, failing to make timely tactical or personnel changes, and allowing Bayswater Chinese to score again and again with ease.
"This is the darkest match in Barcelona's history."
According to Sport, it was Rijkaard's incompetence and the front line's toothlessness that led to the disaster.
"Not a single player on the pitch deserved to wear the Barcelona shirt—that's the most tragic part."
Even stalwarts like Puyol, Xavi, and Iniesta underperformed.
The midfield was completely outplayed.
"Xavi and Iniesta's famed passing failed at Wembley. They were dispossessed repeatedly and constantly hit on the counter."
As for the defense? No need to elaborate.
Barcelona had already been the subject of relentless criticism for their leaky backline this season.
Heavy losses to Villarreal (1–3), Atlético Madrid (2–4), and both legs against Real Madrid (0–1 at home, 1–4 away) had already exposed their fragility.
But no one expected them to be dismantled so thoroughly in London.
Not even a single away goal.
It was practically an early elimination.
El Mundo Deportivo accused Barcelona's squad of lacking motivation.
"This Barça side felt unfamiliar—no one showed up."
A disjointed forward line, a suffocated midfield, a defense full of holes.
Even Valdés had a few howlers.
The team felt unrecognizable—hopeless.
"Calls for Rijkaard to step down began last summer. The board gave him one more chance."
"Now it's clear: he can't save Barça."
The paper backed Mourinho as the ideal replacement—a defensive expert with the experience and authority to restore order on the pitch and in the locker room.
But not everyone agreed.
Johan Cruyff, in his column, didn't hide his disappointment.
"The better team won. Bayswater Chinese deserve full credit."
He felt Barça's issues were psychological rather than tactical.
"The squad has the quality, but the mental state is in shambles."
And Mourinho?
Cruyff believed the Portuguese coach's style, ego, and system would be a disaster for Barça—and for Xavi, Iniesta, and Messi.
"His coaching would be a nightmare for those players."
If not Mourinho, then who?
Cruyff strongly recommended Tottenham's Juande Ramos, whom he had already endorsed the previous summer.
If Ramos wasn't the one, then maybe Barça B coach Pep Guardiola.
"Though I'm not sure he's ready yet."
As for the return leg, Cruyff reiterated his warning.
"Before the trip to London, I said it—cut back on horizontal passes and back-passes. Bayswater Chinese hit the counter too fast. Our defense can't handle it."
"And now, the world has seen the result."
Still, he urged Barça to treat the Camp Nou second leg as a chance to restore dignity, not chase the result.
"Play the Barça way. Keep Bayswater Chinese pinned in their own half."
"Because if we can't press them back, our defense is dead in the water."
Cruyff also lavished praise on Džeko and Arshavin.
He called Džeko the most complete striker in Europe this season.
"He can play any role up front, and his tactical discipline is unmatched."
"I can't think of a better center-forward. Maybe Ibrahimović, but I'd still take Džeko."
And Arshavin?
"He's the kind of player who immediately leaves a lasting impression. Technically gifted, lightning-fast, and tactically clever."
"He grew up a Barça fan, idolized the Dream Team?"
"Perfect. He was born to wear this shirt."
...
In England, the focus was very different.
The British media gushed over Bayswater Chinese's performance—especially Arshavin.
In the Premier League, Cristiano Ronaldo was without a doubt the standout star of the season.
But Arshavin?
Every bit his equal.
Fewer goals, yes.
But far more assists.
And the level of his performances was visibly a cut above.
In fact, rumors of a summer transfer had already begun circulating during the winter window.
Chelsea, Real Madrid, and other giants were all after the Russian Tsar.
The Sun even claimed that the race for Arshavin had reached boiling point—especially with Arsenal.
Russian billionaire Alisher Usmanov reportedly promised that if he took full control of Arsenal, he would bring in Arshavin as a statement signing.
It would mark a revolutionary shift.
Arsenal would no longer sell stars—they would buy them.
