When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 102 "Absolute Superstar: Roy, the 'Shadowless'"

On October 21, 2003, when Monaco defeated Deportivo La Coruña away from home.

Monaco President Campora's private plane cut through the night sky over Manama, the capital of Bahrain.

As the cabin door opened, the accompanying advisor quickly stepped forward and whispered in his ear: "The Saudis have raised their offer again, now offering 4000 million euros for a 30% stake in us, with a league profit-sharing clause included."

Campora frowned after hearing this.

The money seemed tempting, but according to his intelligence sources, it wasn't coming from the Saudi government, but from several Saudi businessmen related to bin Laden. Upon hearing the name "bin Laden," Kambora broke out in a cold sweat. After all, Osama bin Laden, from this family, was the mastermind behind the 9/11 attacks three years prior and is currently wanted globally by the United States.

"This money is too hot to handle, don't touch it."

Campora waved her hand. "Tell them we'll find another buyer."

He thought to himself, if he accepted the money, the CIA would come knocking on his door tomorrow, and the club would definitely be expelled from FIFA.

Why did the Bin Laden family want to buy Monaco?
One method was money laundering. At the time, the United States was freezing the assets of the Bin Laden family worldwide, while football club transfer fees and sponsorship contracts were legitimate ways to transfer funds. For example, if you spent 1000 million to buy a player, but he was only worth 500 million, the remaining 500 million would be "laundered."

Secondly, it serves as political cover; owning a well-known European club can enhance their social image. After 9/11, this family was universally condemned and needed to operate a legitimate business as a cover.

Thirdly, there's the casino business. Monaco is famous for its casinos, and the Bin Laden family already has an underground casino network in Africa and the Middle East, which could be used to access high-end European gamblers.

Most importantly, it was a way to hedge assets. At the time, with the global pursuit of terrorist funds, converting cash into "physical assets" like club shares was safer, and it could also be quickly cashed out if necessary.

During this period, the family frantically attempted to acquire several European clubs through shell companies in Yemen, Sudan, and other countries, but were rejected by all of them.

As Campora stepped off the plane, she was greeted by a welcoming party meticulously prepared by the Bahrain royal family—a guard of honor dressed in traditional white robes stood on both sides of the red carpet, the aroma of Arabic coffee wafted from copper kettles, and even the carpet pattern was specially changed to Monaco's red and white color scheme.

He flew to Bahrain specifically to discuss the acquisition with the royal family because he saw two tangible benefits: First, the Bahrain royal family, unlike the Saudi royal family, has no messy entanglements and has a relatively clean background; second, they had just successfully applied for the F1 Grand Prix (Bahrain was first held in 2004) and tasted the sweetness of sports investment, and wanted to try their hand in the football field.

The royal butler bowed and presented a gold-trimmed letter of intent for cooperation. The terms stipulated a €4500 million investment for a 40% stake, retention of management control over Campora, and a commitment to use the Bahrain National Bank to help the club resolve its debts. These terms were far more reliable than those from Saudi Arabia; at least there was no worry about the club's assets being suddenly frozen by the US Treasury.

Monaco president Campora is currently in a state of extreme anxiety.

This is because the club's Russian "sponsor," Rybonovev, suddenly attempted to inject more capital and tighten his control over the team. This Russian tycoon was in such a hurry because he feared becoming Putin's next target and wanted to quickly transfer his assets abroad. Football clubs have become a "lifeboat" for these Russian oligarchs to escape danger.

A major upheaval has recently occurred in Russian political and business circles: oil tycoon Mikhail Khodorkovsky, Russia's richest man, was arrested by special forces on suspicion of evading £1 million in taxes, and his personal assets of up to £65 billion were subsequently frozen.

However, Chelsea Football Club owner Roman Abramovich, who has close business ties with Abramovich, remains unscathed. The recent actions of this billionaire, who also possesses assets of £61 billion, have attracted widespread attention.

According to sources, the underlying reason for Khodorkovsky's arrest lies in his political stance. This billionaire not only repeatedly criticized the government publicly, but also secretly funded opposition parties and even declared his intention to run in the 2008 presidential election, completely ignoring clear warnings from high-level officials regarding the separation of politics and business.

In contrast, Abramovich has demonstrated a completely different level of wisdom in dealing with the world. Over the past few months, he has sold off assets in Russia, raising £47 billion, including the sale of his £18 billion stake in Sibneft oil company to Khodorkovsky.

