Chapter 467: Zidane Seeks Financial Advice

Manchester City’s U-17 team impressed the following day, thrashing Middlesbrough’s U-18 side with a commanding 4–0 victory. Aaron Lennon bagged a brace, Owen Hargreaves added a header, and Michael Carrick sealed the win with a composed penalty—leaving Richard thoroughly satisfied with the result.

That weekend, Manchester City were set to travel to Monaco for the UEFA Super Cup. The competition had been revamped into a single-match showdown, scheduled right before the start of the new European season. The fixture served as both a continuation and a conclusion to the continental battles of the previous campaign.

To accommodate the Super Cup, City opted to play their third-round league fixture in midweek—unlike their opponents, Chelsea, who postponed theirs to December. After all, Chelsea faced Manchester United midweek before meeting City, a grueling schedule that could easily take its toll.

City, however, had no such luxury. The club still had to navigate the League Cup later in the winter and couldn’t afford to overload the early-season calendar with rearranged matches.

Before departing for Coventry for their upcoming away game, Richard received a call from his brother, who had decided to support his wife’s entry into politics.

Meanwhile, Cameron had been located and contacted—at just the right time. Having lost two consecutive elections in as many years, his political career wasn’t in freefall, but it had certainly plateaued. This presented the perfect opening for Sarah to build a connection.

In Germany, Merkel had also been approached. As a prominent female politician whose party had recently suffered an electoral setback, she represented another valuable potential ally for his sister in law growing network.

Across the Atlantic, Obama’s rise continued. Now serving as the governor of the United States, he was a figure Sarah’s American partners were keen to back financially. Still, questions lingered. While it was becoming increasingly common for women and minorities to rise in political circles, few believed that someone like Obama could ever reach the nation’s highest office.

Richard sighed in relief upon hearing this but decided not to meddle in political matters. He wanted to stay focused on football.

Back at the high-performance department, Richard joined the training session that day.

The players were in high spirits, and the atmosphere in training was vibrant. The post-match session centered on recovery—light drills designed to keep the mood relaxed yet focused, ensuring everyone stayed sharp without overexertion.

The players were in high spirits, the training lively and lighthearted. It was a recovery day—short passing drills, relaxed movements, laughter here and there. Yet from the sidelines, Richard noticed something off.

Zidane seemed... distracted. His usually flawless touch betrayed him a few times, and he lost possession more than once—unusual for someone of his composure.

PHWEEEE~

O’Neill’s whistle sliced through the air. The assistant coach gestured toward Zidane, speaking a few quiet words that couldn’t be heard from afar. Zidane gave a reluctant nod before jogging off the pitch. He sat down by the touchline, head bowed, lost in thought.

Richard watched for a moment, then approached.

"Zinedine, what’s bothering you?"

After more than four years of knowing him—and two years working together—Richard could read Zidane’s expressions like an open book.

Zidane hesitated, then nodded slightly. "Sort of."

"I can see it on your face," Richard continued. "Something’s weighing on you. If I can help, I will. But if I can’t, you still need to talk to someone. Keeping it all bottled up won’t do you any good—it’ll start to affect your game."

Zidane glanced back at his teammates, who were still laughing on the pitch, then leaned in. "Mister Richard... can we talk somewhere quieter?"

Richard raised an eyebrow in surprise. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to play the role of confidant; emotional conversations weren’t his strong suit. In his mind, problems were meant to be solved, not simply discussed. Still, there was something in Zidane’s tone—earnest, uncertain—that made him nod.

He led the midfielder to a quiet spot about thirty meters away from the rest of the squad. For a while, neither spoke. Zidane rubbed the back of his neck, searching for words.

"Just say it," Richard urged finally. "If there’s something I can do, I’ll do it. If not, best to get it off your chest."

Zidane took a deep breath, then said, "Boss... my savings have passed a million pounds now. But... I’m not sure what to do with all that money."

Richard blinked, then nearly laughed. "You don’t know what to do with money?"

Zidane scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "It’s not that. I just... don’t know what people

do

with it."

Richard’s amusement faded into understanding.

Of course, Zidane had grown up far from privilege—born to Algerian immigrants in Marseille. His father had worked nights as a warehouseman and security guard, his mother a homemaker. They had struggled, scraping by on modest wages.

