hollywood billionaire

Chapter 568 Why not own a club?

"brother!"

Turki al-Sheikh strode in, laughing infectiously.

Han Yi was genuinely stunned for a second when he saw the other person's attire clearly.

This time, Turki did not wear his signature Saudi Arabian traditional robe and red and white checkered turban, but instead wore a well-tailored indigo suit, revealing his fluffy black curly hair and flamboyant beard, with two buttons undone at the collar of his shirt.

This outfit made him look more like an energetic Mediterranean businessman than an advisor to a Middle Eastern royal family.

If it weren't for that overly Middle Eastern-accented voice, Han Yi would probably have hesitated for a few seconds before connecting the man in the suit and tie in front of him with the Saudi billionaire who had attracted the attention of the entire booth area in Las Vegas a few months ago.

Turki seemed very happy about the reunion. He walked briskly for a few steps, went straight to Han Yi, stretched out his arm, grasped Han Yi's hand tightly, and shook it vigorously.

"My friend! How have you been lately?"

While greeting him, Turki glanced at Barbara beside Han Yi.

“Very good. Europe has taken very good care of me on this trip.” Han Yi naturally withdrew his hand and casually put his arm around Barbara’s shoulder. “Let me introduce you. This is my girlfriend, Barbara Pavin.”

“We met in Las Vegas before.” Turki’s smile was still bright, but his movements became more restrained. He didn’t extend his hand, but simply smiled and nodded very politely as a greeting.

"I know," Han Yi said with a smile. "I just wanted to show off the fact that she's my girlfriend."

"Hahaha, that's certainly something to brag about." Turki leaned back and let out another series of hearty laughs. He pointed at Han Yi with his finger, as if he had guessed a riddle. "But actually, I already guessed it. Back in Las Vegas, I felt that the way you two stood together... was unusual! I thought to myself, you two are definitely a couple!"

Having spent years interacting with the Western world, Turki was adept at social situations. He was very friendly towards Barbara, and there was no discrimination or discomfort in his words or expressions. At the same time, however, he meticulously maintained a distance.

He did not shake hands with Barbara.

This is not impolite, but rather a unique form of respect that men in the Muslim world show to women who are not related to them.

More accurately, this is a sign of respect from men in the Muslim world to another man.

Since she's someone else's girlfriend, she's their property and should never be touched lightly.

Han Yi understood this, and Barbara, who was used to working on the international stage for many years, was clearly accustomed to it, feeling neither neglected nor offended. She returned the gesture with a polite smile and replied, "It is also a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Chairman."

“Please just call me Turki. Yi and I are friends who address each other by our first names.” Turki patted Han Yi on the shoulder, took a step to the right, revealing his companions behind him, “By the way, please allow me to introduce you both to Mr. Bruce Barker, the chairman of Chelsea Football Club. We were able to come here to watch the game today thanks to his kind invitation.”

At this moment, Han Yi realized that those following Turki al-Sheikh were not just his entourage—the group of bearded men mainly concentrated on the left side of the box were Turki's Saudi team. The group of attendants standing on the right side of the box were Chelsea staff.

The older white man they were surrounding was none other than Bruce Barker, Chelsea's club chairman since 2004.

His silver-gray hair was meticulously combed, and a pair of frameless glasses perched on his nose. Behind the lenses, his blue eyes shone with a shrewd and cautious light—the kind of gaze unique to seasoned elite lawyers or top bankers.

He wore a darker, more conservative navy blue suit, with his shirt and tie perfectly tied, the tie bearing Chelsea FC's iconic blue lion emblem.

His smile wasn't as outgoing and infectious as Turki's; instead, it was more reserved and professional, a standard social expression of an Ivy League elite.

That's right, not the G5 League, but the Ivy League. Because this Mr. Bruce Barker, born in New York City in 1946, is a true New England Yankee. He earned his bachelor's degree from Colgate University, pursued a Juris Doctor degree at Columbia University, and left his homeland for England in 1983, eventually settling down here. He was active in the City of London as a managing partner for the European region of the M&A firm Skadden, until he advised Siberian Oil Company, gaining Abramovich's trust, and ultimately becoming the frontman, managing Chelsea.

"Mr. Han, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Bruce Buck stepped forward, his face displaying just the right amount of enthusiasm, and extended his hand to Han Yi. "Welcome to Selhurst Park—or should I say, welcome to our away box."

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Buck.” Han Yi shook hands with him.