"Abramovich's purchase of Chelsea may be a form of self-protection."

His former advisor, Berezovsky (who now lives in London), commented as follows.

A veteran of the Russian oil industry analyzed to the Daily Mail: "Khodorkovsky made a big mistake; he underestimated the political realities of Russia. Abramovich, on the other hand, has always focused on the business world. His investment in Chukotka is seen as a charitable act, which has given him a buffer. Buying Chelsea is like buying a talisman; the status of being the owner of an English club provides protection."

It is noteworthy that, despite Abramovich's repeated expressions of fondness for life in London, he insisted that the asset restructuring was purely a business decision and had nothing to do with political pressure. This cautious stance contrasts sharply with Khodorkovsky's high-profile approach, reflecting the different choices Russian oligarchs make in handling their political and business relationships.

Campora took the gold-trimmed letter of intent, his finger pausing on the "player retention clause"—Bahrain Crown Prince Salman had circled Roy's name in red pen, with a handwritten note next to it: "This young man must stay; his goals have made my son fall in love with football."

The royal butler added at the opportune moment: "His Highness is willing to set up a special renewal fund for Roy, with a weekly salary of up to £8, three times the current amount (€4). But there's a condition."

He lowered his voice, "I must take Roy to Manama next January for the Crown Prince's son's birthday party. The little prince has even imitated the celebration gestures perfectly."

Campora's fingers trembled slightly, and the letter of intent suddenly became heavy.

The Bahraini royal family circled Roy's name in red, which was not only a blatant declaration of a new era's rules—football clubs no longer belong to the fans, or even the operators, but have become toys for oil tycoons.

Triple weekly pay? Birthday party?

He smiled bitterly to himself. At least Abramovich's ruble storm was disguised as a "love of football," but this document didn't even bother with the most basic pretense. The Crown Prince's handwritten annotations were like an unquestionable decree, reminding him of medieval European monarchs buying Italian painters—except now, the painters were players, and the canvas was the football field.

Campora suddenly realized that she was standing at a crossroads in history.

To the left is the shady business of Russian oligarchs using football to launder their assets; to the right is the game of flaunting wealth by Gulf royal families, who treat clubs as luxury items.

On the morning of October 24, 2003, Roy woke up in his seaside apartment in Monte Carlo.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows onto the Mediterranean-style floor tiles in the bedroom. He slowly washed up and tidied his slightly long black hair in front of the mirror.

Stepping onto the balcony, the morning sea breeze, carrying a slight salty scent, greeted me.

The Mediterranean Sea shimmered with dappled gold in the morning sun, and a few yachts in the distance appeared as motionless white silhouettes. Roy squinted, his hand resting on the wrought-iron railing—rough and cool to the touch, worn smooth by the sea breeze year-round.

At 9:30 a.m. sharp, he appeared at the suspended pool of the Monte Carlo Bay Hotel.

Personal trainer Mark was already waiting there, holding a training plan.

"Today we're mainly doing underwater resistance training," Mark said. "I pushed myself too hard during yesterday's race, so I need to relax my muscles."

Roy nodded, draped a towel over the lounge chair, and slowly slid into the pool.

After training ended at 10:30, Roy put on a loose white linen shirt and walked to Café de Paris.

On the way, we encountered several wealthy people who often strolled in this neighborhood, and we exchanged slight nods of greeting.

Several fans wearing Monaco jerseys recognized him and asked for autographs.

“Just one,” Roy said in English. “I need to get some breakfast.”

A blond, blue-eyed Scandinavian boy turned around eagerly and pointed to the back of his brand-new home jersey: "Please sign here! My father said this will be put in our private football museum in Oslo!"

Roy raised an eyebrow, then pulled out a marker and signed his name below the number.

Just then, a Russian accent suddenly chimed in: "Sign here!"

A young man with curly hair suddenly rolled up his sleeves, revealing his forearm, and exclaimed, "I'm going to get this tattooed as a permanent memento!"

Roy's pen paused for a second on the other person's skin before hastily drawing a simplified signature.

The last one was a South American girl.

She had a hot figure, and suddenly unbuttoned her coat, her curves so exaggerated they almost burst out of her fitted white shirt. The neckline was slightly open, revealing a patch of skin tanned to a honey color.

She lightly bit her sexy lips and pointed her finger at her left breast: "Can I just sign here?"