Naturally, this sparked fierce debate among fans.
Yes, preserving the club's English identity was important.
But in today's Premier League?
Buying world-class players felt very appealing.
Just look at Chelsea. After Abramovich arrived, the club's DNA didn't change—
only their results did. And dramatically.
According to sources close to Arsenal, the two prospective buyers—Usmanov and Kroenke—had submitted very similar offers.
Both valued the club at around £500 million.
But the methods they intended to use were very different.
Both had set up dedicated companies for the acquisition, but Kroenke didn't have that kind of cash on hand. His plan was to finance the purchase largely through bank loans.
A standard move in capital operations.
The real difference came after the acquisition.
Kroenke leaned toward debt restructuring, helping Arsenal climb out of financial trouble, and then pushing the club toward financial self-sustainability.
Even the apartment complex built on the old Highbury site was listed as an asset to be sold.
Usmanov, on the other hand, was much wealthier.
He, too, had established a company specifically to buy Arsenal—but he promised that after completing the acquisition, he would inject fresh funds to immediately solve the club's debt problems, assume all existing projects and liabilities, and even fund marquee signings.
Especially one in particular:
"The Russian billionaire Usmanov has a deep admiration for Arshavin, believing the Tsar is the most talented player in the Premier League—and should be wearing an Arsenal shirt."
The Independent reported that Usmanov's bold promises were increasingly swaying Arsenal's board.
According to the article, the two parties had already reached a preliminary agreement, with Peter Hill-Wood and the rest of the board deciding to sell their shares at the £500 million valuation.
"But the biggest roadblock now is Kroenke's shareholding in Arsenal."
"Sources within Arsenal say Usmanov, through David Dein, is negotiating with Kroenke's camp to purchase his shares at a fair price."
"Kroenke's involvement was always about profit. If the price is right, there should be no issue reaching a deal."
Once this news broke, the entire English football world was shaken.
If Arsenal were to be taken over by foreign investors, all of the Premier League's top five clubs would be owned by non-Brits.
Manchester United: the Glazer family (USA)
Bayswater Chinese: the Yang family (China)
Liverpool: Gillett and Hicks (USA)
Chelsea: Roman Abramovich (Russia)
And now… Arsenal?
A signal, perhaps, of the league's new world order.
But things were moving even faster at Manchester City.
Right after Matchweek 33, the Manchester Evening News revealed that Thaksin Shinawatra was in the process of selling his shares in City to a Middle Eastern consortium.
Initially, it was assumed to be Suleiman Al-Fahim.
But it turned out, Al-Fahim was just a consultant.
The real buyer? Sheikh Mansour of Abu Dhabi, personal net worth estimated at £17 billion, controlling assets of over $1 trillion.
As the wealthiest emirate in the UAE, Abu Dhabi viewed the City purchase as a strategic priority.
City fans were ecstatic.
After witnessing Chelsea's meteoric rise, what Premier League fanbase wouldn't want a similar fairy tale?
Especially City.
Years of abuse from United fans. Years of Ferguson's mockery.
Now, backed by limitless oil money, City were suddenly becoming the richest club in world football.
According to Manchester Evening News, insiders close to Sheikh Mansour revealed:
"The deal will be finalized before the end of the season. The Abu Dhabi Group will take full control of Manchester City and immediately invest."
"They plan to build a world-class training base, similar to Bayswater Chinese's Brent complex."
"And they'll spend big in the transfer market to boost competitiveness."
"Manager Eriksson and some of the front office may be retained."
"And as for the summer transfer window—there will be no spending cap. Any star on the market could be a target!"
That one sentence was enough to send chills down the Premier League's spine.
A tycoon had arrived. And the rest of the league trembled.
...
When Yang Cheng heard the news of the City takeover, his first reaction was:
"Earlier than it happened in my previous life."
The Premier League had become more competitive than ever.
And more volatile.