Richard’s amusement faded into understanding.

Of course. Zidane had grown up far from privilege—born to Algerian immigrants in Marseille. His father had worked nights as a warehouseman and security guard, his mother a homemaker. They had struggled, scraping by on modest wages. Money wasn’t something the family ever had enough of to

plan

with—it was something to survive on. Now, with fame and fortune arriving faster than he’d ever imagined, Zidane found himself at a crossroads.

"What about Barry? Isn’t he supposed to help you with this kind of thing?"

Barry Silkman — Zidane’s current agent — was the one who originally offered him to Newcastle for £1.2 million in 1996. However, the club turned down the offer after watching him, claiming he wasn’t good enough for the English First Division. That same year, Zidane proved them wrong by winning the Ligue 1 Player of the Year award. The following year, Karren swooped in and secured Zidane’s move to Manchester City.

"I already invested part of my income with Barry. At first, things went well — he delivered high returns — but gradually, the profits started to shrink, and now I’m losing money. It’s all gone wrong... we’ve lost a lot, and honestly, I don’t know what to do. I’m starting to panic."

Richard then decided to lighten the mood with a joke. "That’s easy, then. Let’s just sign a new contract — we’ll raise your weekly wage from fifty-five thousand to ninety thousand. With bonuses and everything else, you could easily make over a hundred thousand. How’s that? Problem solved!"

"Mr. Richard, I’m not joking," Zidane said, his tone heavy. "I’m really stuck. I entrusted part of my income to an investment, only to lose it. After discussing it with Barry, he suggested putting another portion of my savings into his investment — but I refused, because it didn’t feel safe. In the end, my father told me to ask someone with experience to invest it in a real business."

And honestly, who’s more experienced in these things than Richard?

Seeing Zidane’s anxious expression, Richard gave a small cough and quickly dropped his joking tone. He folded his arms and listened carefully as Zidane began to explain his worries.

"Hmmm... real business," Richard thought to himself.

Zidane’s income mainly came from his football salary and bonuses, with a smaller portion from endorsements and commercial deals.

Originally, an agent’s role wasn’t just to negotiate contracts but also to advise and help manage a player’s finances. Fortunately, Zidane was cautious enough not to hand over full control of his savings or investments to anyone — not even his agent. No one could guarantee immunity from future financial crises.

Maddox Capital, the firm currently managing part of Richard’s investments, was performing very well. It wasn’t unusual to see financial experts on television praising its returns, which explained why Zidane had become more willing to seek Richard’s advice.

In other words, Zidane’s worry came not from ignorance, but from prudence — a clear awareness of how uncertain the future could be. Football careers are fleeting. Even if he played until the age of forty, that gave him barely fifteen years left at the top. What would happen after that?

People often say that having five or ten million is enough to last a lifetime — but life rarely works that way. When you’re living a five-million lifestyle, soon enough you’ll start reaching for ten, then fifteen. And when circumstances force you to scale down your standard of living, it can be a bitter pill to swallow.

That’s why investing wisely is essential — not to chase fortune, but to preserve it, to keep one’s wealth from quietly eroding over time.

Richard rubbed his forehead, realizing that Zidane’s concerns weren’t misplaced at all. In fact, they showed remarkable maturity.

At his age, with a family to care for and a future to secure, Zidane was thinking far beyond the next match or the next pay rise. Unlike so many players who lived for the moment — spending freely and hoping tomorrow would sort itself out — Zidane wanted his wealth to grow, not vanish.

Richard felt a quiet admiration. Zidane wasn’t just a great player; he was a man with foresight. He wanted to earn more, yes — but without demanding it from the club. That self-restraint alone set him apart from countless players chasing higher contracts.

Perhaps this was why, years later, after his retirement, Zidane never seemed anxious about his future — even when he stepped away from coaching after his spell at Real Madrid, despite receiving numerous offers after winning the Champions League three times in a row.

He had always been calm, deliberate, and grounded — the kind of man who never rushed into decisions. He waited for the right opportunity before committing to a new challenge. He wasn’t the type to chase any club just to stay in the spotlight; instead, he preferred to take his time, making sure the environment, the project, and the people were right.

With that thought, Richard looked at him before said, "Give me two minutes to think it over,"

Zidane nodded, waiting patiently, curiosity flickering in his eyes.