“Mr. Buck, did I tell you that Mr. Han is also from the United States?” At this point, Turki al-Sheikh added some qualifiers to the statement, “He is one of the hottest figures in Hollywood this year, and his business is currently mainly conducted in the United States. We are also working with him on some projects.”

“I can tell that Mr. Han’s accent is very pure, so he must have been in the United States for a long time,” Buck nodded in response.

"It's only been a few years." Han Yi simply changed the subject and began to introduce his female companion, "Mr. Buck, this is my girlfriend, Barbara Pavin."

"Ms. Pavin, it is a great honor to have you here."

Bruce Buck, without any hesitation, immediately turned to Barbara next to Han Yi and extended his hand in a similarly friendly manner.

"Thank you very much for your invitation, Mr. Buck."

Barbara gracefully extended her hand to shake hers.

“I’m so glad you accepted the invitation to watch our game,” Bruce Barker said humbly. “It’s a shame we don’t have any home games these days, otherwise I would be happy to show you around Stamford Bridge.”

"That's good enough. Thank you again."

"Thank you for your understanding and support... Ms. Pavin, Mr. Han, Mr. Al-Sheikh, please enjoy the game! If you need anything, please let our staff know, and we will be happy to assist you. I need to go to the locker room to say hello to the lads, but I'll be back with you soon, okay?"

"You're too kind, Mr. Buck. We'll take good care of ourselves."

Turki al-Sheikh kept his arm in mid-air until Bruce Barker and his lads left the box. The Saudi then patted Han Yi on the back and laughed, "I like that guy. He's polite like an Englishman, but warm like an American, don't you think?"

“Indeed, but when it comes to enthusiasm, he's nowhere near as good as you, my friend.” Han Yi took Turki's arm, stepped back half a step, and looked him up and down with an admiring gaze. “Why do you look so dashing today?”

“Oh, believe me, I don’t want to wear this. I’m much more comfortable in a robe.” Turki looked at Han Yi, then at Barbara, and explained to the two of them, “I’m wearing this because I don’t want the fans outside to look up and see a Saudi sitting in the president’s box. Otherwise, tomorrow’s front page headlines in Britain will be like this— ‘Crystal Palace Football Club to be Acquired by Middle Eastern Capital’.”

"Would that be a headline with real-world relevance?" Han Yi winked at him, lowering his voice, the hidden meaning in his words self-evident.

“Haha, my friend, you’re so perceptive!” He waved his hand with a laugh. “However, I can tell you very clearly that neither the Entertainment Bureau nor our Public Investment Fund has any plans to acquire a Premier League club.”

Do you mean 'not now,' or 'never again'?

“My official answer would be ‘not sure yet.’” Turki took a step closer and punched Han Yi in the chest. “But we’re friends, Yi, friends and business partners, so I won’t give you those official platitudes… If there are suitable acquisition targets, we’re naturally willing to invest. The Premier League is the best sporting product, and we only want to pick the best of the best.”

"Right now, there aren't any clubs listed for sale that are attractive enough to us."

"Oh?" Han Yi's interest was piqued. "What kind of club could possibly excite you?"

Upon hearing this question, Turki did not answer directly. His gaze passed over Han Yi's shoulder and landed on the bustling stadium outside the glass doors.

"The situation is complicated, my friend. It's true that international capital is pouring into the Premier League. Everyone wants a piece of this multi-billion pound broadcasting pie. But... the British, or rather the old money who have the reins in the FA and the government, prefer partners they're familiar with."

"You mean American capital?"

“Yes.” Turki said without hesitation, “Compared to us, they are naturally on the moral high ground when they invest in Europe. When Saudis or Qataris invest in football in Britain, it’s called ‘sports whitewashing,’ but when Americans invest, it’s ‘purely commercial motives.’”

"Yes, I know, in this respect, it's really not fair."

Although he gave this response, Han Yi had a completely different answer in his heart.

Whether you dislike American capital or not, you have to admit that Wall Street investors, especially in the sports industry, have never had a concept of national capital. The core driving force behind these private companies is maximizing investment returns. Their business logic is very clear—buy an asset, enhance its value through professional business operations, and ultimately reap substantial profits by selling it in the future, just as they have done for decades in the four major North American sports leagues.

