My father died suddenly, leaving me three things:
Half of a county stadium overgrown with weeds, a mountain of debt, and a bunch of footballers who hadn't received their subsidies in three years.
They're delivery drivers, elementary school teachers, air-conditioning repairmen, and village officials. At the funeral, they squat by the roadside smoking and ask me, “Are we entering the county league this year or not?”
I spent seven years in the provincial capital planning events. I've organized mall promotions, weddings, and auto shows, but I've never had anything to do with football.
I have no System and no reborn life. All I have is a well-thumbed copy of the competition rules, a hand-drawn plan for renovating the pitch, and a stubborn refusal to give up.
It starts with fixing the turf, finding sponsors, and holding amateur matches. Before long, everyone in the county is fighting to get in and watch...
I've taken over this lousy stadium.