"Looks like Usmanov taking over Arsenal is almost a done deal," Adam Crozier commented, based on intel from his own network.
"And this guy isn't like the Americans. Word is, he's actually willing to spend money."
Usmanov and Abramovich likely shared the same goal:
Buy a football club as a shield, a form of influence.
And Usmanov was a lifelong Arsenal fan.
So it wasn't surprising he was prepared to spend big.
The real question was: how big?
Then there was City.
"If the Abu Dhabi Group takes over early, Eriksson likely won't be fired."
Yang Cheng knew Sven-Göran Eriksson was an unlucky man.
His managerial ability was never in doubt. His work at Lazio—especially in squad building—made him a perfect fit for City's situation.
But his stint with the England national team had destroyed his reputation.
Without that, his status would be far higher.
At one point, even Abramovich had desperately tried to bring him to Chelsea.
With the current market, the Abu Dhabi Group might not find a better option than Eriksson.
Mourinho?
The man had his sights firmly set on Barcelona. And given his Chelsea history, it was unlikely he'd coach City.
"This league's getting harder and harder to survive in."
Yang Cheng joked with a smile.
To Crozier and the others, it didn't sound like a complaint.
More like someone excited to meet worthy rivals.
It felt like a warrior thrilled before battle.
"Will this affect us much?" Crozier asked.
He had unwavering faith in Yang Cheng's judgment.
"If we're talking about performance on the pitch—we have nothing to fear," Yang Cheng said confidently.
"With our current squad, we'll be among the strongest in England and Europe for years."
His self-assurance surprised even Crozier and Omar Berrada.
But it was contagious.
At the end of the day, football is won on the pitch.
If Yang Cheng had this kind of belief, what was there to fear?
Was he bluffing?
Look at his record these past few years.
Even Fergie or Wenger might not have matched it.
And don't forget—Yang Cheng also nurtured an entire generation of young stars.
"In the coming years, we keep doing what we're doing: develop youth, invest in our academy… and sneak a few titles while we're at it."
Sneak a few titles?
Crozier and Berrada found that phrasing… oddly fresh.
But on second thought? It made perfect sense.
The new stadium project was getting bigger and more ambitious.
Everyone agreed: it had to be expanded. 65,000 seats were no longer enough.
Especially considering it might be impossible to expand in the future.
But if the stadium was going to be built bigger, Norman Foster made it clear: they'd have to dig down—add a subterranean tier of seating.
That meant a major expansion of the entire project's scale.
The entire architectural plan would need to be redone.
After all, carving out an underground tier affected everything—from structure to logistics.
Add in the four surrounding buildings and the series of cutting-edge systems Yang Cheng requested…
Even the most conservative estimates said £1 billion wouldn't be enough to cover it.
As for how far over it might go? No one would know until the final whistle on construction.
And then—Yang Cheng dropped a bomb:
Absolutely no following in Arsenal's footsteps.
What did he mean?
No fire-sale naming rights, no long-term sponsorships just to patch short-term holes.
"I'd rather sell everything I own than do that kind of thing!" Yang Cheng had declared, full of righteous fire.
Arsenal's deals with Emirates—both for shirt sponsorship and stadium naming rights—had famously been undervalued.
Bayswater Chinese's new stadium, located in the very heart of London, had advertising value far beyond that of the Emirates.
Yang Cheng wouldn't sell low. Period.
Adam Crozier and the others assumed Yang Cheng simply wanted to protect the club's commercial future—he'd rather weather tough years than shackle the club's growth. They were deeply moved.
What they didn't know was—Yang Cheng was gambling on something else entirely:
He was sure the Bank of England would soon slash interest rates.
In an era of ultra-low borrowing costs, why rush to sell assets when you could borrow smart?
Bank loans would taste sweeter than any naming rights deal.
...
April 8th, Champions League quarterfinals, second leg.
Bayswater Chinese traveled to the Camp Nou.