Her voice had a heavy South American accent, with a slight upward inflection at the end, as if carrying a certain provocation.

Roy's pen hovered in mid-air; he could feel his heart pounding beneath his shirt.

And, even more difficult to ignore, were those several burly South American men eyeing them menacingly not far away.

They crossed their arms, their eyes sharp, as if ready to pounce at any moment to see where the star player dared to put his hands.

She might be the daughter of some drug lord.

Finally, the marker fell gently, and Roy's signature was more restrained than usual, with the pen tip applying almost no extra force.

The burly men remained standing in place, their eyes now showing a hint of assessment.

It's as if they're weighing whether this star player is wise or just lucky.

The girl looked down at the name on her chest, the ink still wet, and a triumphant smile curled at the corner of her lips.
She gently traced the signature on her chest with her fingertips, her eyes fixed on Roy, her voice low and seductive:
"Will this signature fade? Perhaps you should check it yourself?"

Her fingers slid down the buttons of her shirt, fiddling with them almost imperceptibly, while she leaned slightly forward, revealing glimpses of what lay beneath the collar.

Roy's lips curled slightly, but his eyes remained calm. He deliberately glanced at his watch.
"I'm sorry, my schedule is already full today, including 'how to politely decline an invitation from a beautiful lady'."

She paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. Far from being annoyed, she whistled appreciatively.
"No wonder he's the most expensive young star in Europe; even his rejections are stylish."

Before leaving, she deliberately touched her red lips with her fingertip and blew a kiss:

"Then next time I'll go talk to your agent directly?"

Roy simply shrugged, offering no comment, and turned to walk towards the coffee shop.

The waiter, Jacques, greeted him as usual: "Black coffee and a croissant today?"

Roy smiled and said, "Let's try something different today, how about a glass of orange juice?"

He chose his usual spot by the window and took out his phone from his pocket.

He had three unread text messages from his agent, but he didn't want to deal with them for the time being.

The bay outside the window shimmered, and the yacht swayed gently with the waves.

Roy took a bite of his croissant, crumbs falling onto the pristine white tablecloth. He casually dusted them off, his gaze sweeping across the dining room: several wealthy men in linen casual wear raised their coffee cups in greeting, and a Swiss banker said in a calm tone, "Congratulations on the three-game winning streak. That curveball last night earned me an extra 50,000 euros."

Roy nodded and smiled, knowing that these people were more concerned with F1 qualifying than football.

On the edge of the line of sight, the young waiter holding the silver coffee pot trembled slightly, and the French lad helping in the kitchen stared intently at his back through the food delivery window—these were the real football fans.

Every morning, they cross the border to work from Menton and Nice on the early train. No matter how excited they are, they dare not put down their gleaming cutlery to ask him for an autograph.

Roy took a sip of orange juice, the sour taste making him squint.

This morning was no different from any other.

In the afternoon, Roy drove to the training base.

Several special visitors arrived at the Monaco training ground.

Konami's technical team stood at the entrance to the locker room, dragging two large suitcases covered with Japanese labels and the PlayStation logo.

"Royson, please take care of me!"

The Japanese engineer leading the team bowed ninety degrees and handed over his business card with both hands.

Roy took the copy of the contract from his assistant.

The terms are simple: Konami acquires the rights to use his face and movements in games in exchange for €20 per year plus a share of merchandise sales in Japan.

He noticed that the seventh point was marked in bold: "Signed players must cooperate in completing 3D sampling of the Hell's Gate and 'kaishaku' celebration actions."

The filming location was chosen to be a temporary underground parking lot at the Grimaldi Conference Center, a few hundred meters from Roy's house.

As the car turned the corner of Block B, he could see several Asian-looking people standing deep inside the garage, surrounded by metal boxes with the PlayStation logo.

A temporary green screen canopy was erected under the high ceiling of the garage, and several bright lights illuminated the originally dim parking spaces.

"We brought our latest portable capture equipment."

The engineer pointed to the "hair perm cover" and said, "All you need to do is make five expressions in front of the camera—normal, smiling, angry, gritting your teeth, and winking."

When asked to repeat his signature shot of "aiming at the far corner and hitting the near corner," he succeeded on his first try. The ball accurately struck the inside of the goalpost and bounced into the net, prompting a burst of exclamations of "Sukuni I!" from the Japanese team.