For sovereign capital in countries like the UAE, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia, while financial returns are a consideration, their primary motivations often transcend commercial considerations and are strongly geopolitical. This is what Western media often refer to as "sports whitewashing"—using the immense appeal and positive image of sports to enhance national reputation and divert public attention from sensitive issues such as human rights. In this model, clubs are not merely sporting entities, but also tools of national soft power and diplomatic calling cards.

Even disregarding the supposed natural attraction between WASPs (West Asian Football Confederation, West Asian Football Confederation, and West Asian Football Confederation), the FA and the British government's desire for American capital investment is not without reason. While British football clubs possess global influence, their valuations are typically only four to six times their annual revenue, far lower than the ten-fold or higher valuations common in mainstream American sports leagues. Introducing American-style business operation models to further develop commercial revenue and increase the overall valuation of British football is the most convenient and easiest route for the Premier League, the FA, and the British government.

In short, the British view American capital as the most controllable business partner, with the highest public acceptance on a cultural level and the least backlash against its management model and operating philosophy. As long as it doesn't take over through leveraged buyouts like the Glazer family, saddles a healthy club with huge debts, but instead utilizes the "Moneyball" model they developed with the Boston Red Sox for data analysis, smart player recruitment, and infrastructure investment, like Fenway Sports Group, it can gain the understanding and support of fans.

They are crucial to the stable operation of the financial system of the various leagues in the UK.

"Manchester United, Arsenal, Liverpool—these big clubs already belong to the Americans. Chelsea—there's no sign of Abramovich selling it anytime soon. Manchester City—the Qataris' darling. Tottenham—also not for sale..." At this point, Turki Al-Sheikh raised his hand, halting his rambling list, "and other clubs, even if they're in the Premier League, are meaningless to us. We hope and need to acquire a club in one of the major cities in England, preferably London, but the chances are extremely limited."

"This club is in London," Han Yi glanced at his feet, "Crystal Palace."

“Oh no, if this can be called London, then… I don’t know how to put it, Reading is also part of London.” Turki waved his hand. “We’re not going to spend hundreds of millions of dollars investing in a place that’s a forty-minute drive from the city center, and the only fan base you can attract only generates five-figure revenue a year. That’s insane.” “So what are your plans?” After asking, Han Yi immediately stated his position, “If it’s permissible to ask, I mean no offense, I’m just curious.”

"Strategic partnership".

"Strategic partnership?"

“Yes, we’re looking for clubs that can supply the Middle East with sports and sports business talent, or those that can spread sports and sports business knowledge to the Middle East, and then signing comprehensive and in-depth cooperation agreements with them,” Turki explained further. “We are not Qatar, nor are we the UAE. Due to their limited land area, their football leagues will never be able to develop into a significant force. But Saudi Arabia is different, or rather, the prince has a different view of our country… We are not just buying overseas clubs; we also want to cultivate our own clubs, our own league, and our own football system on our own land.”

"A bold plan. Bold, but wise." Han Yi nodded slightly, lost in thought. He had naturally heard of the Saudi professional football league, which had risen to prominence in another timeline. Before his rebirth, Cristiano Ronaldo had already joined Al-Nassr, and many other talented players had also traveled to the Middle East during that transfer window.

It seems that the record-breaking investment of 9.07 million euros by Saudi clubs in the 2022/23 season was not a spur-of-the-moment decision by oil capital, but rather a carefully planned and steadily implemented strategy by the Saudi royal family since Prince Salman began to be involved in administrative affairs.

"That……"

Before Han Yi could continue the conversation, deafening cheers erupted once again at Selhurst Park.

The sound was so powerful that the glass door of the private room resonated slightly.

Han Yi, Turki, and even Barbara Pavin, who was standing to the side listening intently to their conversation, were all instantly drawn to the scene.

It turned out that a few minutes after the away team's roster was announced, the announcer switched to a completely different tone—a high-pitched voice full of pride, passion, and even a bit of inflammatory rhetoric.

"Now, let's welcome... your... Crystal Palace starting eleven!"

The announcer's voice echoed through the stadium's loudspeaker system, and this time, he was greeted by a deafening roar from more than 20,000 home fans at Selhurst Park.

"Goalkeeper... number 13... Wayne—" the announcer drawled.

"--Hennessy!!!" The entire stadium roared out their goalkeeper's surname in unison, giving it their all.

“Defender…number 2…Joel—”

"—Ward!!!"

"Number 6... Scott—"

"—Dan!!!"

"Number 27... Damien—"

"—Delaney!!!"