At the pre-match press conference, Yang Cheng told the media bluntly: despite the 4–0 first-leg advantage, they were still going to attack.
"For us, attacking is in our blood. It's in our DNA. We won't change easily."
In truth?
Yang Cheng wasn't lying—he wasn't going to park the bus.
That would've been foolish.
Instead, he stuck to his guns: play hard, but defend smarter.
He'd already rotated many key players in the weekend Premier League fixture—
Lass Diarra, Yaya Touré, Pepe, Maicon... all rested.
And there was another huge advantage:
Messi was still out.
The Argentine didn't even make the squad.
Rijkaard rolled out the same lineup as the first leg, with one change:
Thuram replaced Milito at center-back.
The French veteran, now 36, had lost his starting role, but after Milito was dismantled by Džeko, Rijkaard went with experience and strength.
The rest of the squad remained unchanged.
On Bayswater Chinese's side, Yang Cheng kept his winning XI from the first leg.
From the opening whistle, the Premier League side took control.
Just 2 minutes and 21 seconds in, Džeko received the ball, turned, and sent a through ball.
Arshavin ran in from deep, broke into the right side of the box, and shot—
Saved by Valdés.
Three minutes later, Modrić sent a through ball to Di María, who surged into the box from the left.
Rafa Márquez challenged him and Di María went down—but no penalty.
Then came wave after wave of pressure.
Džeko burst past Thuram and fired—Valdés saved again.
Then Modrić and Džeko combined for a slick one-two, only for Modrić to be tripped by Thuram.
The ref gave a free kick—outside the box.
Yang Cheng's men didn't back down. For twenty straight minutes, they pummeled Barcelona.
It was relentless.
Finally, in the 26th minute, Barça managed a counterattack.
Eto'o tore down the right, slipped past Baines, and squared the ball back.
Young Bojan arrived—shot!
Neuer caught it.
Barça's first shot of the match.
Soon, it turned into an end-to-end duel—
Just as Yang Cheng had planned.
When you're up 4–0 and you're away from home, the clean sheet is your greatest shield.
One away goal would completely kill the tie.
And in the 39th minute, Džeko drifted wide to collect the ball, then whipped in a cross.
Di María arrived late, blasted a low shot into the net—
Flag went up. Offside.
The entire Camp Nou jeered.
But that disallowed goal clearly rattled Barça.
They knew: concede once, and they'd need to score six.
So they dropped deeper, tightened up the back, and held out until halftime.
Yang Cheng, meanwhile, was sure—
Barça would throw everything forward in the second half.
And his response?
Strike first.
One more goal and the Catalans would be spiritually crushed.
Even if not, they were already nearly finished.
Second half began—and Bayswater Chinese surged again.
Barely two minutes in, they strung together a beautiful sequence down the left.
Di María sent a through ball.
Džeko pulled defenders wide.
Arshavin ran from deep, beat the offside trap, and charged into the box.
Valdés rushed out—
Arshavin calmly chipped it over him into the empty net.
1–0!
Yang Cheng immediately sent on the young guns—Gareth Bale and Walcott.
Time to bunker and counter.
And with two jet-heeled wingers up top, Barcelona's full-backs were terrified.
Even without instructions, Barça's players began to adjust—dropping deeper, playing it safer.
Why?
Because Gareth Bale and Walcott were playing at Camp Nou for the first time—and they were electric.
Every time they touched the ball, they ran full speed.
They didn't care about the score.
They just ran.
It drove the Barcelona defense mad.
You're up big—why are you still going all out?
Most symbolic moment?
69th minute.
Walcott tore down the right, flew past defenders, and whipped in a low ball.
Bale arrived at the back post.
If not for Puyol's desperate slide, Bale would've buried it.
Too fast. Too dangerous.
With those two flying up top, Barça didn't dare push forward again.
The match stayed locked.
Final score:
Bayswater Chinese 1–0 Barcelona.
Aggregate: 5–0.
Utter domination. Semifinal secured.
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