Roy's face will appear in Winning Eleven 7 World Edition and Pro Evolution Soccer 8.

As is customary, game companies can obtain player image rights simply by going through Monaco FC or Ligue 1.

But Roy's situation is special—he has full rights to his image, which means Konami must negotiate and sign a contract directly with him, rather than going through the club's usual channels.

The contract is worth 20 euros per year, and the price needs to be renegotiated every year.

What's even more noteworthy is that Roy refused to accept any competing restrictions (mainly EA's FIFA series).

In 2003, a crucial period in the battle between game companies and players over image rights, Roy's "kaishaku" celebration gesture held special cultural significance in Japan. This made him the first player to include "celebration copyright fees" in his game contract—more than a decade earlier than Cristiano Ronaldo later registered the "SIU" celebration gesture patent.

As for why Roy didn't register "Roy's" cool SIU celebration move, it's because "Siu" means "yes" in Spanish.

It is a natural product of Cristiano Ronaldo's interaction with fans during his time at Real Madrid (in a Spanish-speaking environment). When it lands, the entire stadium shouts "Siu" in unison, creating a wave of sound that completes the sense of ceremony.

Roy's fan base is predominantly French, and forcing people to chant "Siu" can easily lead to awkward silences, like in a library.

After all, the essence of celebration is a "persona enhancement tool." When Royro shouted "Siu" in Spanish to Monaco fans in 2003, the effect was roughly equivalent to playing "The Most Dazzling Ethnic Trend" at a symphony orchestra.

The problem isn't with the action itself, but with the mismatched target audience.

2003年10月26日法甲第十一轮，索肖0:0摩纳哥。

Monaco's winning streak came to an end at ten games, but they remain undefeated this season.

October 27, 2003, "World Football".

Program guests: Liu Jianhong, Zhang Lu, Li Chengpeng.

Liu Jianhong's opening remarks:
"Speaking of the most dazzling young star in European football this season, 19-year-old Roy is undoubtedly the top contender – the Ligue 1 top scorer, the core of Monaco's three-game winning streak in the Champions League group stage, and even more legendary is that he was a discarded player from Real Madrid's youth academy, yet now he makes Florentino Pérez regret his decision. Zhang, what do you think of this creator of the 'Monaco Miracle'?"

Zhang Lu's Technical Analysis:
"Hehe, this kid is interesting! Look at his technical characteristics: First, his off-the-ball movement is like a ghost, always finding that fraction of a second in the gaps in the defense; second, his shooting style is varied, he's proficient in chip shots, curveballs, and powerful volleys, he's practically a 'mini arsenal,' especially in the Confederations Cup match against Japan. Hehe, every time he plays, he's different! The most amazing thing is his composure beyond his years, when he's one-on-one with the goalkeeper... tsk tsk, so calm, what do you say about northerners? His eyes are like ice crystals."

Li Chengpeng's sharp commentary:
"If you ask me, Roy's most ruthless move wasn't rejecting Real Madrid and Manchester United in the summer transfer window, but rather his arrival, which revitalized Monaco, a team previously considered a relegation candidate in Ligue 1. Without major changes to the squad or coach, they became Ligue 1 champions and a Champions League dark horse! Just imagine, a 19-year-old of mixed Chinese and French descent, paired with veterans like Morientes and Giuly, single-handedly created a 'red and white storm.' His grandfather was a Chinese laborer in World War I, and now he's used football to achieve a cross-century comeback—even the writers and directors of 'Absolute Superstar' wouldn't dare write such a script!"

Liu Jianhong delivered a concluding speech that bridged the gap between the previous and subsequent phases:

"Indeed, from a Madrid reject to a key player for the French national team, from the cultural controversy surrounding the 'kaishaku' celebration at the Confederations Cup to being dubbed 'Bishamonten the God of War' by the Japanese media. Haha!!! Roy's story is far more impressive than his goals. Tonight's 'Absolute Superstar' will take us into the world of this 'Shadowless Swordsman'—"

As the most humanistic and insightful segment of "World Football," "Absolute Superstars" uses a cinematic narrative style to tell the story of the growth trajectory of legendary football stars around the world. Unlike ordinary highlight reels, it is more like a condensed football epic—from a greenhorn to a king of the pitch, from setbacks and lows to peak glory, every shot carries the director's ingenuity and emotion.