"Number 34... Martin—"

"—Kelly!!!"

Unlike the deafening boos that had engulfed the visiting team earlier, the atmosphere now was one of fervor and unity. Each time the announcer called out a name, the fans responded with a continuous roar of cheers.

This is not just a simple introduction, but a grand celebration, a resonance between the club and its fans.

This frenzied atmosphere built up in waves, with cheers rising higher and higher as the announcer read out the names of the midfielders and forwards.

"Midfield... Number 7... John—"

"—Kabaye!!!"

"Number 18... James—"

"—MacArthur!!!"

"Number 42... Jason—"

"—Pang Qiong!!!"

"Forward... Number 17... Christian—"

"—Benteke!!!"

"Number 10... Andros—"

"—Thompson!!!"

Finally, when the announcer took a deep breath and called out the last, and most crucial, name in his most passionate voice, the atmosphere in Selhurst Park was completely ignited, reaching its peak:

"And your... number 11!... Wilfrid—"

"—Zaha!!!!!"

The roar almost lifted the roof off the old stadium. This was their star player, the pride of their youth academy, a kid who came from the streets of South London. The cheers for him were not only recognition of the player, but also a tribute to this land.

“Pfffft, buddy…”

Turki shook his head in disbelief and let out a sigh.

“I’ve watched many Premier League matches. I’ve been to many cities and many clubs. Every stadium, every time, gives me a sense of awe that is hard to experience in other countries.”

"Really? Even the US doesn't have that?" Han Yi asked. "NBA? NFL?"

“That’s not quite the same,” Turki said, pursing his lips. “The feeling in America, or at least to me, is that sports are turned into a meticulously choreographed show. There’s no promotion or relegation, no transfer fees. You can be at the bottom of the standings this year, and next year you can be a championship favorite with a number one draft pick. What’s even more outrageous is that if the market performance of the team’s home city isn’t ideal, the owner can move the club to another city at any time. Like the Rams, St. Louis is bad? Just move to Los Angeles.”

"In this situation—again, this is just my opinion, and perhaps because I'm not American, I can't truly empathize—if you don't have real pressure and real fear, if you don't worry about whether the club you support will be relegated three times, file for bankruptcy protection, or simply disappear from the league system, then you won't be as truly invested in this game as they are."

Turki raised his arm and pointed to the fans' stands outside the glass doors.

"The NFL's Super Bowl, the NBA Finals... Sure, there's passion and cheering. But it's more like a party. There's the Jumbotron telling you when to cheer, there are cheerleaders, there's halftime shows, and there are endless commercials."

"I completely agree with you. That's actually why... I like basketball and football, but my favorite sport is still soccer." Han Yi agreed. "In the US, a team is a franchise that can continue indefinitely as long as the owner doesn't have a major scandal. But here..."

His gaze fell upon the red and blue ocean.

“This club belongs to this community. The fans we see here, their grandfathers watched the games here, their fathers watched the games here. They're not just consuming a game, they're defending their identity. You can't move Crystal Palace out of South London, it's South London, South London is it. This loyalty is ingrained, passed down from generation to generation.”

"The passion here is a belief rooted in the land and blood ties."

"And faith, my friend, is the most valuable commodity in the world."

"Well said!" Turki applauded Han Yi and laughed, "Now you should understand why Prince Salman doesn't just want to own one Premier League club, but wants to establish a Premier League in Saudi Arabia as well, right?"

"In such a rapidly changing era, a nation needs this kind of faith... not religious faith, but secular faith that can unite people from all walks of life."

“Of course I understand. Not only do I understand, but I also deeply admire Prince Salman’s vision.” In front of Turki al-Sheikh, Han Yi did not hold back his praise for the royal successor, after all, such words would benefit both of them. “Sports, music, and the culture that follows will reshape the destiny of a country in the coming decades.”

“Absolutely right.” Turki’s smile was no longer as warm, but it grew even more intense. “Yi, can I say that you are already reshaping the culture of a country… no, the entire world, through your own efforts?”

"I'm still far from it." Han Yi waved his hand, appearing very humble. "I'm just a student, trying to understand the problems left by the professor and trying to find new solutions."

“If that’s the case, then the person standing before me is indeed a diligent and intelligent outstanding student,” Turki drawled, “but no student would only choose one course, would they?”

"Besides music, aren't you also very interested in football?"

"Why don't you try to own a club? I know you have the ability."

(End of this chapter)