Chapter 5 – I'll Just Buy the Cheapest One!
Due to war and other complications, there were still no direct flights from London to Zagreb, the capital of Croatia.
Yang Cheng had no choice but to take a Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, Germany, then transfer to a connecting flight to Zagreb.
Zagreb's Pleso Airport, a dual military-civilian facility, had only a small terminal with rather basic facilities.
Even this spoke to the fact that Zagreb had yet to fully recover from the shadow of war.
After exchanging some Croatian kuna for daily expenses, Yang Cheng hailed a taxi to Ilica Street in downtown Zagreb.
This was said to be the busiest and most prosperous street in the city.
But it was still underwhelming.
This country, only a few years removed from war, clearly hadn't had time to properly develop its economy.
Luckily, Yang Cheng wasn't here for a vacation.
The day after arriving in Zagreb, Yang Cheng paid a visit to Dinamo Zagreb.
His host was the club's chairman, Zdravko Mamić.
At 44, Mamić was one of Croatia's top football agents and a well-known figure in European football.
He had been a member of Dinamo's board for some time and also operated a football school.
That school recruited the most talented youth players from all over Croatia, bringing them to Zagreb for training and development.
Once the players reached a certain level, the best among them would be selected to join Dinamo Zagreb.
Initially, Mamić had looked down on Yang Cheng, a young Chinese man, and had even planned to take him for a ride.
But Yang Cheng wasn't some easy mark.
In his past life, Yang Cheng had dealt with far bigger sharks than Mamić—people like Raiola and Mendes were regular counterparts in his coaching career.
After just a few verbal exchanges, Yang Cheng had Mamić re-evaluating him, no longer daring to be dismissive.
In fact, Mamić even began to warm up to him.
"My younger brother, Zoran Mamić, plays center-back for Greuther Fürth in the 2. Bundesliga. He told me there's a Chinese striker on the team who's very good," Mamić mentioned.
Yang Cheng nodded noncommittally.
He knew who that was.
Not long ago, Mamić had just taken over as chairman of Dinamo Zagreb.
His first move? Establishing a reserve team.
It was a project he clearly cared about deeply.
According to Ilija Lončarević, the head of youth development, the reserve team was composed of 16-to-18-year-olds—some of the most gifted players from Dinamo, the academy, and all of Croatia.
The head coach was Romeo Jozak, a relatively well-known figure in Croatian football.
Yang Cheng didn't know him personally, but the name rang a bell.
Romeo Jozak would later go on to manage the Kuwaiti national team.
Dinamo Zagreb's training grounds and facilities weren't flashy, but they were complete and professional.
That was likely a big part of why they were able to attract so many domestic talents.
Yang Cheng appeared to be casually observing, but in reality, he was paying very close attention.
As Lončarević had claimed, Dinamo's reserves were indeed packed with talent.
For example, a left-back named Glovaciki Kale—very strong physically.
Or Marko Šindrić, who played on the right wing. Blisteringly fast, very aggressive.
Then there was Vedran Ćorluka, who would later become familiar to Premier League fans for his time at Tottenham Hotspur. He could play center-back or midfield, was tall and strong, and had excellent footwork.
On the pitch, when matched up against his peers, Ćorluka was clearly dominant—a real standout.
"This kid's gonna be a star someday," Yang Cheng "couldn't help" but exclaim.
Mamić and Lončarević nodded in full agreement, clearly pleased.
Yang Cheng didn't find the player he was looking for on the training ground.
But he didn't ask.
In European football's transfer market, there's no set pricing system. A player's value often depends entirely on negotiation.
It was a complex game of chess.
Yang Cheng casually inquired about the prices for Ćorluka, Šindrić, Kale, and the like.
As he expected.
Facing a potential buyer from England, Mamić didn't hold back in the slightest.
He even quoted a sky-high price of 15 million kuna for Ćorluka—roughly €2 million.
Yang Cheng smiled bitterly inside, though he kept his expression composed.
It wasn't just the most obviously talented ones—players like Šarić, Gravina, Kaldum, Mikulić, even those with less visible potential, all had asking prices in the hundreds of thousands to nearly a million euros.
Yang Cheng made a show of frowning, saying he needed to discuss things with his people in London.
Mamić and the others, of course, didn't object.
…
At noon, Mamić treated Yang Cheng to lunch at a restaurant called Kolovom.
In the afternoon, they strolled around Zagreb, taking in the sights of Croatia's capital.
The next morning, Yang Cheng returned to the training ground.
Mamić didn't show up this time.
Clearly, he'd figured out that Yang Cheng wasn't the "fat sheep" buyer he'd been hoping for.
On the contrary, this English third-division club was clearly strapped for cash.
Instead, the person meeting Yang Cheng this time was the club's CEO, Damir Vrbanović.
He also held another flashy title—Executive Committee Member of UEFA.
Impressive-sounding, but not all that useful in practice.
