There's no denying that Manchester United is rightfully hailed as the most commercially savvy football club in the world.
This season's first Red vs. Blue clash at Old Trafford—United's home game against Chelsea—was preceded by a high-profile global media event orchestrated by the club.
Malcolm Glazer seemed determined to wipe out United's debt entirely this season. Not only did he drop not-so-subtle hints to all sponsored players, but he even pressured the likes of Cristiano Ronaldo and Wayne Rooney—the club's golden duo—to leverage their backers for additional financial support. That much was understandable, given their 2+1 contracts; if United performed well over the next two seasons, their sponsors would benefit too.
But even Park Ji-sung, who already came with his own sponsorship deals, wasn't spared from Glazer's maneuvering.
"Hey, Claire, did you know? I was just told I'm on the matchday squad. Make sure you pass to me a few times, alright?" Park muttered under his breath as he warmed up, shooting furtive glances around.
Claire rolled his eyes. "If Warner Music had coughed up a million pounds for naming rights at yesterday's press conference, maybe I'd be guaranteed a spot all season. How the hell did you luck out with Hyundai and Gillette? I still don't even have a boot deal!"
Despite recently landing a £4 million endorsement with Royal Bank of Scotland's wealth management division, Claire wasn't technically the bank's main ambassador—just the face of their investment products, which leaned more toward insurance. If this were Ronaldo or Rooney, the deal would've easily doubled.
After taxes and the club's cut, Claire's £4 million dwindled to £2.7 million—barely in his hands before his uncle snatched it up to fund renovations for his newly acquired club, Castle FC. The thought of the stadium repairs alone costing £1.4 million made Claire grit his teeth. Club-building was expensive.
But for the sake of securing a year's worth of United friendlies for Castle FC, he swallowed his frustration. One day, that bloodsucking Glazer will regret this.
Park, however, still looked like he had more to say, hesitating awkwardly. Claire sighed and stopped dribbling. "Alright, out with it. And no, I can't lend you money. If today wasn't my debut, I doubt I'd have even made it onto that press conference stage yesterday."
"Ah, haha, no, no…" Park scratched his head nervously. "It's just… my girlfriend, Song Yoon-ah—you know her, right? Her agency is S.M. Entertainment, and I heard…"
Claire's jaw nearly dropped. Song Yoon-ah? The rising star from Full House, the K-drama that took Southeast Asia by storm? Now that was jealousy-inducing. For a second, Claire wondered if Park was the real protagonist of this world.
Song Yoon-ah had not only debuted through Full House but, thanks to S.M.'s aggressive marketing, had quickly become a regional sensation.
Claire could already guess where this was going. "Let me guess… she wants a role in my music video?"
"Aish…" Park blurted in Korean before catching himself. "Actually, no. Her manager just wanted me to ask if you could squeeze in a couple of small roles for some of their other talents."
"Girls'—"
"Ever heard of Girls' Generation? Hah! That makes this easier. They're actually here today! Tiffany and Jessica grew up in the States, so the agency wants them to break into the Western market. This is just a trial run."
"Oh, come on, don't overthink it. They're all single, you know. Their company wouldn't even mind if you dated one of them—probably encourage it!"
Claire's brain short-circuited as Park's words spiraled into absurdity. The dormant "Bond" system in his mind suddenly flared to life, sending a shiver down his spine.
"You—just—go away! We'll talk about this nonsense after the match. Focus on not screwing up your starting spot first!"
As Park jogged off, he cast a lingering glance toward the stage—empty now, but Claire could already guess what was going through his mind.
Old Trafford buzzed with energy as Chelsea's team bus pulled into the visitors' dressing area. The number of reporters had swelled dramatically.
Claire didn't recognize most of them, but Ronaldo—ever the media-savvy one—leaned in with a whisper: "Tsk tsk, 140 media outlets today. Even The Guardian, BBC, and ABC sent reporters. You'd better bring your A-game. If we crush Chelsea today, this could be our coronation!"
Just then, the so-called "ABC reporter" called Claire's name from the sidelines. He flashed a polite smile and waved, prompting Ronaldo to throw an arm around his shoulder and strike a cheesy "V for victory" pose.
The atmosphere was electric—whistles, cheers, and playful banter between players and journalists filled the air.
But inside Chelsea's dressing room, the mood was anything but light.
From 1996 to 2004, the Premier League had been a two-horse race between Sir Alex Ferguson and Arsène Wenger—no other manager had lifted the trophy in that span. But after Russian oligarch Roman Abramovich bought Chelsea, and Arsenal's financial struggles forced them to sell key players while drowning in stadium debt, the league's power dynamic shifted into a battle between "The Boss" and "The Special One."
Since José Mourinho's arrival in England, Ferguson had been consistently outmaneuvered by the Portuguese tactician. Apart from one minor cup victory, the Scot had yet to best his younger rival.
At yesterday's press conference, The Echo—a Liverpool-friendly outlet—had quoted Mourinho verbatim: "If I've beaten him once, I'll do it again. And again. And again. This time will be no different."
If not for Glazer's intervention, Ferguson might've thrown the reporter out himself. But the damage was done—Mourinho's words dominated headlines overnight, overshadowing even Claire's debut announcement.