Here, viewers can not only relive the violent aesthetics of "God of War" Batistuta, the goal-scoring prowess of "Born Goal Maniac" Vieri, and the melancholic figure of "Football Lover" Baggio, but also feel the resonance between football and destiny through the life trajectories of these stars.

Whether they are young dreamers from South American slums or rising stars from European youth training camps, their stories transcend regions and eras, resonating deeply with fans.

As one of the most popular programs on "World Football", "Absolute Superstar" is broadcast irregularly, but it has always maintained a very high production standard.

Each episode of the documentary is like a love letter to football, allowing viewers to witness the birth and eternity of superstars amidst the interplay of light and shadow.

CCTV has been collecting material since Roy rose to fame.

Absolute Superstar: Roy the Frostless

Just as every star player featured in this column is given a subtitle, such as Batistuta's "God of War" and Baggio's "Lover of the Green Field".

Roy, on the other hand, was "Azure Frost Without a Shadow".

"Qing Shuang" is taken from Du Fu's poem, "Qing Shuang permeates the old maple forest, and the autumn river on the wild bank is cold and desolate."

His eyes were cold and ruthless, like frost, reflecting his absolute composure when facing the goalkeeper one-on-one.

It also alludes to the third line of the poem, "Yellow flowers fall like tears in a foreign land, a traveler's dream is always tied to his homeland."

"Shadowless" alludes to his ghostly off-the-ball movement and echoes the swiftness and sharpness of his technical movements, reminiscent of a swordsman.

This is a common approach used by the "World Football" program to poetically elevate the aesthetics of football:

The chemical reaction between Eastern martial arts and Western football.

The program deliberately avoided Westernized terms such as "assassin" and "god of war," instead using imagery from ancient Chinese poetry to show viewers how "cold weapon aesthetics" interprets modern football.

Opening scene: Fireworks rise from the Stade Louis II, red and white flags surge like waves, and the camera slowly zooms in on Roy's back—his jersey number is faintly visible in the smoke.

The text was written in a deep male voice, and the background music was "Dawn of Heroes" by Seiji Yokoyama.

Don't ask why it's a Japanese piece; just listen to it and you'll understand. It's used by CCTV for grand narratives.

The tragic grandeur of the Eastern shakuhachi and symphonic music perfectly echoes the martial arts spirit of "Qing Shuang Wu Ying".

A deep male voice slowly spoke:
"A hundred years ago, the trenches of France were filled with the bones of laborers from Shandong and Hebei; a hundred years later, their bloodline ignited the flames of war on the green field at the pinnacle of Europe. Behind the surname Luo is the shovel carried by his great-grandfather's hunched back, and the dandelion seeds that did not wither in the flames of war, which have now become sharp blades tearing through the defenses at his feet."

Scene transition: Black and white documentary clip (historical footage of Chinese laborers building trenches during World War I).

Replay of Roy's Champions League goal (a montage where the ball's trajectory overlaps with the swing of a shovel)

"In 1917, his ancestors dug trenches for survival in the mud of the Somme with their bare hands; in 2003, he carved the path of conquest on the turf of the Champions League with his own feet. Three wins in three games, each sprint was like a belated triumph—for those nameless people who will forever remain on foreign tombstones, for the words that were never spoken: 'I will bring you home.'"

Close-up shot: Roy looks up at the sky after scoring a goal in Ligue 1, raindrops tracing his sharp eyebrows.

"When the fireworks of Monaco illuminate the Mediterranean, who can see the moonlight of the Somme reflected in his eyes? This young man of mixed Chinese and French heritage writes the cruelest romance with football: his great-grandfather's shackles become his medals, and the silence of laborers transforms into the roar of goals. Three consecutive wins in the Champions League group stage? No, this is a revenge that transcends centuries—crushing all arrogance about bloodline and origin in the most elegant way."

"Every step he takes is a poem written for history."

Final scene:

The Riazor Stadium was buzzing with excitement under the cover of night. Roy forcefully broke through the encirclement of three Deportivo La Coruña defenders, tearing through their defense and unleashing a powerful shot from just outside the penalty arc. The ball flew like a cannonball into the top corner, sending the net trembling violently.

The camera focuses on the moment before his celebration.

He raised his right hand, slowly wiping the sweat from his forehead, his eyes fixed intently on the scoreboard.

As the screen darkens, powerful calligraphy-style subtitles emerge from the darkness.

"The sword has been tempered, the youth has matured."

(End of this chapter)