He'd only been appointed in 2002, so his seniority was minimal.
Still, Yang Cheng played along, deliberately acknowledging and flattering his title, striking up conversations about European football that left Vrbanović wide-eyed with surprise.
For instance, when discussing UEFA Vice President and Spanish FA President Ángel María Villar, Yang Cheng casually mentioned Villar's home address in Madrid and even described the surrounding area.
All thanks to his knowledge from a past life.
When it came to UEFA's internal rumors, Yang Cheng rattled them off like nothing.
At one point, he warned Vrbanović about Michel Platini.
"As early as last March, he was already a FIFA Executive Committee member. Now he's also in UEFA via his role as Vice President of the French FA. Guess what..."
Yang Cheng left the sentence hanging mysteriously, and Vrbanović's eyes lit up.
He connected the dots, and from that moment on, his attitude toward Yang Cheng changed completely.
He was warmer. More enthusiastic.
That day's training session featured some new faces—obviously not the regular starters.
During the scrimmage, they all wore substitute bibs.
This time, Yang Cheng found the target of his trip:
Luka Modrić.
Still 17—he wouldn't turn 18 until September—Modrić was the shortest and skinniest player on the pitch.
Especially next to towering players like Ćorluka, he looked like a shrimp among sharks.
And it reflected in his status at the club.
"Luka's got great technique—you can see it in his touch and ball control," Vrbanović said, trying to offer something positive.
"But he's just too short, too skinny. His physicality is terrible."
"Take someone like Marko Šindrić—he's only about 1.80 meters tall, but his speed makes him stand out."
"Modrić, on the other hand, has no physical strength and no speed to compensate for it. We've tried him in several positions, but he just hasn't shown much."
Vrbanović went on to reveal that Modrić's salary and status—whether in Mamić's academy or Dinamo's reserves—were the worst in the team.
Yang Cheng wasn't surprised.
He'd heard all of this from Modrić himself in his past life.
Fans love reading footballer autobiographies.
What they don't realize is that most of those books are written after fame comes—designed for media and fans alike.
Polished, embellished, sometimes outright fictional.
Modrić had written that he was nurtured with care at Dinamo Zagreb, that Mamić saw his talent and invested in him.
But Yang Cheng had broken it all down—none of it held water.
In a past conversation, Modrić had told Yang Cheng that his early days at Dinamo had been terrible.
Lowest salary. Lowest status. Mamić didn't even think much of him.
Why?
Because everyone else was bigger and stronger.
So when Dinamo needed to send a few players on loan to the Bosnian Premier League club Zrinjski, they picked the one they valued the least—Modrić.
It was a rough time for Modrić and his family.
The Bosnian league was notorious for its physical play.
For a small, scrawny kid like Modrić, it was a nightmare.
But he toughed it out.
Then Dinamo loaned him again—this time to Inter Zaprešić, a Croatian club.
Of course, Modrić eventually broke through.
So his two loans were later spun in his autobiography as examples of "targeted development."
What else could they say?
But Yang Cheng knew the truth.
Right now, everyone at Dinamo viewed Modrić as an in-between case—obvious strengths and weaknesses, with an uncertain future.
…
With all that in mind, Yang Cheng didn't linger on Modrić. Instead, he shifted the conversation.
After a good chat with Vrbanović, he opened up about his situation.
A rich kid trying to prove himself to his family, on a tight budget, scouting talent in Croatia.
Yang Cheng first focused hard on Ćorluka, but the price never came down.
He moved on to other players, but still couldn't find common ground.
"No way, Yang," Vrbanović said. "Kale is one of our most talented youth players. He may be a defender, but there's no way we sell him for less than 5 million kuna."
That was about €600,000.
Yang Cheng kept up his troubled expression.
"That's still over my budget," he said with a sigh, looking forlorn.
"Damir, my friend... is there really no way we can make something work?"
Vrbanović had thoroughly enjoyed their conversation and learned quite a bit. He genuinely liked Yang Cheng.
There was a bit of that "why didn't we meet sooner?" sentiment between them.
So when he heard Yang Cheng speak like that, he really felt a bit regretful.
"How about I show you some other players?" Vrbanović suggested.
Yang Cheng shook his head. "I'm only interested in these few. We're not here to take just anyone."
"Then there's really nothing more I can do," Vrbanović said, somewhat helplessly.
He might be the CEO and a UEFA Executive Committee member, but Mamić held all the real power in the club.
And Mamić would never sell promising players cheap.
Those were his crown jewels.
Yang Cheng glanced at him, then thought for a moment and smacked his lips.
"Forget it... Since we're friends, I'll make a concession."
"How about this? The cheapest guy you have—isn't that Luka Modrić?"
"Yes, he's probably the least promising."
"Well, I came all this way—I can't leave empty-handed. Give me a friendly price. I'll take him off your hands—as a sign of our new friendship. How's that sound?"
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